The Cannon Parking Lot: A Short Story.

It’s 6:55am, I get into my car and sit staring at the wheel for a good 30 seconds. I’m trying to prepare myself for the horrors to come, but I know I can’t. I start the engine of my Dodge Ram 1500, and hear it’s 8 cylinders roar to life beneath my hood.

It’s time.

The first mile passes without issue, as expected, I don’t usually face issues until El Camino anyway. I pass through the Sheraton and Legoland and keep going down Cannon. As I approach the dreaded intersection, I can already see the headlights of the cars and I haven’t even passed Frost lane yet. I prepare to queue in line and I see that I’ve stopped just past where the concrete ends. No worries, I think to myself, I can just make sure I go as soon as the light turns green and I’ll make it.

I tailgate the Prius in front of me, getting as close as I can without causing property damage. The light turns yellow after approximately 4 seconds and, for a fleeting second, we make eye contact. “NO. She wouldn’t,” I think, knowing all too well she is. She begins to slow at the intersection with 3 seconds of good yellow light still left. I slam on the breaks, and 5000 pounds of metal comes to a frightening stop. I look down with fear and see its now 7:05am. I’m only 1/3 of a mile from school but I know that means nothing.

After another 4 minute traffic cycle, it’s once again time to go. The north-southbound lights turn yellow and I inch forward, closing the last few inches of space in front of me. Yellow, red, and then finally, green. The female in front of me decides to take her sweet-ass time coming to a start and I follow her into the intersection. I look up to see that Pam must be having an off day, as the traffic is now all the way up to Windtrail. “No. This can’t happen. Not today. I have a pep rally to prepare for,” I silently curse my luck. The city bus passes me on the right, but I think nothing of it.

After inching forward for days, I see that I only have 1/4 of a mile left. I can see Sage Creek now. One could be forgiven for thinking that I would make it on time, as it was now still only 7:15am, but my tribulations were just beginning.

Ahead of me I see that the bus is now at an odd angle, facing slightly towards my lane now. “No, there’s no way,” I think to myself, “He wouldn’t.” But he would. The bus driver turns on his left turn signal and I panic. “I can’t get stuck behind him,” I say to an unlistening God. I attempt to move up, to get just far enough past him that I won’t have to wait but the Prius decides to doom us both. She let’s him merge.

The light ahead turns red, dooming the bus to sit halfway across both lanes. No one can move. I look down and see, to my horror, that it is now 7:21am. I’m not going to make it.

After an eon passes, the traffic signal turns green and we wait for the traffic snake to make it’s way past us. I wipe sweat from my brow as I prepare for the next challenge: The opportunistic lane changers (OLC’s). Like a game show, this next part requires skill. It requires a mental focus uncanny to the rest. I would need to concentrate harder than any Sage Creek assignment ever required me to.

As we inch forward again, I survey the scene. To my left I am parallel with two cars. The front: a mom, two kids, driving a Honda Civic. Just behind her sits a minivan, piloted by a man in his fifties. I examine the Mom’s face, searching for any giveaway that she might be considering it. She sits stone faced staring at the car in front of her and waiting for them to move. The bus begins to roll forward, entering the left lanes on cannon. The driver of the Prius inches forward and allows a gap to form in front of her before suddenly jetting forward.

“Shit,” I exclaim. I’ve seen this before. I look next to me in horror and slam my foot on the gas knowing all too well what’s to happen. The right lane moves forward allowing the Civic to get ahead of me and for me time stops as She turns on her left indicator. I try and close the gap, but it’s too late, my car can’t get up to speed fast enough. She has already began her lane change. It’s 7:25am now and we’re almost at the Cannon-College intersection, but I don’t care. My only hope now is to stem the flow of OLC’s but by now it was too late. Like bees, the Opportunistic lane changers seem to communicate through pheromones, as when one goes more always seem to follow. The minivan behind me, sensing a disturbance, moves forward and takes the place of the Civic.

I glare at the driver, silently trying to communicate that I had no intention of letting another mistake through. He appeared to get the message, as he slowed his momentum. I look back in front of me, trying to make eye contact the driver of the civic via her rear-view mirror to give her a good death stare. While trying to catch her glimpse, I realize that she is in fact on her phone, probably planning afternoon tennis with the girls, and has allowed a gap to form in front of her. My hand hovers over my horn when, out of the corner of my eye, I see the minivan inching forward. By the time I realize what’s happened its too late. The Civic allowed to large of a gap to form in front of it, which the minivan took advantage of by illegally lane changing in the intersection. We move forward as the light once again goes yellow and suddenly Mrs. Tennis Mom stops her Civic, causing me to pause with half my truck-bed halfway into the intersection.

Traffic is moving a bit faster now, as it seems Pam has gotten into the swing of it. I inch forward to avoid pissing off the person left turning behind me, my only solace in that people rarely try and merge after the intersection. Just as I approach the turn, Pam practically throws herself in front of my car, and after collecting herself, directs the parents leaving the traffic circle. I shudder as the clock hits 7:27am. Finally I pull into the senior lot and narrowly avoid hitting the Campus supervisor as he dives out of the way. Someone has placed a “Senior lot only” sign directly in the middle of the road, and even if that sign wasn’t there, my car is wider than the lane leading into the top lot.

I careen into the nearest open spot, taking up more than half of the one next to it, and sprint away from my shitty parking job. Suddenly the bell rings, but I still have the staircase to ascend. I make it to the top breathing heavily, only 6 seconds after the bell rang, but it’s too late. Cory Leighton, Athletic director for Sage Creek High School stands staring at me. “And just where do you think your going young man,” Leighton questions me. “Just trying to get to class,” I say trying to edge past him. “No you don’t, go get a hero pass.” The world collapses around me. I’m too late. I toil in line for several minutes. She hands me my late pass and I trudge onto first period.

7:38am.

User Reviews:

JOEY I JUST READ THIS I LOVE IT. BLESS YOUR SOUL. SAVE US ALL. – Kuehl, Amanthius