The Patron Saint of Parking Spaces

I like dancing, and dancing in the city, you get to meet a lot of interesting people. Most of the people I know these days are either (directly or indirectly) through dancing, or because I'm related to them. There are a few other people I know, I guess, like the ones that I went to school with. But mostly I know people from dancing.

And most of the people I know are rather, how do you say it... odd. I used to be the 'normal' one of the group in many ways, which is somewhat sad. It's never good to be normal, 'cause normal is boring, normal isn't noticed, normal just is. It's so much more fun and interesting to be odd. So I like the people that I know. But there's a certain kind of odd that's good, and a certain kind that's..not.

I like dancing. And this past weekend, I went dancing again. I do so decently often. Much too often on the weekends, considering the time requirement to actually drive up to the city and back, so I don't go as often as I could. But, for a couple of really good reasons that I don't believe I will go into here, I went dancing this weekend and had a marvelous time.

Even if I did end up meeting one of those bad-odd types of people.

I even asked the passengers in my car if they'd prefer that I park elsewhere, but they were willing to brave the creepy old guy. I hadn't noticed him until I'd already started parking, and so I didn't ask until parking was done, so they may have just not felt like making me parallel park again. But they should have, they could have, he was creepy.

I literally didn't see him until I was halfway through with my parking job. Pulling over into my parking space, I look out the passenger window, and there's this man, standing on my parking space. A couple of inches from my car. And I'm about to run into him. He obviously knows that I'm there, though, as he wasn't there when I started to park. And he was apparently trying to help me get into the space. Which is just odd, when you're doing a decent-enough job all by yourself.

But I parked, successfully. And my passengers didn't badly want me to move, so I got out, only to be waylaid as this creepy old guy tried to give me a lesson on parallel parking. I suppose he must have had a car at some point in his life.

And I still wonder, where did this creepy old guy come from? He wasn't there, he wasn't there, *poof* there he was. Two inches from my car, and about to be run over.

Do I have a homeless guardian angel, who only appears when I don't actually need help parking? Where was he when I had to park my mother's van?!