The Parking Spot Predicament

At 29, having lived long enough to feel like the world should occasionally bend to my will, I found myself in a situation that tested that belief. It all began in the most mundane of places: a crowded parking lot on a Saturday afternoon.

I had circled the lot for what felt like hours (probably closer to 10 minutes), searching for a spot. Just as I was about to give up hope, I spotted it—a perfect, prime parking space, right near the entrance. But, as luck would have it, another car was also eyeing that same spot from the opposite direction.

Now, any sensible person might have conceded, acknowledging the unspoken rules of parking lot etiquette. But at 29, I decided that this was my moment, a battle of wills that I simply couldn’t lose. After all, hadn’t I earned the right to that spot through sheer perseverance?

I edged my car forward, inch by inch, determined to claim the space. The other driver hesitated, and I took that as a sign of victory. With a smirk of satisfaction, I swung my car into the spot, ignoring the other driver’s look of disbelief. Victory was mine—at least, for the moment.

As I triumphantly walked toward the store, I felt a twinge of guilt. But it wasn’t enough to dull the sweet taste of victory… until I returned to my car.

In my haste to claim the spot, I hadn’t noticed that it was situated directly under a tree—a tree that happened to be home to a rather large and active group of birds. My once-pristine car was now a canvas of avian abstract art, covered in bird droppings from roof to bumper.

The consequence? A very awkward and messy car wash trip. The lesson learned? At 29, entitlement might win you a parking spot, but it could also leave you with a very dirty car. Next time, I’ll think twice before swooping in for the kill—unless, of course, there’s a bird-free option.