Last night I spent the night hanging out with a friend in “historic” Mount Vernon in Baltimore city.  When someone tells you that you are in a “historic” part of Baltimore, what they really mean is: You would have more luck getting Shakira to agree to take a bubble bath with you, than finding street parking.  My friend recommended I try the parking garage just north of where we were meeting.

I easily found the garage, and was greeted my new arch nemesis, Wanda.  (Name changed for protection and because I can’t remember her name).  Wanda has to be one of the sassiest parking attendants ever.  When a parking attendants says “So you here to park,” you know you’re not off to a good start.  This also frequently happens at the barber shop, “What can we do for you?”   In both of these situations, I’m unaware of any reason why I would be there besides parking and a hair cut respectively.

Wanda proceeded to give me sass for the following reasons:

1.When ambiguously asked to park “Over there” I picked the wrong spot out of the open 20 spots

2.When asked how long I planned to park, I said I’m not sure.

Other estimates I was unable to provide:
a) The number of jelly beans in a jar
b) How many more weeks of winter we will have
c) How long it has been since Wanda’s heart felt an emotion other than pure hatred

3.I was ten minutes past the time Wanda suggested I come back to the garage. This was about as catastrophic as World War II in Wanda’s eyes.

4.When she asked for my parking ticket, I gave her a business card reminding me when my next dental appointment is.  They were both in the same coat pocket, and around the same size.  An honest mistake.