Tuesday I had an early morning appointment in London. This entailed getting my ass out of bed at an uncomfortable time and getting myself to the train station at an even more uncomfortable time. This is where the problem was.

Where we lived before the most convenient station was about a ten minute drive from our house. There was generally always parking, even if sometimes it wasn't kosher parking, and the trains were the slow ones into London, generally taking around an hour to get in. Now that we've moved, that station is still the closest but we aren't far from two other ones with faster, direct trains into London. We take these stations for the most part now, but therein lies the problem-so do all of the other commuters. If you don't get to the stations by 8:30, you don't get a parking space, even if you offer to unzip the uptight suitboy and ask him for a full-on example of the best Maxim has to offer (which would be a punch in the nuts for taking the parking space. And Maxim is rubbish.)

So I got to the station at 7:00. I got a parking space, which I paid £4 for the honor of borrowing and I bought my ticket. Like a good girl, I followed procedure. I showed my ticket to the revenue inspector that had just witnessed me buying a ticket (actually, it wasn't really me. It was my evil twin whose soul purpose is to fuck with the staff at Southwest Trains. She's one spiteful bitch.)

I had my meeting in London, bought a sandwich, and made my way back home. I traveled on the train, flashed my ticket again to the train staff, and then at the station, I got off the train. I walked to my car.

And I saw a stupid fucker had thoughtfully parked illegally right behind me, blocking me in.

Oh I tried. I tried to maneuver the big people carrier we have in the teeny tiny space, but the two cars next to me were too close (and I met them that morning on the way in, nice polite men with practical cars, men I wouldn't punch in the nuts at all.) I was simply trapped by a piece of shit red car that had a pink foam steering wheel cover. Now, I have to be honest, I would've been happy to take the rear end of our piece of shit car to nudge that piece of shit car out of the way, but England has this lovely thing called CCTV, which basically means that there are more cameras here watching the population than any other country in the world. It's something like one camera for every six people, so there was a good chance one of the three CCTV cameras in the lot would catch me whacking the shit out of this red car.

I get a piece of paper and leave a note on the guy's car. I then march into the ticket office.

"Excuse me," I say nicely. And I really did say it nicely, none of my sarcastic estate agent stream of consciousness. "Someone has blocked my car in."

"Oh, God," moans the agent. "I'm so sorry, you're the fourth person today. We'll have one of our managers accompany you to see if we can help."

So a nice manager comes out with me, and he witnesses that, indeed, my car is well and truly blocked in. He tries to move the car for me, but there's no way-Superman alone could have moved that damn car. Another agent comes out.

"Looks like we'll have to bump the car," he says grimly.

"Bump the car?" I ask.

They grin at me. They turn to the red car and, grinning, they pick up the rear bumper. They start rocking the car and soon the thing is hopping like a kangaroo, hopping to the right.

"Wow!" I screech. They get into my car to try to move it, but they can't still, so they get out and bump the red car along again, until it's at a 45 degree angle from where it was parked. They manage to get my car out, the bumper of my car only nudging the other car a few times (there wasn't a scratch on either car).

"Oops!" I say hastily "I wouldn't have minded hitting their car, only there are so many cameras around!"

"Aye," one of the guys acknowledges with a grin. "But we're the ones who control it, so I imagine a few minutes are going to disappear from the tape."

In the end, my car is freed.

My note on the car was a polite one. Really. It was addressed: "Asshole". The inside read: "You are a fucking moron for parking so illegally. Next time I am going to hit your car repeatedly and I am going to LAUGH about it."

Angus took the train home with said Asshole, who apparently at first thought the note was funny but then, upon seeing his car parked at a 45 degree angle, flew in a huff into the ticket office. Hopefully he thought it was moved due to constant ramming.

All this, and you know what? After they moved the red car, I didn't feel in the least charitable, nor did I feel like sucking on a goddamn mint chew.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:09 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 916 words, total size 5 kb.

