The Day You Were Born - Part 5 - The Art of Good Parking

So after your dad and I left  McDonalds, we headed straight for the hospital.

The hospital we chose to have you at wasn't one that was real close to our house. On a good day it took thirty minutes to get there. On a day filled to the brim with traffic, it could easily take an hour.

Your daddy and I were super nervous about this because along with the thought that there could be lots of traffic on the way to the hospital....it was also Mardi Gras time. This terrified your dad. In his mind, he pictured himself having to be the one who had to deliver you in the car behind a Mardi Gras barcade as the floats went by.

But none of these things were issues on the way to the hospital that night, because there were no parades and no traffic after midnight. There wasn't even anyone on the road.

But because we had all these worries before you were born, we tried a few practice runs to see how fast we could get to the hospital and if your dad could remember how to get there. For some reason he just never could.

On that night, I wasn't worried, because the last few times we went to the hospital your dad had done just fine.

So I settled in my seat and flipped the sun visor mirror down so I could apply some powder, some blush and while I was at it - mascara.  When I finished up I flipped the mirror up and settled back in my seat. And that's when I realized it.

"Wait a minute....where are we?"

And your dad said "Oh I took the  *** exit."

"You took the *** exit?"

"Yep."

"Why would you do that?"

"That's the way we go"

"Um, no it's definitely not."

Yep, in your dad's haste to get us to the hospital, he took the wrong exit completely. And so between three minute contractions I became the GPS woman but with slightly huffier tone until we pulled into the hospital parking lot.

And because it was after midnight we had more than our pick of parking spots.

"That one right there is fine." I said.

"No hold on...." Your dad's eyes scanned for a better parking spot...

There were rows and rows of empty parking spots.

"What about that one?"

"No....." His voice trailed off.

I gave him a real hard look. "What's wrong with that one?" But he ignored me.

"This one, this is the one." He pulled into a spot.

Just as I was about to unlatch my seat belt....he backed the truck up.

And then he pulled it back in.

I went back to unlatching my seat belt......and he backed the truck up again.

And he pulled it right back in again.

I looked at him like he had four heads.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just want to get it straight."

"I'm pretty sure it's straight."

Ham, it could have been parked sideways for all I could have cared, the only thing I was thinking about was you and those hamburgers I couldn't eat.

So we finally got out of the truck. Your dad grabbed my bag and we started to walk across the parking lot. The whole time we were walking your dad kept glancing back at his truck.

"I sorry, I gotta....I'll be right back."

And your dad for Lord only knows what reason ran back over to his truck and backed his truck up and straightened it ...... two more times!

Hammy, I have no idea what in the world that was about but what I did notice was....

"Is that our cheeseburgers...." I pointed down to the ground. Underneath the back wheel of the truck was the remains of our smashed up cheeseburgers.

Before you go thinking that your dad is this big time litterer. I'll just say, I don't think your dad was trying to litter at all. I'm not sure what his intentions were but somehow those cheeseburgers ended up behind the wheel of the truck and were rolled over multiple times as your dad straighten and restraightened and straightened his truck again.

But before I could give it much more thought we decided the truck was a straight as it would ever be and we headed into the hospital.