Lot 34

Reviews

• AA

  Anonymous

  5 days ago
  2.0
  The parking lot was, in many respects, a triumph of modern despair. One entered it the way one enters certain unfortunate mornings before class: cautiously, with low expectations and a vague sense that one’s GPA might somehow worsen before even reaching the building. The asphalt stretched endlessly beneath a sky the color of stale oatmeal, while nearby came the steady thwack of tennis balls, a sound which somehow made the search for parking feel deeply personal. Naturally, the university advertised “ample student parking,” which is a phrase here meaning, “There are theoretically spaces available if one is willing to abandon dignity, punctuality, and perhaps the structural integrity of one’s vehicle.” The painted lines appeared to have been applied during a minor earthquake by someone holding the brush with their feet. Cars occupied spaces diagonally, horizontally, and in one memorable case, spiritually. Somewhere near the tennis fence sat a sedan so ancient and motionless that students spoke of it the way sailors speak of curses. One particularly admired the potholes, which had evolved beyond mere depressions in the pavement and become geographical features deserving their own campus map. A student could disappear into one on the way to economics and emerge several semesters older with opinions about municipal funding. And yet, despite its hazards, the parking lot possessed a certain grim charm. The flickering lamp posts offered all the comforting ambiance of an interrogation room, while exhausted students wandered the rows clutching coffee cups and shattered optimism. Beyond the fence, tennis players volleyed peacefully in spotless white clothing, as though existing in an entirely different tax bracket. The true wonder, however, was the pedestrian experience. Crossing the lot required the instincts of prey animals and the reflexes of a jewel thief. Drivers accelerated toward empty spaces with the serene confidence of people who believed brake lights were merely decorative suggestions. Still, the parking lot performed its function adequately, in the same sense that a parachute composed of napkins technically slows one’s descent. I award it two stars: one for existing, and another because a crow near the tennis courts seemed genuinely happy

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