Parking on 13th Street

It must be pre-halloween hijynx, because I'm out on the roads making the rounds in the minivan frequently without encountering the dischord I ran into today.

I have to get all the little pale orange cupcakes to the nursery school by 2:15 for my daughter's birthday circle, as they call it, and because it's so hard to park near there, I leave extra early. When I get to 13th street, I see that its 1:39 and you can park after 2. I don't dare to park there yet, even though its clear the street sweeper's been by already. For one thing, a line of cars are double parked on the right so I know if I park it's a sure thing I'll wind up blocking some big truck. So I drive down to 5th and park at a meter, unsure of this choice. At this point, I'm kind of glad I'm alone, even if I could have used some help, because if another person were with me there would be the stress of trying to make the right choice and appear smart. But alone, I relax more, because I know it's just that kind of day.

Going around the block to get a spot on 5th, I have to travel up 12th street. Going left on 6th, I see an enormous white van managed to stop well into the intersection when the light turned red. As I turn left, I look at the driver. Big mistake. It makes him feel embarassed and then he starts backing up, not noticing that a woman pushing a stroller is crossing in the pedestrian walk behind him. He sees her and stops but she retreats in terror. I pull onto 6th but can't continue, because a woman collecting recyclable things won't move her armadda of shopping carts out of the street. She just won't do it. I have to wait for the Fedex truck to move before I can continue down the street. Then as I finally get free someone's so annoyed in her car, she has completely misunderstood what happened at the intersection and she's telling me "the light was green, what the hell."

I park on 14th at a meter and buy a few party favors at the discount store. I have a feeling I was there too long, and sure enough, when I get back to 13th street where I was hoping to park, it's 2:01 and every single space is taken. I wish I had been there to watch it happen. It's no big deal, just weird to see how the margin for error is so narrow sometimes. I find a meter spot on 12th street and lug several heavy bags to the nursery school, feeling sorry for myself, thinking about the woman with all her carts out in the middle of the street.

When I get into the school I wonder what kind of day they'd been having. The teacher who is fabulous has a bit more of an edge in her voice than I've ever heard before. The kids listen to a story, freeze dance, eat cupcakes, talk about Halloween. I happen to look at the clock, and notice it's showing the wrong time. It says 2:02 and 21 seconds. I find it an evocative coincidence because I happen to know exactly what I was feeling and thinking at the at moment: sorry for myself and stupid.

Later when I park yet again to get my son from his school, I return to the double parked car to see a Fedex truck and a line of cars stuck behind it. They're annoyed, no doubt. But it's very strange, because no one is honking.