Screw Ups

It was a hundred degrees, give or take, and I had been standing in a six-inch patch of shade near my vehicle for a while. I wasn’t exactly locked out, I just couldn’t get in.

I claim full responsibility. I pulled into a compact car designated slot when I shouldn’t have (in my defense, the asphalt paint “C” had faded). I was also too close to the driver’s line although there no car was parked there. Most importantly, I had second thoughts that I didn’t act on before walking away. It had occurred to me to repark and move closer to the passenger-side line, but the car to the right was hugging that line. Generously, I wanted to give them room to enter their car. And I was in a hurry and there were tons of other parking places, so what were the odds?

Like a moth to flame, a white mid-size SUV parked in the spot to my left during my absence. I would’ve had a shooting chance of squeezing into the driver’s door if the neighboring vehicle had pulled in straight. It had not. Fine, I thought, I’ll climb over from the passenger side. Alas, the console between seats is so high I couldn’t make it. Now, if removing my head had been an option…Oh, did I mention it was my birthday? Nothing like a series of bad decisions on your special day to leave you literally sweating.

Can you recall a blunder when you had second thoughts that you chose to ignore? Universal ones include being on the wrong side of a now locked door or wearing ill-advised footwear for the conditions or eating “just a bite” of toxic food or ignoring the weather report—the list is endless. Then there are the raft of relationship or political gaffs starting with speaking without engaging the brain first. Or hitting “send” prematurely.

The depth of understanding the doodoo you’re in arrives in news flashes to your addled brain. The first reaction is astonishment—"did I really do that?” Then comes the hand smack against the forehead, “what was I thinking?” If you had a premonition, this is where you get to blame yourself, “why didn’t I listen?” Next is, “how do I get out of this?” followed closely by “can I do this alone or do I need help?” This last stage can take a while as it’s hard to admit you’ve made a mistake, so you try one thing after another with or without success.

We don’t readily admit to mishaps unless they make a particularly funny story. We’re busted, though, when we have to ask for help. Frankly, I’m grateful when it doesn’t require a trip to the emergency room, an expensive, painful, and potentially embarrassing admission of being a flawed human. When I worked in a hospital, I (like many of my colleagues) would say, “If it’s serious, bring me here. If it’s something stupid, please take me to a hospital in a different town.”  

There’s no way to avoid all blunders. We hope to learn the first time but often it takes repetition to finally get it. Pain tends to reinforce the need to assimilate the lesson quickly. Going forward, I won’t leave my vehicle so close to the driver’s side parking line—at least until the memory fades. I also vow to look more closely and avoid C slots.

On that particularly sweltering July day, I got lucky. I scanned the lot like the focused predator I was, sizing up each driver and passenger who pulled in. I was waiting for a skinny young person who’d be willing to help me. He finally arrived; his pregnant companion was unqualified for the job. I approached and he agreed to be a hero.

We both got stories out of it. Score!