Oh, for that sweet parking spot Rosemary O'Brien Sydney Morning Herald Online January 21, 2008
Not so long ago ecstasy was engendered by having an Aussie tennis player not bundled out before the third round or a chance one-night stand with Brad Pitt. Not any more. Today the catalyst for euphoria is a parking spot.
I used to laugh at the occasional nerd whose comb-over hairstyle and self-satisfied smile over prominent yellow teeth hid his secret - "I've just managed to find the most brilliant parking spot". "So?" I would say scornfully, "we're about to invade another country, Lleyton was beaten in the first round at Wimbledon, John looks like staying in office, and you're carrying on about parking. For goodness sake, get a life."
Oh, how dismissive I was, how tuned out to a problem soon to overtake almost everything else, namely, that cars are increasing in numbers completely disproportionate to the number of parking spaces.
Once, I'd have been considered quite odd had I breezed into a party with the greeting: "Oh, hello Gwendolyne-Maree. I'm so chuffed. You're never going to believe this, but I've managed a park right outside." I'd have stopped the party, all right. I'd probably have been turfed out as being one hell of a bore.
These days, such an announcement will literally stop a party. Envious people will spring from everywhere.
"You're joking. How did you manage that? I'm parked so far away Nathan Deakes couldn't walk it on a good day," they'll say. Or, "I had to park at the next station and catch a train". Such statements are often accompanied by the gloomy admission: "We've had a hell of a blue about the bloody parking, he/she's not talking to me."
I'll smile, satisfied my location skills have been recognised, and for the rest of the night people who would normally ignore me will look ruefully in my direction.
I suppose the feeling of superiority is something akin to that felt by Donald Bradman, or Evonne Goolagong, or, these days, Ricky Ponting (no, scrub that), or Kevin Rudd (or would he toss the keys to Therese?)
All I know is that when I hear a joyous "I got a great one", I am instantly envious of the ecstatic declaration. The prize parking spot has been nabbed from right under my nose. It's right outside and, joy of joys, it's unlimited.