1 I *love* this story. Reminds me of the time one of my crew played "Bumper Penske©" (not under my endorsement, of course) to get our gear truck in loading position at a [then] local amusement park. I'm glad the staff was cooperative for you, and I admit to laughing heartily at Angus having ridden the train home with the owner of the same car the parking lot staff had so cooperatively moved for you. "Bumping" his vehicle - what a great term!

Posted by: Lisa at May 10, 2006 06:52 AM (ELUjU)

2 people like Asshole are the reason why i wish it was legal to ram other cars with my car... kinda like bumper cars. hooray for the awesome parking people that helped you get your car out

Posted by: geeky at May 10, 2006 12:06 PM (ziVl9)

3 Okay, I honestly think it was so cool that they did that to his car. It's ONLY what he deserved. I wouldn't have minded if it was a pretentious owner of a mercedes though...

Posted by: Jadewolff at May 10, 2006 01:07 PM (cH5GO)

4 Fantastic! I love it! Especially that Angus was on the train home with Asshole. We keep our old heap around for the soul purpose of fantasizing about who we would ram the shit out of with it. There are so many we don't know where we would begin. I am curious to know what the guys in the office had to say to Asshole. I would have loved to overhear that conversation.

Posted by: Teresa at May 10, 2006 03:38 PM (zqRtm)

5 Thats a fantastic story! Im surprised the attendants were so cooperative.

Posted by: Bevin at May 10, 2006 04:01 PM (xM8OR)

6 that is one bloody hysterical story. got to love the brits aye??

Posted by: stinkerbell at May 10, 2006 04:05 PM (QcMkT)

7 I now have a vision of you in my head ramming into that car screaming "TOWANDAAAAAAAAA!" ala Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes. That's making my morning.

Posted by: amy t. at May 10, 2006 04:17 PM (zPssd)

8 LOL Amy! "I'm older and I have more insurance!" Parking karma: you block someone in, you get your car bumped. Here, it would have been towed, and he would have had to pay $300 to get it back. He should consider his pathetic ass to be lucky.

Posted by: caltechgirl at May 10, 2006 05:10 PM (/vgMZ)

9 Hee hee hee. Love that story. I wouldn't care whose car it is. I've always thought that the penalty for someone parking their car and blocking you in should be complete and utter destruction of the offending vehicle. Oh yeah, and an "Asshole" note on top of the smoldering, twisted wreckage (something along the lines of "next time please leave a fucking can opener so I can get my car out"). Definitely at the top of my pet peeve list. Close second would be cars taking up two or more spots (particularly those that park diagonally across said spots).

Posted by: diamond dave at May 10, 2006 08:42 PM (AV77T)

10 Love the story! It reminds me of my experience at WalMart last week. I, too, was in one of those people carriers as they call them (my minivan o'love here) and I parked ever so nicely so that there was plenty of room on either side of me - one side a handicap spot and the other a regular spot (I admit that usually I park a little closer to the handicapped spot since they are so much wider and I was on the driver's side so if it was a van they could get out .. defending my assholeishness I know heh) So I did my shopping and came back out. Put Abby in her carseat and then went to get in my side .. only I couldn't. There was some jerkoff parked SO close to the van that I couldn't open the freakin' door! I could get the side door open ... and so I climbed in, found a piece of Emma's Disney's Princess paper and a crayon (yes, a crayon). I wrote the jerkoff a note that read: Dear ASSHOLE! You're lucky I didn't slam my door into your piece of shit SUV over and over again. Next time you won't be so lucky. I tucked it under the windshield wiper and noticed that the f'er was a WalMart employee. I grumbled and climbed back into the back of the minivan and when wiggled my way up to the driver's seat. I hate WalMart ...... I've been meaning to email you about a bunch of different stuff - and after this long-ass comment I suppose I should do it in an email instead of babbling like an idiot in here. Just need more time ...

Posted by: Michele at May 11, 2006 04:32 PM (5VGFA)

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