Damn This Traffic Jam

Since I only have one child still in the purgatory that is RES, I drop her off and generally I run an errand with my son - eyebrow wax for me, or new gym uniform for him, or maybe a trip to a water ice place before it gets too cold to enjoy a gelato.

But the sense of order and control is short-lived and overshadowed with a sense of impending doom. RES ends at 8 pm - and I must retrieve my child from the inspired madness fueled by untrained volunteers.

A few minutes before 8, I make my approach to Our Lady of Condemnation.

The lot is nearly full - at 8 minutes to the hour! Do these people have nothing better to do than to sit and while away precious moments behind the wheels of their minivans? Are their lives so bereft of meaning that they'd voluntarily spend a free hour idling in their environmentally conscientious hybrid vehicles just to get a favorable spot in the parking lot?

I cruise past the mayhem and around the corner to The Pit - the lower parking lot that doubles as a playground. As if playing were allowed at Our Lady of Condemnation.

It is the Rebel Lot.

Because the RES folks (the BOARD?) want to be able to say they have things completely under control, the gates to The Pit, like tonight, are often closed. A deterrent for lazier rebels.

Not that easily defeated, I do what I generally do - for myself and in service to the other rebels. I put the car in neutral, yank on the parking brake, and go to prop open the gates. (I've broken many a nail moving the trash can in front of the gate that tends to drift...)

But this time, the RES tyrants have gotten wise to us. They've locked the #%&*%$ gates.

I am swearing on church property.

Pissed beyond the point of redemption, I return to my car, and lay wheels all the way through the neighborhood that abuts Our Lady of Condemnation, circle the rectory, and return to the parking lot "manned" by the volunteers who believe themselves to be doing God's work.

It, like the lot on the Sundays when there is a "special Mass," is jammed to capacity (because no one has ever done the math and figured out that X cars will never fit in a lot designed for X-Y cars. Even if you remove their hats. Popes in a Volkswagon!) The volunteers have directed all of the drivers to park in nice neat columns and rows in the exact order in which they appeared in the lot.

And now, about 6 cars are in various positions half way in and half way out of the lot, or blocking a lane of traffic, or impeding the progress of drivers in the opposite lane of traffic.

While the local police officer keeps a watchful eye, preserving order and preventing road rage.

Pissy Patty Potty Mouth is about to make another appearance.