Yankee Drawl

Posted By jayna on March 16, 2011

I love E’s school. Hands down, undying, absolutely devoted, would send every potential kid there forever and ever kind of love. When we moved here, it just fell into my lap. They don’t advertise, they don’t show up if you search the internet for local preschools, no one knows about them. Just a sign outside of a community center that happens to have a playground and happens to be less than a mile from our house. And yet, the classes are filled and waitlists are miles long. The fact that I got E into a prime slot the week after I called is pure providence.

The area that we live in is, well, rather affluent, to put it simply. As in, consistently ranked #2 place to live in the country and full of real estate prices that are still through the roof. The abundance of snooty rich people around here is obnoxious.

And yet, we love it.

Go figure.

Anyways. Back to school. I have a story in here somewhere. A story involving this awesome, beloved school of ours and the obnoxious, snooty rich people that send their kids there . . .

This is E’s school. A cute little century old stone building, with big fields and nice playground. Also? Ample parking.

This is my favorite parking spot. Out of the way, but right next to the back door. Especially awesome when it’s raining and snowing.

This is where I usually park. A little farther to walk, but no big deal.

This is what it looks like during drop off and pick up.

WTF is something I wonder every single day.

Apparently everyone else is too special for a real parking lot. Instead, blocking the entire drive is perfectly acceptable behavior. Especially when you don’t want to walk too far in your designer workout clothes or stilettos.

Because, honestly, those extra ten feet are killer.

Normally, I quietly stew about it, glaring as I pass these Super Special People getting in and out of their cars. Yesterday, however, was a wee bit of a different story. Getting in early, I snagged my favorite parking spot. MJ and I climbed out of the car as the parking lot started to fill up. As we walked up the drive to the front of the building, a fancy, schmancy, blinged-out, red SUV screeched into the lot and pulled into a “parking spot”.

Smack dab in the middle of the driveway.

Quiet, passive, little ole me finally grew a backbone.

“Hey! Lady! That isn’t a parking spot. What do you think you’re doing, blocking everybody else in? You’re in the middle of the road!”

Mrs. Super Special Person slowly turned her head to look in my general direction and impatiently huffed “Whatever. I’m not going to be here forever. Relax.” And then she turned on her sky-high stiletto-ed heels and stalked into the building, flouncing as only a Super Special Person can.

Seething, I followed her into the building. As I passed her in the hallway I went back to my passive ways and made a comment to MJ in my arms about not having to hurry since we couldn’t get out of the parking lot anyways.

She glared.

I glared.

One by one the classroom doors opened and parents were free to pick up their children. I was greeted by a bouncing and cheerful E and we all headed back out to the parking lot. On the way, we passed the Super Special Person, still waiting for her child’s classroom to open the door.

She glared.

I glared.

E and MJ skipped obliviously toward to door.

15 minutes later – FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER – as we stood on the playground, stomachs growling for lunch, and waited to be sprung from the parking lot, Mrs. Super Special Person came meandering out of the building. She s l o o o w l y put her kid in the car, s l o o o w l y put her purse in the passenger side and then s l o o o w l y walked around the the driver’s side. Standing a good 20 feet away from E & MJ, with not another child in sight, I called out to her.

It wasn’t nice.

Nor was it playground appropriate.

But it sure did make me feel better.

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