I went to the gym last night. Good for me. Second time this week.
On my way back to my car after a mediocre work out, I notice upon approach of Lola that she was blocked in. Now...I wish I could draw you a diagram of the situation, but I'll do my best to be descriptive. On the side lot of my gym, there is a really ghetto auxillary parking lot. When the gym is busy during the week, cars tend to go into this overflow section because it's closer to the entrance than parking at the back of the lot. And plus, the back of the larger lot is next to this adandoned lot which is kind of sketchy when it gets dark.
ANYWAY, in this particular overflow area, there aren't marked parking spots, so you just kind of pull in behind another car and then everyone else follows in a row. It usually works out just fine. Well, last night FOUR different idiots decided to make a THIRD row which, as you may have guessed, blocks those people in the middle in. One of those blocked cars was my Lola.
It didn't take long for the mess to get straightened out. I think the funniest part of the evening was the reaction of one of my fellow blocked in gym mates. At first glance, he seemed like a sensible guy, but with each second that went by (in a total of ten minutes), he got more and more agitated by the situation, and at an accelerated rate. Sure, it was annoying. But what can you do? Just deal with it and wait...why get all upset? He kept repeating "I have to BE somewhere!" and passing back and forth and checking his phone. I was like "Dude, where do you have to be in your swim trunks, flip flops and muscle shirt?" Hrmm. He didn't so much like that question.
So when we were leaving, I asked him if needed help backing out, because he was in the middle of the pack and the manuevering may have been a bit tight. You know...me being a nice person. It happens from time to time. But he already didn't like me, and he huffed and puffed and said: "What would I need YOUR help for?"