Stuck
Apologies for my lack of blogging, I've been super busy. Which is why being stuck in a shopping centre carpark for two hours today was quite an inconvenient waste of my time.
I went to a hideous soul zapping monolith otherwise known as Westfield Burwood to do some shopping. As one does. I parked, did said shopping amongst crowds of pushy people with strollers and packs of teenagers in short shorts chewing gum and saying "omigawd" constantly, and then returned to my vehicle. On my return, I noticed the massive traffic jam that seemed to be clogging the entire five storeys of the carpark. I couldn't reverse out of my park because of said jam, so took the opportunity to make a couple of phone calls for work and to my mum to prattle on. 45 minutes later (my mum talks more than I do), and I was still stuck in my park (oh my editor would roast me for starting a sentence with a number, oh well). So 15 minutes later I decided to go back and do more shopping. The car I had my eye on as an indicator for the expediency of carpark exiting had only moved about 10 metres in an hour. I had forgotten to buy museli you see. That took an additional half hour, so I returned to the car to find myself still stuck. Luckily a kind driver let me reverse out and join the queue snaking towards the exit. Another half hour later and I was out. What an ordeal. I still don't know what caused the jam, but it was incredibly frustrating, and a Westfields carpark wasn't where I wanted to spend the afternoon.
One thing though that was interesting to observe was that just like copious amounts of alcohol, being stuck in a shopping centre carpark reveals people's true colours. Just like the lovey dovey drunk, those people who normally feel compelled to hide their friendliness behind an apathetic Sydney mask (best used on public transport) suddenly strike up conversations about the traffic and the weather and the state election, while those people who after a bottle of bourbon begin punching walls begin punching walls, or swear loudly in the presence of small children, or beep their horns even though it will clearly not produce any sort of outcome. Interesting indeed. Perhaps the most curious behavior was those that got out and tried to look over the sides of the carpark to see what was causing the chaos when there is no view at all of the road below from the carpark. Or one man, who got out and started polishing the fittings on his car with a tissue and a bottle of water... even though the weather was drizzly.
I went to a hideous soul zapping monolith otherwise known as Westfield Burwood to do some shopping. As one does. I parked, did said shopping amongst crowds of pushy people with strollers and packs of teenagers in short shorts chewing gum and saying "omigawd" constantly, and then returned to my vehicle. On my return, I noticed the massive traffic jam that seemed to be clogging the entire five storeys of the carpark. I couldn't reverse out of my park because of said jam, so took the opportunity to make a couple of phone calls for work and to my mum to prattle on. 45 minutes later (my mum talks more than I do), and I was still stuck in my park (oh my editor would roast me for starting a sentence with a number, oh well). So 15 minutes later I decided to go back and do more shopping. The car I had my eye on as an indicator for the expediency of carpark exiting had only moved about 10 metres in an hour. I had forgotten to buy museli you see. That took an additional half hour, so I returned to the car to find myself still stuck. Luckily a kind driver let me reverse out and join the queue snaking towards the exit. Another half hour later and I was out. What an ordeal. I still don't know what caused the jam, but it was incredibly frustrating, and a Westfields carpark wasn't where I wanted to spend the afternoon.
One thing though that was interesting to observe was that just like copious amounts of alcohol, being stuck in a shopping centre carpark reveals people's true colours. Just like the lovey dovey drunk, those people who normally feel compelled to hide their friendliness behind an apathetic Sydney mask (best used on public transport) suddenly strike up conversations about the traffic and the weather and the state election, while those people who after a bottle of bourbon begin punching walls begin punching walls, or swear loudly in the presence of small children, or beep their horns even though it will clearly not produce any sort of outcome. Interesting indeed. Perhaps the most curious behavior was those that got out and tried to look over the sides of the carpark to see what was causing the chaos when there is no view at all of the road below from the carpark. Or one man, who got out and started polishing the fittings on his car with a tissue and a bottle of water... even though the weather was drizzly.
posted by Ashlee at 10:06:00 pm
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