Memorable Moments in an Alien World

{July 21, 2012}   Rage of the Rich

A couple weeks ago I decided to stop at Chipotle to grab something to eat. Usually I frequent the one in Santa Monica, but today I decided to try the one in Beverly Hills, as its proximity is much closer to my apartment.

Driving down North Beverly Drive at 1:15p was a traffic nightmare. After looping a few blocks for about 20 minutes, I almost gave up and went home, but my love of Chipotle caused me to keep driving – and I’m glad I did, for I found a free parking garage right in the center of Beverly Hills (who’d have thought?!). I pulled in and quickly realized that this was a smallest parking garage that I had ever entered. I drove in and the lot curved around in a backward C-shape and…that was it. It was full to the max (no surprise, there were only about 20 spots!). That being the case, I turned around and began to slowly make my way around the curve.

As I did, I saw an impeccably dressed woman walking towards a car that cost more than a Harvard degree. Thrilled to finally be catching a break in this foolish pretense of a parking garage, I called out my window to her in exuberance, “Thank you!” True to her Beverly Hills cultivation, she ignored me completely, raising her nose up conspicuously high in the air, her perfect heels clicking away as she stepped to her millionaire-obile.

Whatever. I was getting a spot!

As I waited for her to get into her car – whose street value could feed half the hungry in LA – I found myself in a predicament. A big, shiny black SUV pulled in and stopped a few lengths back, seemingly waiting for the same spot as I.

I’m generally pretty good with etiquette. However, I was a bit lost here. What am I supposed to do, shout out the window, “I was here first!” or “Dibs!”? Clearly that was not appropriate. So I sat and waited, with every passing moment more appalled that this black SUV woman was not observing proper parking garage etiquette. Then it happened. The SUV driver finally met my eyes and with an unexpected intensity of wrath, looked at me with livid eyes, clearly mouthing the words, “I’m taking this spot!” while gesticulating forward.

I confess, at this point I erred. This was all so ridiculous that I found myself thinking, “What could I do in this moment to make this woman MORE unreasonably angry?” So I laughed. I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. If her life was so pressing that she had to have that spot, have at it. But the humour of this preposterous situation was certainly not lost on me. I smiled at shook my head. Eh, well.

Are you gifted in math? I never really have been. I can do it, but it just doesn’t come to me with the fluidity and ease with which English does. However, this one time, math smiled upon me favorably and I saw geometry in action. As the car we were both waiting for backed out, she turned the wheels to the left, completely obstructing my livid rival from getting to the spot and making a clear passage for me to swing in. For once math worked FOR me. Lovely! The spot belonged to no one, so I pulled in without hesitation.

I will say this: I have never pulled in so fast, nor exited my car or the lot with such speed and efficacy before. I’ll confess it now with chagrin: Beverly Hills Bitches scare the hell out of me!

And that is my fairly unremarkable story. What’s been you’re experience with wealthy drivers?

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