A parallel problem...

Superman had kryptonite, Optimus Prime had Megatron, the Wicked Witch had water, Saddam had W, and I have parallel parking. Well, more specifically, I have situational-parallel parking as my ultimate nemesis.

I used to be a pro at parallel parking. I was the one that would get pulled up from the reserves of the back seat in an emergency Chinese fire drill to hop in the driver’s seat and perform a parking feat of parallel beauty in a cramped spot with a line of waiting cars providing onlooker pressure. I have lost my powers. They have been neutralized.

How? By the presence of Hunt. He didn’t mean to do it. He has faith in me that I can do it. That I can regain my capabilities. Without fail, if he is in my car, in his car on the same street, or I can sense him within a 3-mile radius I am rendered unable to park in a parallel fashion. What ensues is multiple aborted attempts, many huffs and puffs, a few exasperated exclamations, the obligatory protest that "I can do this!” and “I used to be awesome at this!” and general angst and a steadily declining mood. All of this tends to improve once I am safely in the spot after 12 minutes and able to walk away from the scene of my defeat.

I’m not sure when this happened. Maybe it’s the “pride cometh before the fall,” maybe it’s a first child, type-A personality, maybe it’s all in my head and I just need to calm down. On another note, men, never say this to a woman if you expect to walk away without a limp. Thankfully, I haven’t heard this comment, or anything close to it, or it might make this situation go from bad to much, much worse. Just saying.



George: Alright, now you're gonna see some parallel parking. How I wish you could make a living parallel parking. It's all geometry, knowing all the angles, when to make that first turn and then when to swing it back in, that's the key.

Elaine: Will you just park it already?

George: There's nothing I can even impart to you, that's the sad thing. It's so inborn, I can't pass it on.