This is an event that deserves a journal. It made my day.

Lately, with the onset of college and therefore this insane amount of free time, I've been volunteering with my mother at the Smithsonian Institution. She's the Assistant Scientific Diving Officer at Natural History (I'm sure I've said that before, but I actually remember the title this time, and it's relevant), which means when I help out I get to do all the work that neither she nor her boss wants to do. Namely, if they need something scanned, I scan it, if they need emails found, I find them, if they need someone to drive a car back to the Air and Space parking garage so they can go pick up their giant Dive Van (used for lugging equipment and divers around) from the Zoo where it's been getting maintenance done...

Well, I drive. This usually sounds like a simple task. Mom drives us both over to the Zoo on our way in, she picks up the van, I follow her back, we both park in the parking garage beneath the Air and Space Museum (NASM, for simplicity) and go to her office to do work. But no, apparently that's not allowed. Things have to be complicated.

The car-switch works pretty well, and aside from nearly being sideswiped by an asshole in a Hummer the drive to NASM goes without incident. We get to the parking garage, I get the little pass that tells me where to park and tells others I'm allowed to park there, and see that I have spot #3.

A little bit about the NASM parking garage: spaces... Oh, 1-7 are pretty much in everyone's way. The way that the garage is organised, they're directly in front of anyone leaving or entering the garage, and because there isn't much room for turning there it usually takes a bit to get into a space. This isn't so bad if it's late in the day, but the spots are a bitch to get out of and in a big car like Mom's doesn't like those tiny spaces. So the fact that I have spot #3 is rather annoying.

On top of all this, some giant truck is in the spot next to me, and he parked on the line. And on the other side of the space is a giant cement column. I roll my eyes, and begin my ill-fated attempt to park.

First thing, a car comes up behind me, waiting to enter the garage. Now, usually whoever's waiting is pretty good-natured, at least at SI, but the pressure's still there. You never know who's in the car, and it's always embarrassing to have someone watch you take forever to park. And I am taking forever, trying to line up the front of the car juuuust right so I don't thwack the mirror on the column or the car in the space on the other side. By my second reverse-drive-reverse cycle, there's another car waiting to leave the garage. I'm not even perpendicular to the road yet, but I'm blocking both lanes and it's embarrassing as hell.

So I try to pull forward. The mirror hits the cement column, I swear loudly with nobody around to hear it, and that's when I see the flashing lights.

I'm in a parking garage. So it took me a moment to place why there would be a series of dark-windowed vans and cop cars with flashing lights. And then it hits me; it's a freakin' motorcade. (Later, upon asking the wonderful lady in the parking office, I'd find out that VP Joe Biden's wife had decided to visit the museum, and had apparently decided to leave upon my arrival.)

I've got two cars and a motorcade waiting for me to park, the window would have snapped off if not for the lovely flip-back safety feature for such an occasion, and on top of all that I'm not even sure the car will fit.

Now, I'm a secular Jew. This means that, while Jewish in heritage, I do not believe in any sort of higher power. But God did not want me in that parking space.

It was easier to pull away from the parking space and use one of the unmarked spaces in the back.