I talked a bit about the Pittsburgh Parking chair over at the Pittsburgh Magazine blog, but let’s dig a little deeper here.
There are a few ways people look at the Pittsburgh Parking Chair:
1. It’s acceptable in the winter when you’ve spent 3 hours digging your space out, but it’s kind of rude in the warmer months when you’ve done nothing to earn that space.
2. It’s acceptable. Always. Respect the chair. Always. Or face street justice. [awkward kung fu moves]
3. It’s never acceptable. Ever. It’s rude and illegal and I don’t care if you dug the space out for two hours. If you leave, I can claim that space, even if it means I have to move your stupid chair.
Now, here at That’s Church we can agree to disagree, so I hope you agree to disagree with me if you’re a two or a three, because this girl right here? I’m a one. I understand it in the winter, but not so much in the summer. In the winter, I kind of equate it to, let’s say you’re at the arts festival and you’ve secured your gyros and your spinach pies and your other artery-clogging foods, and you head over to find a table. The only table you can find that is not being used is covered in trash and maybe some pigeon poop. You take some time to pick everything up and wipe the table down, after which you head to the trash can to throw the crap away. However, when you return, that table you just cleaned off is now occupied by a group of people and the food you left there to save your table has been moved and placed on the floor. It might make you feel a little [awkward kung fu moves] don’t you think?
This week, it appears that a number three moved a parking space saver and left a note for a number one or a number two.
Here’s the note that the number three left:
Here’s her back windshield, likely street justice doled out by Mr. Super Pissed Off Number One or Two:
Here’s my opinion on this.
The windshield never should have been broken. That was a bit TOO MUCH street justice. If he feels that strongly about it, next time Mr. Number One or Two should just bury the car and force Miss Number Three to dig it out herself so she can see how much work went into it.
However, Miss Number Three might want to meet the kettle because her beef is that shoveled-out space-saving is RUDE, underlined RUDE, and therefore, she calls out this perceived rudeness via a rude, and let’s just call a bitchy spade a bitchy spade, bitchy note.
The moral of this post is this: Don’t smash a windshield unless you’re rescuing a trapped baby or unless your golfer husband slept with a baker’s dozen of gross ho-bags. Don’t leave rude notes when you decide, ill-advisedly, to move a parking chair. And finally, all pigeons must die. [expert lightsaber moves].