Page 40 of Spicy Ever After
At least not yet.
When I get to Moncus Park, that’s another matter.
“Mmmm….mmmm….mmmm….mmmm.”
It’s Saturday morning. Traffic will be light. And I really just have to drive on two streets. My own: West St. Mary Boulevard and Johnston Street.
Even though I’m just leaving my driveway, I still use my turn signal before I turn right onto my street.
“Mmmm….mmmm….mmmm….mmmm.”
Besides one car traveling in the opposite lane, the road is empty. Except for the lawn service trailer on the corner of Agnes and St. Mary that I have to move around.
And while parking on the curb—unless it’s in a No Parking Zone—isn’t a violation, I object to vehicles parking on curbs.
I should be able to travel completely in my own lane and not have to move around parked vehicles.
“Mmmm….mmmm….mmmm….mmmm.”
The light at St. Mary and Congress is green, and I’m traveling at twenty-four miles per hour. I’m about fifty yards away when it turns yellow. I brake. Of course, I brake.
Smirking, I congratulate myself that I’ve come to a full stop just as the light turns red.
No WHAMS! for me.
Still, I’m nervous. And not just because Johnston Street will be more crowded than St. Mary.
And I’ll have to get into the left lane.
And also make a left turn.
And then find a place to park and make the big decision:
Back in when I get there or back out when I leave?
Statistically, I know it’s supposed to be safer to back into your parking spot.
But I also think I’m more nervous now than I will be after my Hell-Yes-It’s-A-Real-Date-Coffee-Date with Beck.
At least, I hope so.
I’m early. And it’s a good thing. Because even after I successfully make it into the turning lane at the park’s entrance, panic grips me.
It’s. So. Crowded.
“Mmmm….mmmm….mmmm….mmmm.”
Market stalls and tents cover the park’s slopes. People are everywhere. The Farmer’s Market teems like a kicked ant hill. The children’s playground is overrun. Even the small dog park, which is meant for small dogs, is full of small—and, confoundingly, not small—dogs and their owners.
A break in traffic allows me to pull in, and only then do I see the big sign beside the drive.
LOT FULL
“Mmmm….mmmm….mmmm….mmmm.”
I grip the steering wheel.
“Mmmm….mmmm….mmmm….mmmm.”
