Notes from a Man Who Lives to Help Women Parallel Park
I’m not sexist, I’m just trying to help.
I get that it’s the 21st century. I get that you’re a free woman. It’s your prerogative to struggle with parallel parking all day, if that’s what you want. I just don’t know why you would. Especially if I happen to be passing by.
When we first met, you acted like you didn’t want my help. You were backing into that space — the one big enough to fit two mid-sized vehicles. I saw you from afar and immediately started screaming “whoa whoa whoa!” I was trying to stop you before you crashed into the car behind you. You weren’t necessarily close to the car behind you, but I had no clue what the blind spot in that Prius was like, and you were going at a pretty swift clip. If I hadn’t been there to startle you into slamming on the brakes, you may never have stopped.
As soon as you saw me you said, “I’m good, thanks!” But I knew you were just putting on a brave face. I set my six-pack of Corona down on the sidewalk so I could start using two hands to mime the steering wheel. You rolled your eyes and pulled back out of the space. That stung, but I got it. It’s hard to ask for help.
Ready to start from square one together, you began reversing into the space again. I screamed “Crank it to the right!” Which you did pretty well. Credit where credit is due. But then came the hard part. I yelled “Now crank it to the left!” But you didn’t really crank it. Could you not hear me? I shrieked at the top of my lungs “ALL the way to the left!” And then you fucking jerked it. I mean, I’ve never seen a car go that far to the left. I didn’t think it was possible. You must have tilted your axles. In any case, your car was now totally crooked. You cracked your passenger window and said, “I can’t park if you keep screaming.” You clearly needed someone to blame for this hack parking job. I was happy to be that person.
I told you to pull back out.
We did the whole dance again. You started reversing, I started screaming — really fucking loudly this time — and then you slammed on the brakes. Honestly, it looked like you may have hurt yourself. I don’t know why you did that. You were finally in the middle of what looked like a smooth move into your space. I had been shouting “Yep! Yep! Yep!” to encourage your progress. But even encouragement stood in your way! I yelled “Okay, from the top!”
That’s when you leaned out your window and called me a “sexist prick.” Which was weird. Obviously I’m NOT sexist. I’m just trying to help. If I hated women, would I be trying to make them better drivers? No. And besides, I tell guys how to park all the time! Elliott, my wife’s brother, once came into town and he had NO idea how to drive my truck. I mean, no clue. Just no fucking clue. But I only noticed that because I am NOT a sexist. Do I get an extra pep in my step when a woman needs my help? Sure. But that’s just because I’m trying to level the playing field for you ladies. I’m trying to empower you with the knowledge you need to be independent on the road.
Anyway, by this point you had crashed into the vehicle behind you and the one in front of you. It seemed like every time I tried to help, you got into another accident. I screamed louder and louder. Nothing.
I offered to hop in and park it for you, but you told me to “get the fuck out of your face before you call the cops.” Which was crazy. You think I don’t have places to be? I’m not carrying this six-pack to my house. I’m carrying it to my friend Wayne’s new apartment. He’s recently divorced. And honestly? He needs me right now. But that doesn’t mean you don’t also need someone. Someone to hysterically gesture at you from 15 feet away, someone to yell “A little further!” until you hit the car behind you, someone — a stranger — to stick with you, even if it means becoming a witness in several incident reports. Whatever it takes. We all need help sometimes. And whether or not you’re ready to accept it, I’ll be here.
Kelsea Bauman is the associate web producer at Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, and an associate story producer at Wyatt Cenac’s Problem Areas. You can find her on twitter @preachy_spice.
