Friday Night Parking
by Steve Barker

--Fina-fucking-lly, work was over and still one hour of sunlight. Two days off to drink, party, and live by my own rules. After ten hours the shift was over. Ten hours, half of which was spent elbow deep in brown water scrubbing scraps off plates and lipstick off glasses. The other half spent bussing tables filled with ungrateful assholes. I was glad to be out of there and didn’t have to be back for two days.
--Walking to my car I noticed a gash on the side of my car. I ran my hand down it and chipped paint stuck to my finger. It sucked, but nothing could kill my buzz, I was just happy to be out of there. So, I ignored it and a smile split my face.
--My girl called me 10 minutes before I got off to let me know that my brother was in town. I hadn’t seen him in years. I couldn’t wait; it was going to be the kind of night that isn’t always remembered in the morning, but is relived three days later from the help of a disposable camera.
--I cranked the music as the engine ignited then sped down to Melrose Street. Melrose was usually the best bet for finding a parking spot. People were skeptical about parking there, because of the steep hills. What did I care? I had a Honda Civic, they’re indestructible.
--Right off the bat a spot looked promising. I crept toward it, but there was a sign next to the open area covered in graffiti and band stickers. I wasn’t sure what the sign was trying to express. I stopped and weighed my options. It probably didn’t say something good like, just letting you know you can park here. I thought if I did get a ticket I could fight it in court because of the stickers, but then I’d have to take time off work and that would be a huge waste of a day off. I pulled out of the spot.
--As I was moving back on the road I noticed in my rearview mirror a guy crouched beside the car behind me. His unkempt, curly hair caught the corner of my eye. He must have thought he was out of my vision and I watched him dig inside a gym bag. As he was going to pull out whatever he was looking for, our eyes met in the mirror. He glared at me with a sinister look and I sped off.
--After about five laps between Summit and Bellevue, which were both lined with cars barely an inch apart, it was time for another attempt at Melrose. I crept down the street like a hunter, then saw the same creepy haired guy peering into the window of another car. I sped passed him and we made eye contact. I was forced to stop at a stop sign when I saw in my mirror that he was running towards my car. I pressed hard on the gas and drove up towards Broadway. “What the fuck?” I asked myself.
--I had been off work for twenty minutes and the sun’s shine was dwindling so I decided to expand my parking range. My laps between Summit and Bellevue expanded to Denny and Roy and still there was nothing but streets lined with cars. I was beginning to get fed up. I had just spent ten hours at a shitty job and I needed a drink.
I was stopped at an intersection when my phone rang.
--“Hello.”
--“Hey, when are you coming home?” my girl asked.
--“Any minute, I just need to find a spot.”
--“You’d think on Friday night people would be out.”
--“Yeah, but I guess people came over.”
--“Well, I’m waiting. And your brother wants to start taking shots of Jager, but I told him he had to wait for you.”
--“Get home brother, I want to get wasted,” I heard screamed through the phone.
--“Why don’t you check Melrose? There’s usually spots down there,” my girl said after taking the phone back from my brother.
--“Yeah, I’ll check down there, then park illegally if I can’t find anything.”
--“Don’t get a ticket.”
--“Fuck it; I’ve already wasted 5 bucks worth of gas.”
--“Well be careful.”
--“See ya soon.”
--“Bye.”
--I took my chances and went back down to Melrose. As I pulled on the street I saw a crazy haired shadow in the doorway of an apartment complex fidgeting with the mailboxes. I rolled past him hoping not to be seen, but as I was next to him he turned. Our eyes locked and he shouted, “HEY.” He lunged at my window and his dark eyes pierced the glass. I shook, then slammed on the gas and sped down the street. The streetlights reflected off his crazy hair as he sprinted after me in the middle of the road. His silhouette got smaller in the rearview mirror and I flicked the lock switch.
--I stopped at a red light at Denny and my heart raced. My beaten clammy dish water hands gripped the wheel tight. Why was this guy after me? Did he think I was going to call the cops on him? I’m no vigilante. I took deep breaths until the light turned green.
