Why is it so hard? I have spent years being able to practise the form of parking called abandonment. You stop whereever you want and turn off the engine. This technique was perfected in Namibia, where there are 1,000,000 people in the land mass of Europe.
Dar es Salaam was perfect nine years ago for this technique as well – hardly any cars, no car parks just wasteland to dump your car in.
Things change though, we now have tarmac car parks, all TOO small for the big fuck off 4 wheel drive cars we all have here. In THOSE days you did need those 4 wheelers. NOW the car parks are too small for them.
And too small for me.
For menopausal me, it has become a power struggle as I am always told off for parking incorrectly. Always by someone usually about 30 years my junior and who doesn't drive. Guards.
I feel sorry for these chaps, BUT I note that they don't tell men off, only me.
Others don't get told to park straight, only me.
Last week, was a bad week. I was that cartoon which has a nice smiley lady watering the garden, saying, gym, no alcohol, gardening and I still want to smack someone.
Plus – the guards stand right behind you to "help" you get out. I have spent nearly 30 years getting out of car parks all on my own. I swear someone will be injured if they do that again while chatting to their friends and not even looking for the other cars. Ahhh. My blood pressure is boiling as I write. I need xanax.
The other day, I got asked again to park straight in an empty car park. I got out and put up my hand and said no, no, no I am menopausal and I have been driving for 37 years, I will be 5 minutes so no.
He didn't know what I was saying as he speaks Maa. I wish I spoke Maa. I wonder what the word for menopausal is in Maa.
That reminds me, of a major meltdown in August. I was trying to park in my hub's car park. Yes, he has his own car park. No he doesn't. This car park is too small for all the cars. Anyway I was trying to fucking park my mahoosive old totota landcruiser in a space for a mini. There were about 4 guards supposedly helping me. Well they weren't. I was sweating and swearing. The air con was of course not working. I flipped, as you do, when you are peri-menopausal and you do that freaky, scary, losing it thing. I left the car blocking everything. I got out. I ignored them all. I went up to my hubs office. I got him out of a meeting. I sobbed and sniffled and asked him to park the car.
He did. What a hero. He didn't swear or sweat. He assessed the situation correctly, and didn't say anything to me, otherwise it might have been meltdown to the power of 10. Ever seen one? Scary fucking mary.
I think he tipped the guards after I had gone.