Watching the Fish at Cabela's Get Fed

A while ago I wrote a blog about bad drivers. Part of what I wrote about was the parking here at UVU and how much I hate people who stop their cars in the middle of the path and wait for a spot to open up.  I have a confession to make,  yesterday morning, I was one of those people.

Don't burn me at the stake just yet, let me justify myself.  First, let me paint you a picture.  I go to a community college which just upped its number of students, so much so that the current stat on parking is 1 spot to 6 students.  Now, this doesn't take into account the people who walk and take the bus, but I go to a commuter school (which means few people walk) and I live in Utah (which means that the only way they'd take the bus is if they woke up two hours early to do so).  Let's say, to be fair and probably pretty conservative, that it's more like 1 spot to every 4.5 people.  Either way, there aren't many spots available, and I'm surprised that no one has been shot over getting a good spot, even here in Orem. 

So, with this competition, I get to school about an hour early every day, just in case a spot doesn't open up for a while (I've almost been late before doing this, I kid you not).  Yesterday, upon arrival, I scoped out the lot and saw seven cars driving around, every spot taken, and exactly zero students walking to their cars.  I drove around a bit and finally realized that I was just waisting gas and should probably stop driving until the students came out.  So I sat.

As I sat, more cars came.  So many more that I looked in my rear view and saw a row of ten cars slowly driving the other way.  All with no real hope because students had not come out yet.  Where I was parked happened to be looking right at the main doors to one of the busiest buildings at my college, so I watched them. 

Have you ever been to Cabela's when they drop little fish into the bass and trout tank for feeding time?  If so, keep that in mind. 

The doors opened and out poured dozens of students.  I could feel the tension mounting around me.  I began strangling my steering wheel and poking out my elbows in preparation to get one of these prized spots.  I saw other drivers doing the same.  A few were unaware of the swarm of students heading our way, but I was not about to let them in on the secret.  My animal instincts kicked in, and I was going to get what I wanted.

This whole time, I stayed in the same spot.  I debated moving, but I was in a good spot.  In front of me lied dozens of spots, ripe for the picking, once students reached them.  So I sat.  That's right folks.  I was one of the squatters who was too selfish to drive around like everyone else.  I defended my own conscience by noting that cars were constantly passing me; if I moved I would probably cause an accident.  Oh, what a liar I was (Gulliver's Travels reference anyone?)

I did eventually get a spot, though I probably didn't deserve it.  I feel a little bad, but I do understand how some of these people get to be squatters.  It's not that they are the jerks I thought they were, it's that they don't want to waste gas, and once that shoot opens up that let all the fish students out into the tank lot, it's hard not to just wait for an easy meal spot.