See? It's NOT just me, dammit!

I admit it. I'm nitpicky. I pick at nits. My OCD is set to eleven. Being a slave to my own preferences for having things just-so has cost me friends, relationships, and many a delicious meal at a local eatery. My cross is heavy, but I bear it well, and you must admit, the wood is wonderfully polished and thumbprint-free.

And I am not alone.

At least, not in all things. I might be the only one who gets physically nauseous when the Idiot In Front Of Me doesn't pull far enough ahead at the drive-thru to give me ample room to be face-to-speaker when I come up. I stand alone in my belief that a person over the age of 60 shouldn't comment on my vegetable selection at the check-out counter at Publix. And I dare say I am the only person at my workplace who has a problem with the concept of talking at the top of your lungs with your fellow salesman in the bathroom while someone (me) is trying to take a quick dump.

But when it comes to parking, it looks like I have found a comrade.

Let me set the scene:

The building I work in isn't as crowded as it used to be. I'm in a 5-story behemoth that can accommodate approximately 1600 persons at a time, according to the information in the janitor's closet (don't ask, I drink a lot, okay?)... currently I estimate there are only about 200 employees scuttling about in the four separate businesses occupying the property. It's big and it's pretty empty, and I like it that way just fine.

The layout of the parking lot is a sight to behold. Aside from the spaces right against the edge of the building, there is no such thing as a "close spot". Oh, it LOOKS close when you are parking 20 yards from the smoking area... but you have to work your way around 30 additional yards of shrubbery and ornamental mulch in order to actually get to the door. It's annoying, but tolerable, to a degree, because as empty as the building tends to be, it means there is ample parking as long as you don't mind getting mulchy once and a while.

With so much parking space, you'd think that everyone would know about "the empty parking lot rules".

The Empty Parking Lot Rules are not sacred, and they aren't as revered in song and legend as, say, the Bro's Before Ho's Rules... but they are still pretty much self- evident. You KNOW when you are violating them, even if you have never seen them listed out.

Here's an abridged list of some very well-respected Parking Lot Rules:

1- If you are over 200 pounds and you are walking to/from your car through a parking lot, move the fuck over, because people are trying to drive past you.

2- If you are headed back to your car with packages at Christmas and a car is following close behind you, it is your job to let them know if you are leaving, or if you are just dropping off our load of packages and meeting Your Lovely Wife™ for an Orange Julius. That way they don't follow, at a CRAWL, watch you dump your stuff, then wait until you go back in the building so they can key your car.

3- Anyone who thinks their car is so important that they need to park SIDEWAYS across TWO OR MORE spaces is just asking for a broken tail light. Seriously. I mean it, unless your fucking car is dipped in gold and the Dali Lama is in the back seat waiting for his slice of Sbarro, don't park like a fucking retard.

And the most important Parking Lot Rule ever?

4- When there is ample space in a big, empty lot... SPREAD THE HELL OUT.

It's really annoying when you don't. I can't tell you why. But look at any lot at the mall on a Tuesday afternoon in Spring and tell me you don't see the pattern: Up close to the doors? Lots of clusters of cars, in space after space... but the further out one goes, the more space opens up between cars. By the time you get to the Logan's it's a desert of asphalt. It's the way that God intended things.

In the miasma of strange and difficult-to-access parking zones at my building, a handful of employees have taken to a semi-empty patch of concrete on the East side of the place that I like to call East Jesus.

Up until 2 weeks ago, only 4 cars have found a permanent place in good 'ol East Jesus. And we have all lived in harmony, faithfully obeying Fourth Law Of Parking Lots... we have spread out. Sure, we all want to park as close to the door as possible, but we still know the rule, and each car has courteously left a parking space open on either side of each other. And sure, we trade off actual SPOTS from day to day, depending on who shows up on time and who doesn't, but the entire mood has been friendly and accommodating to each other. It's a fine system! See:

What I mean to say is- This WAS a fine system. Until a week ago. When THE RED CAR showed up.

THE RED CAR has been seen before. It has been closer to the door in other parts of the lot, but for the past few days, THE RED CAR has taken up residence in East Jesus. And all hell has broken loose.

THE RED CAR has started parking next to other cars. We are in the middle of nowhere and THE RED CAR wants to snuggle. We don't even know who THE RED CAR belongs to, but that doesn't deter it from abandoning all reasonable etiquette and parking it's ass right next to the other cars in East Jesus.

What does this mean for the rest of us? It means we have to over-compensate and park even further from the building, which wouldn't be such a hassle except that it is, goddammit. And it's all THE RED CAR's fault. It shows up and fucks up the whole layout of cars by parking itself right NEXT to other cars in an empty part of the lot.

And all this would mean nothing, other than being of minor annoyance to me, if it weren't for what I just saw on my way back in from lunch today.

See, as much as I complain and nitpick, I'm a realist. I know that these things really only bug me, and if I complain about things on my little bloggity-doo, I can usually cope. I assumed that the existence of the touchy-feely RED CAR would be something only I would have trouble with, and that it would never even escalate to becoming a blog-worthy consideration.

But then I discovered something wonderful, something as delightful as discovering that your brand new college roommate also digs The Housemartins or that your mail-order bride is also into light bondage.

I discovered a fellow East Jesus resident ALSO has a problem with THE RED CAR.

Getting out of my car after lunch (3 spaces down from where I would normally park, thanks to that crimson bastard) I noticed a piece of paper was attached to THE RED CAR's wiper blade, flapping in the breeze.

Curiosity overtook me and I wandered over to the windshield to see what it was.

Someone left our scarlet offender a message. And as God as my witness, I could not have invented such a wonderful note if I tried.

It was just a simple piece of paper with black Sharpie and it read, in block letters:

HI, NICE CAR, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP PARKING OUT HERE LIKE AN ASSHOLE? THANKS!

Thank you. Thank you, fellow Parking Lot Rules Abider.

I am not alone.