"Breathe," I said to myself. "Just breathe."
"Look at them," whispered Amy, my internal play-by-play announcer, her voice dripping with sardonic glee. "The wild parking warriors in their natural habitat."
"Look at them," whispered Amy, my internal play-by-play announcer, her voice dripping with sardonic glee. "The wild parking warriors in their natural habitat."
A massive grip truck swooped into a space I'd been eyeing as Wynd Horse (my trusty vehicle) cruised up the street.
"Vultures, I tell you. Production parking vultures," said Amy.
"That's the third space we've missed," she observed in a more reasonable tone. "Maybe we should park on Castle Street and walk."
"What?" I said, "Are you suggesting surrender? Not today, Amy." I could hear her giggling and realized she was playing both ends against the middle. Hedging her bets--hoping to get the best of me no matter what I did.
The area was a gladiatorial chess game of automotive positioning. Production assistants in headsets, crew members with coffee, actors in costume—all weaving through a labyrinth of vehicles. A location scout wearing a day-glow orange headset appeared to be practicing some form of parking meditation, waiting with impossible patience.
A minivan backed out near the catering trucks. Victory was within reach! But no—another vehicle, seemingly materializing from thin air, slid into the space with the precision of a stunt driver.
"Oh, come ON!" Amy screamed internally.
And then, something unexpected happened. The location scout in the headset was waving to me. She pointed to a space I hadn't seen, tucked behind a massive equipment trailer. A small gesture, a moment of unexpected kindness in the Wilmawood parking jungle.
I maneuvered Wynd Horse into the space. I was equally grateful for the help finding parking and embarrassed by my earlier parking lot aggression.
"See?" I could hear Ms. Wonder say as if she were in my head instead of being back home in Chatsford. "Persistence and patience are the keys," she seemed to say.
Princess Amy grumbled something about star parking and strategic positioning, which got way over my head. She began muttering something about an actor who refused to play his part--probably Shakespeare. She clearly wasn't speaking to me, so I ignored her. When she's in these moods, the best response is no response.
The parking area continued its manic dance as we navigated our way through the automotive maze. Trucks weaved in and out as drivers made their own rules; it was a mobile madhouse.
As I walked through the chaos of vehicles and film production assistants, it occurred to me that we're all just trying to find our own space in the parking lot of life. Keeping that in mind helps foster a little more patience and understanding, rather than forcing events to go our way.
The production buzzed with life. Cameras, lights, the hum of controlled creativity filled the air. And somewhere behind us, the parking lot warriors continued their gladiatorial quest for that most elusive of urban treasures—the perfect parking space.
Back at Chatsford Hall, near the end of the day, Wonder was packing her photography gear for an evening river tour. She boards the Henrietta from the River Walk downtown to capture abstract images of the ships in port.
"What's the parking situation like downtown?" she asked stuffing her tripod into a shoulder bag.
"I had no trouble parking on Orange Street," I said. "It's a little congested, but a little patience works wonders. She gave me a knowing look and a half smile. I think she got the hint. But she's a wonder worker; a little traffic won't get in her way.
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