Friday, February 7, 2014

Ah, My old nemesis the BMW. We meet again. But this time the advantage is mine.

For a few weeks now I've been locked in a bitter and viscous struggle for the very heart and soul of all that is good and right in the world against the forces of darkness.

There's a grey BMW that's been taking my parking spot.

I should give some back story here.  For the last 7 (ish) years I've been parking in the exact same spot in the parking ramp beneath work.  This particular parking ramp is more prone than most to having random concrete pillars distributed in ways that defy logic or reason, and one of the results of this random pillar-ing is the absolute perfect parking spot. 

The spot in question is on P2, some 5 level down, which means it's warmish in the winter and coolish in the summer.  It's directly across an aisle from the elevator bay.  And by a miraculous quirk of the architecture, it's just one curve away from an exit despite being 5 levels down when you enter.  No, I don't know how that works either, but I'm afraid that it's like Wile-E-Coyote physics, and if I look into it too deeply the effect will cease to work and so I'm just not thinking about it.

How can such a spot be regularly left open? I hear you wondering.  It's because of the concrete pillars.  Two of them, one on either side of the spot, giving one around three inches of clearance on either side of the vehicle as you pull in.  It is a parking spot for the bold.  A spot that truly declares to all who pass, 'Sack up, Mary, or move on to park elsewhere.'

And so for years that spot has been waiting for me every day, an old and reliable friend to start off the morning.

Which left me somewhat frustrated a few weeks back when that bastard grey BMW discovered my little slice of heaven and started taking it before I got there.  Worst part - Grey BMW apparently doesn't share the same relaxed attitude toward 'start time; that I enjoy, which means that for a solid two weeks I was getting beaten out.  Every.  Single. Day.

Which left me with no option but to start getting to work on time.  Believe me, I wasn't any happier about it than you are.

Even then I've been averaging about a 50% win rate in the great parking spot battle.  But then... Yesterday happened.  And I learned the secret.

I was listening to Greg Laswell's Three Flights from Alto Nido CD as I pulled into the parking ramp (an excellent album and well worth checking out, btw)  As I approached P2 I felt the familiar anxiety begin.  Would my spot be there?  Would the BMW have beaten me again?  What would be my fate?

At this moment, Track 6 - My Sweet Dream started playing.  A lovely little tune, only just over a minute long.

<If I could write out my own dream>

Turning around the last curve onto P2.  Can't quite see to the elevator area..

<For the next time that I sleep>

Dammit.  SUV in the way... can't quite see the spot..

<You'd be the first one that I see>

Is it.. . could it...?
<And I the last one that you keep>

Can't quite see... is that a bumper, or...

<The dream would go on and on, While we sway> is!

<Against all things thrown our way>

It's empty!

<And the morning would be so cruel, When it came>

                                                                                                                                  My Beautiful spot!  

<With sunshine and warmth to blame>

pulling between concrete pillars, tears of joy streaming down my face
<For announcing the end of my sweet dream>

                                                  I've put the car in park, but the song isn't done yet, so I can't turn it off

<For announcing the end of my sweet dream>

I'll never take you for granted again.

Apparently the spot just needed a musical number to show that I still cared.  Which means I now have to plan a heartrending music cue to time out with my arrival on P2 every morning, but that's a small price to pay.

This morning I went with Jill Sobule's 'Mexican Wrestler', fyi. 

All is right in the world.

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