Backroads Miz Manners Soothes a Savage

Dear Backroads Miz Manners,


This afternoon I was enraged to find cars parked at the end of a row of parking slots, completely blocking the exit route. At the other end of the lot, the main entrance, cars were also creating new spaces at the end of the row. What is with these people? Do they think nobody notices that they are not within the lines? There is even a city police station in this plaza, right by the entrance. What can I do to stop this illegal practice?


Signed,
Hopping Mad in Suburbia

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Dear Hoppy,

Are you sure this parking style is illegal in your burb? Would a police officer knowingly allow scofflaws to scoff at his laws? Would a cat let a mouse run across his paws? Would a sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigot let Doralee Rhodes change him from a rooster to a hen with one shot? But enough questions from me.

What can you do? Well, Hopping Mad, you can slam on your brakes, jump out of your car, and start hopping and pointing at the offenders. Perhaps you could scream, until spittle sprang from the corners of your mouth, that parking in a non-parking space is just not fair! When you tire of hopping, you can stamp your dainty foot. But while this may be an intense aerobic workout, it is unlikely to garner the favorable results you so desire. Namely, strapping the driver to a Hannibal Lecter dolly, complete with straitjacket and hockey face mask, and wheeling her to the local maximum security prison three miles down the road, where, upon admittance, you will throw away the key.

Let's try to get inside the demented mind of a row-extender. She is special. No need to drive around seeking another space when plenty of room abounds right there at the end of the row. There's no No Parking sign. No handicapped logo. Nothing to give an inkling that her car might be towed for violating a parking rule. She would be daft, really, to let such an empty area go to waste. And if somebody should challenger her on her automobile placement, she can simply explain that she thought it was a space, because those parking lines are kind of faded.

Yes, dear Hoppy, the world is full of clingers. They will stick to the ends of parking rows like fuzzballs stick to a cheap sweater. Like the wrong toilet paper sticks to a cartoon commercial baby bear's butt. Like white cat hairs on black dress slacks. Like popped Bazooka bubbles in a young girl's bangs. Like fresh asphalt on a white car's rocker panels. And you cannot do anything about them.

Save your rage for something you can change, dear. Like tailgaters. I hear that brake-checking is surprisingly effective.

Signed,
Backroads Miz Manners