Ever notice how it's the little things in life that amuse us so much? More to the point, ever notice how it's the silly little idiocies in life that amuse us more than anything else? Well, this is not as much ''the little blog that could'' as it is ''the blog that enjoys going up the down escalator in your local mall.'' Will it have anything of real importance? No, probably not. But enjoy the ride never the less!

 
Deja Vuyaaaaaarg!!

I do recall some 2-3 entries ago how I mentioned (and I quote): I'd like to be able to apologize and say that in future posts I won't make myself look so idiotic...but the odds are I'd screw up that fount of idealism before the end of the week. Well, as it just so happens, it hasn't yet been a week, and there goes the fount.

My Dad & I headed off to the local Farmer's Market to nab some choice meat cuts that wouldn't cost us $20 at a grocery store. Now the first thing to bear in mind as you read this is that 90% of all Ontario drivers are insane and should never have been allowed in a car, let alone driving one. As a side note, happily my Dad is not one of said people, but he does scare me at times with his best Days of Thunder impression.

Now then, back to 90% of all drivers going into the Farmer's Market being ill-equipped to drive. Consider the parking lot, and that estimate goes from 90% to 97%. For some inexplicable reason, the size of the parking lot is inversely proportional to the brainpower drivers use when inside it. And given how large the St. Jacob's Farmer's Market is (as a point of reference: it's bloody huge), you have a large grouping of idiots in very small, very crowded laneways.

From the woman who turns left just in front of the red, blatantly large "DO NOT TURN LEFT" sign, to the couple who seem to think that stopping their car in the middle of a major thru-way (and frigging up the already slow-moving traffic) is the best means of scanning other lanes to see if there are vacant spots (hint: why not actually drive down the lane to see if there are any vacancies, like everyone else?), this parking lot was not making me feel any better about the fate of humanity.

"But wait," you ask, "if this rant is about you making an idiot of yourself, why are you whining about all those other idiots around you?" Well the answer is simple. If I showcase the other ones first, you may not laugh so hard at my shining cloud of stupidity.

*shrug!* Hey, it's worth a shot.

Anyhoo, my Dad manages to find a spot, which at this point is like finding an oasis in the Sahara, and pulls in. This is hampered by the fact that the persons on our left and right conspired together and both parked on the yellow lines of our stall. Needless to say, I'm very happy that I am so thoroughly well-trimmed at the waist, or else I would have never been able to fit through that foot-wide opening between our car door and the rest of the car.

The shopping goes well enough. It's the return to the car that proved vexing...and painful. Very painful. You see, me being the considerate person I was, I didn't feel right throwing open my car door and scratching the paintjob on the "hey, let's line up our tires on that cute yellow line!" car next to my side. So I squeeze back into my foot-wide opening and go through the motions that everyone does: lower head, get into sitting position, yank car door closed as you slip inside.

This in theory would have worked flawlessly for me here. However...I had forgotten that instead of the usual 2-3 feet of space, I had merely 1 foot of clearance. So before I have the chance to lower my head beneath the roof canopy of the car...I slammed the door into my neck.

Yes, yes, laugh at my pain. I wish I had some snappy comeback...but that's not the end of my humiliation, so I'll just shut up right now.

You see, I whacked the right side of my neck just beneath the back of the jawbone. So in effect, I delivered a serious blow to the base of my skull, somehow miraculously missing the spinal column. This was a good thing. The intertia from this blow then sending the midsection of the left side of my neck crashing into the rooftop of the car, however, definitely falls into the "bad things" category. I would argue it may even fall into the dreaded, "bad dog no biscuit" category.

All this happens in roughly a few seconds. My head is turned into a pingpong ball, and my neck suffers to grievous indignities to either side. By the time I've figured out what's happened to me (blinding, unexpected pain does kind of take one by surprise, after all), I'm sitting in the car going to myself: "Head down, then close door! Head down, then close door!"

We escaped the parking lot without further incident, but I fear I shall forever bear the emotional scars that trip has left upon me. The pain I suffer at being so chagrined far outweighs the stinging of my neck. Why must I always suffer for being right....

Today's lesson: Head down, then close door. Or alternately, parking lots are hazardous to your health.


posted by Phillip at 6:11 PM