Exiting a parking garage can be a tricky process, at least for those idiots who still haven’t grasped the subtleties of inserting a ticket into a machine. I often grow frustrated with those ill-prepared drivers in front of me — the ones who take upwards of 60 seconds to complete a 30 second transaction. The most common problem it seems is that people simply don’t have their money ready. They’ve idiotically stowed away their wallet or purse in the wasteland of their back seat, hidden under piles of clothing and groceries and general clutter. Of course, there are then those special times — which happen more frequently than you’d expect — when the person in front of you has gone so far as to have packed his or her wallet in the trunk. This, my friends, is simply unacceptable.
Of course, these things happen to the best of us. I one time found myself behind NYPD Blue actor Henry Simmons, and I’m not sure exactly what he had done to the machine, but it was bad enough to warrant him getting out of his car and finding an attendant. How richly embarrassing. The humiliation he must have felt is why I try my absolute best to be quick and efficient when leaving a parking structure. I always make sure money is nearby, the ticket has been placed in a highly visible location (central console, usually), and the window is already at least halfway down by the time I pull up to the attendant or machine. It’s a recipe for success, but sometimes even the best of us have a dreaded misstep. That happened today.
Earlier today, after having had a pleasant workout (sadly, no star sightings at the gym), I stepped into my car and prepared for the impending exit process. I placed my validated parking ticket in my center console for easy accessibility and then checked my coin tray. It was bountiful. All signs pointed to a smooth and hassle-free egress.
I then drove down a series of ramps to the exit, and as I descended to my destination, I turned on the radio, hoping to find a decent soundtrack for my parking garage departure. The first thing that came on was NPR, and while I enjoyed the sudden rush of feeling smart and sophisticated, I just wasn’t in the mood to hear about airlifts in the greater Nile region. I quickly began the harried process of flipping through stations, hoping to find a suitable tune, and eventually, I landed on 93.9 FM, which has essentially an upbeat adult contemporary “dance” format. The station was just wrapping up on song and heading into the next; so I kept it on, hoping for good things. In the meantime, I had reached the parking attendant, and as I inched towards his window, my concentration shifted into maximum efficiency mode.
Ticket? Check.
Money? Check.
Window already down? Check.
Everything was right on schedule. I handed the guy my parking ticket, and as the computer processed my dues, I pulled out a dollar bill and opened up my coin tray. As expected, I only owed $1.50. I reached into the tray and nimbly pulled out two coins, but something didn’t feel right. I looked down at my fingers, and to my great shock, there I found an errant nickel quietly passing itself off as its larger, more popular brethren.
This was no good. I reached back into the coin drawer, but as I did so I sheepishly looked at the parking attendant. He was staring at me with a combination of boredom, annoyance, and condescension. I knew I wasn’t at full efficiency, but I was hardly being awful. Why the strange look? And then I figured it out. Amidst all my preparations and nickel follies, the song on 93.9 had not only started up, but it had reached its seminal, iconic first lyrics. Yes, blasting out of my car was Diana Ross’s disco hit, “I’m Coming Out.”
HORRIFYING.
My first instinct was to merely own it. Who cares what this attendant thinks? So what if the song is “embarrassing” or “humiliating” or “utterly mortifying”? I don’t have to prove myself to anyone!
And then my second instinct kicked in: I do care what this attendant thinks. This song IS embarrassing, humiliating, and utterly mortifying. And I DO have to prove myself to everyone, especially this attendant!
I knew that I had to change my radio station pronto, but it wouldn’t be easy. After all, I was already lagging in the efficiency department, and any wasted second spent on music would push me into the red zone of idiot driver territory. I had to gather my coins. That was the biggest priority.
But oh, that song. THAT SONG. I couldn’t keep it on. I knew I only had one chance to remedy the situation. My best bet would be to switch to the hip hop station, 105.9 FM. That would surely restore my street cred and repair the unspoken bond I had quickly developed with this attendant. I would once again be cool, and all would be right with the world. 105.9 was merely two spots away in the pre-sets, and I knew that while I was gathering coins in my left-hand, I could swiftly tap the “Next” arrow on my steering wheel twice, and order would be restored.
And so I quickly pushed the button twice, hoping to find sweet salvation in the land of hip-hop. Unfortunately, something went dreadfully wrong, and in the process of doing this, I somehow dislodged my one quarter, sending it to the ground. OH MY GOD. I immediately lunged forward and picked it up in less than a second, thus reducing the time wasted in retrieval, but as a result of this twist, my attempts at changing the station had been bungled. I only got to press the “next” button once, which meant that instead of tuning into the hip-hop station, I instead wound up on the exact opposite frequency: 103.5 FM. K-OST. THE LIGHT STATION. And it gets worse. Gone was Diana Ross. In her place was… TONI BRAXTON. Yes, I was now blasting “Another Sad Love Song,” which is admittedly a good song, but in the context of “I’m Coming Out,” well, it just didn’t help my cause. The attendant’s expression changed from slight disdain to total dismissal. My cool cred — that intangible quality that I so rarely possess — was gone.
Being that I was already so clumsy, I couldn’t waste anymore time rectifying the radio situation. I quickly procured a second quarter and paid the fee, happy to leave this situation once and for all. The good news was that a) there was no one behind me, and b) I still was faster than most people who don’t have their money ready. But still, it was a humbling experience.
I listened to Flo Rida all the way back home.