March 2, 2004

sweet while it lasted…

I walked out of my photo class this morning and prepared to drive to the parking structure for the first time this semester. After over a year of walking about a third of a mile to campus, I received the parking ticket that finally broke my resolve and decided it was time to just pay the $75 for a parking pass. As I followed about eight others into the structure, I took a gamble and turned the opposite direction of everyone else to check out the 20 or so parking spots on the very bottom level.

The gamble paid off.

An unguarded parking spot lay open in front of me as if it had been waiting for me since I last had a parking permit in December 2002, always believing that one day, I would return. And so I pulled into the spot, opened my door, tilted back in my chair and just took a second to appreciate the excellence of my location. After my parking spot had been fully acknowledged to the extent which it deserved, I reached for my gym clothes so I could head over to my weight training class and found? air. My gym bag wasn?t there. I checked the whole car, the passenger side floorboard, behind both seats, but I simply forgot the damn bag at home, on my bedroom floor, three to four inches in front of my computer, and 11 miles from where it needed to be.

With a sigh I realized that I could make it home and back in time, so I got down on my hands and knees, kissed that sweet asphalt goodbye, and drove out of a spot whose equal I will probably never know. I made it home and back in record time, and found a spot that my Honda civic was barely able to squeeze into on the second floor of the complex, far, far away from the stairs. Still, I had 15 minutes left to get changed and get to class, so I began walking. As I was passing the weight room door I noticed a yellow piece of paper hung up that read the following:

Briggs, 12:45-2:05pm,

So here I am, back at school with my gym clothes and nothing to do for the next five hours.

No Comments

  1. Brian

    I enjoy your prose.

    Did you get the e-mail I sent you yesterday. Just confirm so I know if the address I have for you is working.

    Please don’t kiss the ground over a parking space. It is insulting to freed hostages and others who have good reasons to get dirt germs on their lips.

    I shall read on


    Comment by Wagnanomos — March 2, 2004 @ 2:53 pm

  2. Brian

    Please don’t kiss the ground over a space in the parking structure. It is insulting to those who french kiss the motor oil-stained street when they find a parking spot on Pearl St. on their way to Ashland Ave.


    Comment by ug — March 2, 2004 @ 6:03 pm

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