Randy D Gibson

With school beginning and the fact we are coming into the last official weekend of the summer, combined with the upcoming Cherokee National Holiday it is good to note the yearly reminder to drive courteously, safely, and cautiously. This is particularly true when it comes to parking lots.

When I was 15 years old and preparing for my driver’s test, my dad gave me some valuable advice.  “Go spend the middle part of the first Saturday of the month driving in the Wal-Mart parking lot.  If you make it out without an accident, you’re prepared to drive in downtown Dallas.” That was good advice.

Have you ever noticed parking lots are kind of like attending a ballet.  People are jumping and running around haphazardly intermixed with lines of cars that look like slithering copperheads on the riverbank. These places turn the sweetest individuals into snarling monsters. It’s no wonder, because people seem to lose all sense of rationality upon entering these asphalt abattoirs.

Recently I parked perfectly in a space at the Muskogee fruit market and came out thinking I was not there as long as I had anticipated.  I looked in disbelief as a large diesel pickup truck had parked so close to my driver’s side door even Olive Oyl from the old Popeye cartoons could not have gotten in. I could do nothing but patiently wait until a lady probably 5’3” came out and slung her bag of cucumbers into the back seat in a way that resembled what I imaged David from the Old Testament looked like swinging his rock at Goliath. Then, she had to get her stepladder out of the backseat and put at the driver’s door of this monster truck in order to climb in before pulling the ladder up on a piece of rope to again throw it into the back seat for the next stop.  I could not figure out why she doesn’t just drive a Prius.

Then, there are those who will pass by 20 empty spaces and hold up an entire line of waiting cars just to get into the front row space that someone is approaching.  These people will sit idling for several minutes waiting for that space like a lioness stalking an unsuspecting zebra.  It seems as though it would be much easier to simply park in one of those spaces 30 feet away instead of tying up all those who are waiting. You can practically hear their inner monologue: “I’m not giving up now. That spot is my destiny.” I question if the five seconds it would have taken to walk those extra steps would really be that exhausting.

Finally, there is the other parking lot protagonist: the person who backs into their space. These drivers make a performance rivaling a Cirque du Soleil show. With a long theatrical pause, they stop, straighten their wheels, and with the grace of a snail on a leisurely Sunday stroll, begin their slow, multi-point reverse. I recently watched a huge truck try to back into a spot at a laundromat, only to give up and move a few spaces down to try again, finally getting somewhat into place.  I seriously believe the guy could have pulled in, parked, picked up his pressed shirts, came out, texted his wife, and grabbed lunch at the place across the street in the amount of time he spent trying to get his oversized vehicle into place. It’s always amazing to me how there is no sense of acknowledgment of holding others captive with no escape.

So, as you deal with the extra traffic around town this weekend and pull into a parking lot purgatory, take a deep breath. Maybe it will prepare you for a trip to Dallas.

Randy D. Gibson is CEO of RDG Communications, LLC.