Parking Lots, Lost Cars, and You

We all need certain people in our lives, right? Good friends, people we can be ourselves with, people we can have deep conversations with — people like that there.

I need an additional person: someone who will wander aimlessly in a parking lot with me looking for a lost car and not wig out. Fortunately, I have Daughter.

It is a sad fact that losing a car in a parking lot is not difficult for me. Typically my mind is on far more important matters than something as trivial as where I parked my car. Such as something I heard on the radio two weeks ago, an idea I have for an award winning play, or the classmate of mine from the sixth grade who had the most unusual body odor and seriously, what would cause a person to smell like the elephant pen at the zoo?

Geez, he was weird. What are the chances he had a pet elephant?

Where was I? Oh, yeah, the lost car. So anyway, done with our shopping, Daughter and I walk out from the shopping centerdesert ridge — I better give you a picture because this is not an ordinary shopping mall. This is Desert Ridge Marketplace in Phoenix, which has a big, sprawling, open plan. Shops and restaurants are everywhere and the parking lot was designed by an insane person. (I think this has been proven. I’m sure it has.)

We stare out over the sea of vehicles, I turn to her and ask, “Do you remember where we parked?” She turns to me, smiles, and says, “No idea. You?”

Yeah, she smiled. Because that’s Daughter for you. She knows me and has accepted me. Fortunately, I know her too. Because after we wandered for ages — ages, people! — she says, “You know, I remember seeing the WP_20151204_20_11_54_Pro[1]restaurant with the logo that looks like Jimmy Johns and it always fools me. I remember thinking, ‘Oh, there’s Jimmy Johns,’ but it wasn’t. If we look for that restaurant, then maybe we can find the row where we parked.”

“Good idea,” I tell her. “What’s the name of the restaurant?”

“No idea,” she said.

We are quite a pair, she and I. After wandering another eon, we found the restaurant (The Yardhouse — I didn’t see the resemblance to Jimmy Johns, but whatever), and after a period roughly the equivalent of the Stone Age, we found our car. Which, by the way, has a little Kermit the Frog antennae topper to make it easier to find.

Anyway, the point I want to make is that at no time did either of us wig out, burst into tears, or snap at each other.

True, several times we marveled at our stupidity and wondered if we should just call it quits and walk the 5 or so miles back home. But at least we did it while laughing, so that’s not so bad. And when we got home, we ate chocolate. That made everything better.

Thanks for getting lost with me, Daughter.

 

 

Author: C. J. Hartwell

Christi lives in Phoenix with Husband, Son, Daughter, and Dog. She enjoys moonlit walks on the beach, but as she doesn't live anywhere near a beach, she's usually in bed by 9:30.

7 thoughts on “Parking Lots, Lost Cars, and You”

  1. I agree, it is confusing! We’ve shopped there and have decided that the only way we won’t lose our car is to move it each time we finish a certain section. If we are at Kohl’s, we park midway between it and Target. When it is time to go to Jo-Ann’s, we move the car to the other lot, and park midway between there and Ross! That cuts the search area to about a third!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. LOL OMG! This happened to my sister and I. Quite frankly, I’m thankful for the the alarms on the key, this is how I’m reminded which car I’m driving, and where where I park.
    Thanks for sharing this story. I though I was among the few ones …
    Thanks for visiting my blog as well.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I thought of pressing the alarm button, then realized I had the ordinary key – my son had the main one. Augh!
      You’re right, it helps to know we’re not alone. Sometimes I see people wandering in a parking lot, looking confused, and I feel somehow related to them!

      Like

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