A parking lot, packed full of meaning as well as cars, exudes confidence and a shrewd sense of economy. One false decision, and this precise configuration dissolves into an ugly interpersonal and logistical snarl. But my guess is that all the relations implied here are customary: one person—a very experienced and trusted person—parks all these cars, for the same group of people who park here each day. The attendant knows thoroughly all their schedules and stories, the invisible yarn of the creation he weaves each day. For that, he is valued, and for that his customers readily pay him in cold hard cash.
Sadly, these lots are vanishing, their attendants replaced by machines. Available parking is reduced, and a measure of color goes out of the day. Have you ever parked in such a lot, or gotten to know a Chicago valet?
Harley says
My gosh, what a picture of an amazingly full parking lot! Nope, not too many lots like that in downtown any more. However, parking near Wrigley Field and the White Sox park are similar. . . . I think a few times I have parked in a lot like that on Wacker Dr.
Celia says
I agree, Harley; there aren’t too many such surface lots left downtown, and those that are typically aren’t as tight-packed as this. The economics of the lots are punishing because of the high property tax values (though my husband reminds me that because of the cash flowing in, they remain a coveted sort of property). And you’re right about the tiny lots around the baseball fields; they wedge the cars in much like this. . . . Wonder if you could even obtain a permit to open a new surface lot in the business district now. . . .