The Pink Shoe Diaries

I have discovered the Dante's 9th circle of hell.

And it doesn't look like this


But really, more like this.


It is the parking garage at the Atrium Mall in Chestnut Hill.

Now, I have never been to this mall before, most of my Chestnut Hill shopping needs can be satisfied at The Mall, but I had earrings to pick up at Tiffany and so to The Atrium I went.

I should have taken the hundreds of cars parked on all the side streets along The Atrium as a sign that perhaps that "free!" parking garage ain't all it's cracked up to be. But I weighed my disinterest in walking half a mile from my spot outside with no coat on, and my trepidation over that cement mass of cars and what can I say, laziness won out.

As I decsended into the bowels of the garage, I was struck first with how many spaces there WOULD have been, if people had deigned to park within the lines. I saw Lexus sedans and BMW convertibles sprawled out lazily among 2 or sometimes 3 spaces. Hummers parked so that their front tires were in the space but the rest of the hulking mass was sticking out several feet, creating intermittent traffic jams as two lanes of cars looking for parking tried to negotiate past.

I learned that people with MD plates evidently think it's okay to drive on the wrong side of the road to bypass a line of cars waiting for a Minivan to realize he can't fit in a compact car space.

But as time wore on, and my frustration grew, I knew that MD had the right idea. It was park or be parked on in that garage, and my impatience was wearing thin.

A full twenty minutes after I entered the garage, I saw a space several feet ahead and basically gunned it/hurled myself into the space. When I got out I realized that my passenger side was VERY close to the Bronco parked next to me. I mean like 6 inches away.

But you know what, that Bronco was parked about a foot over the line whereas I fit compactly in my space, and further more that side of my car is already dented. So I said "Fuck it" and decided that the damage he did to his drivers side door trying to get in was worth whatever ding it caused my car.

Sick, right? This is what parking at the Atrium mall does to me.

As luck would have it I had parked several floors directly below Tiffany (I did mention I was in the ninth circle of hell, right?). So after several escalator rides I was out of the fire and into heaven, relaxing among the brightly lit glass paned exhibits of incredible jewelery while angels wearing sterling silver floated around, offering drinks and advice.

Sigh.

But after I purchased my earrings it was down down down to my parking spot in hell, and another 20 minutes trying to get out of the garage , negotiating drivers going the wrong way down one-ways, blocking traffic, pedestrians on their cell phones ambling leisurely between speeding and screeching cars, swinging their Ann Taylor bags.

I tell you, when I pulled out of that cement madness and into the cold night air, I was never happier to see Route 9 in my LIFE.