I’m late. I scan across the endless sea of parked cars and exhale.

What now? I’ve spent the past 15 minutes inching along the Lloyd, traveling less than five miles per hour. Stop. Ease off the brake. Stop again. Repeat.

Now, I’m finally here and hopes of a decent parking spot are extinguished. I turn into the first lane… nada.

Left turn, another left turn, and I’m now in the second lane. I see an empty space, my heart leaps and I step on it. I’m ready to crash into anyone who tries to steal my spot. If I can’t have it, neither can they.

I approach, flick my turning signal and then… disappointment. It’s occupied by a small car, pushed against the curb, concealed by a bigger vehicle.

No vacancy…jerks. I continue my search, passing drivers furiously glance side to side for a vacant lot. My wheels creak and groan with each turn, begging for rest.

I rub my dashboard. “I know, I know,” I whisper soothingly. I finally claim a spot all the way in the back, furthest from campus. I don’t have a decal, but the ticket will be worth the spot.

I glance at my watch: 30 minutes… I have just spent 30 looking for a space. Awesome. As I walk across the paved Sahara, I wonder if they will build bigger lots with the growing enrollment.

Maybe they will limit the number of cars they register. Or perhaps they will just post no vacancy signs along the parking lots. Either way you look at it, this sucks.

We’d better sign-up for early classes, otherwise we will be thumbing through “No Vacancy” signs and burning our gas looking for a spot that isn’t there.