Few things make me want to rediscover religion like trying to find parking in New York City. The few times I've driven here, it's been only vaguely irritating until it's time to park, which is when dread seeps through the walls of my skull. So many shiny cars sitting idle, their owners already in post-parking bliss. Fire hydrants open holes of hope only to mock me as I roll past what I thought was an empty space. I rage at cars that could be positioned closer to each other, which would give me maybe enough space to squeeze into a spot. By the end of it all, I find myself praying to the parking gods, please, for a slab of free asphalt. Read more...
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