What you see above is a U-Haul wedged haphazardly between two buildings.
What you don’t see is a driveway. This is because there is no driveway here, but rather a small foot alley intended for pedestrians to walk, not for anyone to drive or park a gigantic truck.
Coming home from work today I was greeted by this sight and quickly realized that I couldn’t get to my own apartment—and more importantly to Honey—because some jabroni thought it prudent to leave his/her moving truck jammed tightly between a pair of apartment buildings (as well as on the sidewalk and in the street as well).
I did what any sane person would do and I looked around for a bit to see if anyone was around to take ownership of the truck and subsequent piss-poor parking job.
Alas, there was nary a soul to be seen.
Naturally, I followed this up by banging on the side of the truck and yelling into the ether for the driver of the truck to come and move the large piece of scrap metal lest I call the authorities to have it physically removed from the premises.
Once again this yielded no response and certainly no rectification of the situation.
So I did what any guy—who doesn’t really want to deal with calling the cops on someone who is likely a neighbor that he’ll have to see every day—would do and I got onto my hands and knees and sorta shimmied under the side mirror and squeezed myself precariously through the six (maybe six-and-a-half) inch gap between the truck and the building.
I then took the above photo and stormed up to my apartment only to find that some delivery guy had propped a 100+ pound box up against my door.
Apparently one of my in-building neighbors ordered a futon. Seriously, a futon. Congrats, bro…that’ll look awesome next your your lava lamp, mini-fridge, and “ironic” Justin Bieber poster.
It’s like the world was conspiring to keep me from my cat! I’m basically Jason Bourne, y’all. This conspiracy goes all the way to the top.
Luckily—just like the aforementioned Jason Bourne—I’m crazy strong and was able to quickly dispatch of the hefty futon (read: I grunted and groaned and cried until I was able to basically tip it over and out of the way) and gain entry to my apartment wherein Honey was super-duper excited to see me.
So yes, this story has a happy ending…but that doesn’t change the fact that some inconsiderate ignoramus basically forced me to crawl on the ground and squeeze my ghetto booty to get by his/her moving truck.
Watch your back moving truck jerk…I’m coming for you.