They say that three strikes and you’re out.
They say three’s company.
They say that the third time’s the charm.
They say that three coffees is six two few.
They say. They say. They say.
I’m tired of “they say.” I want to make the rules. I want to have my say.
Bill says: Three strikes and you’re out unless you really tried in which case you get two more, but only if Bill Sez.
Bill says: Three’s company. You can stay three days, then pack up and get out, but only if Bill Sez.
Bill says: Third time’s not the charm. Second time’s the charm, then you’re a moron, especially if it takes you three times to park your car. Bill don’t have to Sez on this.
Case in point. I pulled into my local grocery store as I usually do by turning right into Entrance Number One and proceeding to what I call the Down Aisle which lines me up with the store entrance and in close proximity to the cart return rack. Entrance Number One is the premier entrance to professional shoppers like me. Close to the front door. Close to the cart return rack. Perfectly lined up for egress to the street and home. (I love using the word “egress.” So few opportunities.)
So, cruising on auto-pilot, guiding my vehicle to Parking Nirvana, imagine my surprise as I came face-to-face, nose-to-nose, toe-to-toe, bumper-to-bumper with a large vehicle driven by a very small person going Up the Down.
Up the Down?
UP THE DOWN! That’s like driving on a One Way street the Other Way. That’s like climbing Up a ladder when I’m climbing Down the same ladder. That’s like, that’s like ...
I began to sputter. In French. Zut alors! Up zee Down!
Not only was this inconsiderate moron driving Up the Down but he was driving what can only be called a Land Barge, a huge vehicle of universal proportions.
A Chevy Suburban would have been dwarfed by comparison. So would a Ford Excursion or a Humvee.
This vehicle was truly huge. It would be like driving an aircraft carrier on wheels. That huge. I’m surprised he didn’t have tugboats guiding him Up the Down.
It’s inconceivable this wrong-way Peachfuzz captain was going the Wrong Way. Up the Down!
I squeezed to one side to let Captain Moron do his thing and begone. Fortunately, he slid by at zero miles per hour, standard operating speed for morons and disappeared behind me.
But, then, before I could mutter zut alors again, Captain Moron proceeded to go down the next parking aisle. Down the Up!
Not content to drive Up the Down, now he drives Down the Up!
I pulled out my moron ledger and scribbled, “Strike Two.”
Now, a more forgiving type might have excused Captain Moron for having mistaken the Up aisle for the Down aisle, and then the Down aisle for the Up aisle.
Except for one thing.
The parking lot aisles are marked by H U G E A R R O W S that can be
There they are in the photo below copied graciously from the good people at Google*. Giant, white seen-from-outer-fricking-space Arrows pointing Up the Up and Down the Down!
The bottom line is that if you can’t navigate a parking lot then you need to be restricted to a bicycle.
And soft food.
And that’s because, Bill Sez.
*(Google, who makes Life better and brings better Life to you!)