This is something that's bothered me forever, but it wasn't until my wife and I were expecting our second child that it took our frustrations to a whole 'nother level.

My wife suggested she write this blog for me, to which I said don't worry, because we're both on the same page here. Even though I think she'll be the first to admit that her road rage is way more intense in these situations than me.


So get comfortable everyone, because this is one rant that's long over due. Consider this mine (and my wife's) open letter to anyone who parks, or will park in Rochester's, or any parking ramps.

Dear motorist(s) ahead of me:

What's your problem? Is there a reason you're going so slow? First of all, let me just state the obvious here: It's just a parking space. There's plenty of them here. Hundreds in fact. If there wasn't any available within the ramp, then that bright glowing sign above the entrance would have told you so before you even entered inside to waste your time. Trust me when I say you can drive at a normal, safe pace through the ramp, as your keen eagle eye vision surely won't miss a wide-open parking space once one becomes available. Also, if you're worried you won't find a space until the upper floors, I can assure you it's the same amount of steps no matter what level you park on from your parking space to the elevator. No, no trust me, it is. Plus, if you're one of those people who hate parking on the top floor in fear of the elements playing a role, or maybe you get easily irritated in waiting forever for the elevator to reach the top, there's these things called "stairs" you can walk down to make your journey that much quicker. I can safely say the people cautiously (angrily) driving behind you are just praying to the man upstairs that you seriously just pick a spot so we can all move on with our day.

Now I know what some of you might be thinking: "But Scotty, what about those who may have trouble walking and/or aren't as mobile as you and I?" To that, I say my, nor my wife's beef is not and never will be with them. This letter is to all the lazy and self-absorbed people who think their time is more precious than anyone else's and feel like that 3rd floor parking space HAS to be there, and it's imperative you get it before anyone else snatches it up or you'll be forced to *GASP* park on the 8th floor instead. Stop it.

I think I speak for everyone who's ever white-knuckled their way through any parking ramp and swallowed a string of expletives because children are present when I say "JUST. FREAKING. GO!"

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