An Open Letter to the Jackass That Took Two Parking Spaces
Dear I Can’t Get a Scratch on My Car,
Beltway Plaza Mall, the 1980s, Greenbelt, Maryland. You probably don’t even remember me. But ah, I remember you…
It’s a blockbuster movie being launched on the weekend. The mall parking lot is literally full. Literally, I know. I showed up early and did laps around the entire complex like I was warming up for NASCAR.
There are no spaces.
Well, there was one. The one that half of your car was in. How big of a dick do you have to be to pull some crap like that on a normal day? But on a Saturday with the release of (enter Big Name Debut here)?
Did I mention I had my stepdaughter with me? Yeah. The youngest one. The one who was dying to see this movie.
I finally got a spot too near Bob’s Big Boy at the front of the mall. I hope whoever would have had that spot didn’t mind missing out on eating at the buffet since I missed a parking spot closer to the theater.
See the ripple effect of your selfishness here, mister?
And yeah, you are a “mister.” No self-respecting female would ever own anything that was such a hideous shade of yellow. And that sports car? Ugh. It screamed of desperation. You were way overcompensating. For what I don’t…