--Back on Bellevue I scoured the line of cars. I stopped at a break in the bumpers, but my Civic was a foot too long to fit. There must have been a Volkswagen there, I thought. Then I saw an open spot in front of a stop sign, but the sign read must be thirty feet away; I was about fifteen. I turned off the engine and was about to get out when I examined the consequences. If I parked there and got a 40 dollar ticket that would mean I spent the last five hours at work for nothing. I turned the car back on and kept searching.
--I started to lose my cool. By then, I had been off work for forty-five minutes and my patience was dying. My focus wandered and I almost ran a stop sign, and then I noticed a pedestrian crossing the street at the last moment and almost hit him. I mouthed an apology, but the guy flipped me off. The weekend would not begin until my car was parked.
--The streets were completely dark by then, and the sidewalk was filled with groups of friends heading to bars or house parties; I envied them.
--Just as I started contemplating leaving my car in the middle of the street I saw reverse lights. I sped to them. A Camry was pulling out of a spot. Camry, perfect, I thought, just the right size. I sat completely still as the car took its time pulling out. Once it was gone, I glided myself into the parallel parking spot and killed the engine.
--I was far enough from where crazy hair was that I thought it was safe. I threw my hoody on anyway just to disguise myself in case he had gotten a good look at my face. As I pulled the sweater over my grease-stained white collared shirt, I noticed the gash again. I was pissed, but not enough to examine it anymore, so I tucked my head under the hood and walked towards my apartment. I was so excited for the weekend that I almost ran.
--Just a few blocks from my place I could hear feet pounding on the sidewalk behind me. They got louder as I increased my pace. It’s nothing I kept telling myself. No reason to look back. When I sensed that the footsteps were about five feet behind me, I turned around.
--His crazy curly hair bounced as he ran towards me. His eyes were staring directly into mine. I froze for a second, then instinct forced my legs to run. I had spent every off moment from work that day smoking so my lungs felt tight. I wasn’t even watching where I was going, and a car had to break a few inches from my legs as I cut across the street.
--I ran past my place and up Mercer, hoping by the time I got to the bright lights of Broadway he’d leave me alone. The hill was tough and my throat filled with phlegm. I looked back and coughed out a nasty loogie. It didn’t slow him down. When I looked forward again there was a man walking his bulldog with a chain link leash. I split between the two of them and tripped over the chain. The dog whimpered.
--“You fucking asshole,” said a guy with a shaved head. He wore a similar chain link collared to his dog’s.
--“I’m so sorry, but there’s a crazy guy chasing me,” I tried to get up, but my knees were throbbing.
--“I don’t give a fuck. You hurt my dog.”
--“Sorry, little guy,” I said to the dog as I patted its head.
--“Don’t touch my dog,” he said, giving me a slight kick to the gut.
--“I’m sorry, man, but this crazy guy is after me.”
--As I laid there holding my knee, the guy with a shaved head pulled his dog away and walked off. I could see the crazy curls bouncing towards me. I was fucked. He stopped and looked down with his evil eyes.
--“Don’t hurt me, man. I’m not going to tell anybody,” I said, rubbing my knees.
--“Tell anybody what?” A smile crossed his face.
--“You’re right, there’s nothing to tell. I didn’t see anything.”
--“See anything, what are you talking about?”
--“Nothing, man, just leave me alone.”
--“Leave you alone. I was just trying to get your attention.”
--“Why?”
--“I do maintenance over at the Melrose apartments and sometimes I work on the tenant’s cars. Last night I saw someone scratch your car.”
--“What?”
--“Yeah,” he dug into his pocket then pulled out a crumpled receipt. “I wrote down their license plate for you,” he handed me the paper. “Are you alright? You took a nasty fall. Why were you running anyway?”
--“No reason. I just wanted to get some exercise.”
--“You weren’t scared or anything, were you?”
--“No,” I could feel my face turning red with embarrassment. “No, I’m just in a rush to get home.”

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