Everyone has their own version of car park hell. That one car park they, for some reason, go to regularly. The place where no one else seems to understand the rules of the car park. Where car park etiquette has ceased to exist. The kinds of carparks where you’re lucky to leave with a ding or two and your sanity mostly intact.
“I refuse to follow the arrows.”
We have all encountered this person. You are driving up the aisle in the car park when this knucklehead makes a hard right directly into your path and starts coming at you. Then they get all exasperated because you are there, right where you actually should be. They’ve slowed down to gesticulate wildly and furiously at you but there is literally an arrow pointing toward their car. Why? Because they’ve charged down the aisle against the advice of the ‘No Entry’ sign and in flagrant disregard of said arrows. You squeeze by each other, each baffled by the other’s annoyance. The person who can’t follow arrows is dangerous by virtue of their belief that the rules don’t apply to them.
“I’ll park where I want, because fuck you, that’s why!”
This person can probably follow the arrows. What they can’t figure out is the lines that mark the spots. There may be a row of marked spots, full of cars. The end of the row is clearly a thoroughfare to most people but not to this guy. This guy sees it as an opportunity. If the stream of traffic is trickling through the car park, there’s a good chance it’s because this dingbat has parked in a non-spot, meaning everyone has to slow down even further and squeeze past. This guy doesn’t give a fuck who he inconveniences, so long as he gets a spot not too far from the doors. He will take any opportunity to be a bit of a prick in a car park, including parking his car over two spaces or parking in spaces clearly marked as non-spaces. Because fuck you, that’s why.
“I will swipe your park.”
She’s cunning, this one. She will even become the non-arrow-follower temporarily, so she can swoop in and grab the spot you’ve been patiently waiting for. Your indicator flashing and position mean nothing to her. Nothing but a challenge. You may have done 46 laps waiting for a spot to come up but she has eyes like a hawk. An evil, park-stealing hawk that preys on unsuspecting car park users. She will zoom into your spot without so much as looking at you. If you try to point out what she did, you’ll get the “Fuck You!” you’d expect before she walks away.
“Return my trolley? What the fuck does that even mean?”
Just about every car park has trolley return bays dotted all through it. It takes 30 seconds to run it back to one of those. Tops. But some people don’t seem to know about this and instead, they dump their trolley, you know, wherever. In an empty parking space. In a thoroughfare. Pressed up against your actual parked car. Some go to the effort of yanking their trolley (those things are heavy) up into those little garden beds that surround some outdoor car park areas. That is a baffling waste of effort, in my opinion. Just park your damn trolley appropriately. Easier, simpler and doesn’t irritate or inconvenience anyone else. It’s not fucking brain surgery.
“I treat car parks like footpaths.”
This list would not be complete without mention of the people walking through to get back to their cars. Or who just decide to walk through car parks and treat them as if they are quiet, uninterrupted footpaths you can dawdle on while mentally off in your own little word. Take note, day dreamers and people who walk while staring at phones: car parks are bloody dangerous for people like you. I have reversed out of a car spot only to have someone wander out behind me from around a corner. I hit the breaks as soon as I saw them, heart pounding. They strolled on, oblivious and gazing at their mobile. Fucking hell, people! I don’t want to hit anyone with my car, ever! Help me out here and make that an easy goal to achieve, eh?