become? If a friend tries to setme up on a blind date and says that “Larry” is an accountant, not only do I immediately pic- ture a stiff figure with no personality, I refuse tomeet him. We create labels and miss the details of the true essence
of the person. The same thing happens in the documentary, yet Eckman shows us that labels and conventions don’t apply here. The fellows who work for Chris are the most entertain- ing and poignant attendants one could imagine. The parking lot charges $1.50 an hour for the first three
hours. I would gladly spend $4.50 to hang out with those “priests of theMayan temple” and listen to a good song, see a dance or hear a story about howmessed up we all truly are. Watching themparade in orange cones, build a cardboard
addition to their little hut office, write parking poetry on the walls of that hut or stencil “Molly Shannon” on the numerous, often broken, gates, would be a fun afternoon. Perhaps I could even get an answer to the question that
one of themasks: “What kind of a person would have enough money to buy a fancy car and put gas in it but wouldn’t want to pay 40 cents for parking?”Or I could ponder thewriting on the walls: “What if Rosa Parks drove a car?” These philosophers, poets,musicians and anthropologists
(those in particular make the best employees of this parking lot, says owner Chris) are not your typical parking lot atten- dants. And the bottom line is that Eckman’s film isn’t, in essence, about parking. Her documentary is about life. Yes, it is the existential piece. In this day and age, when
we are going through tough economic times, when jobs are scarce, the division between those who can afford a Fer- rari (what a blasphemy to have a sports car that is an automat- ic) or that new Prius covered with hemp stickers is less than we think. Perhaps afterwatching thismovie we can ask ourselves a
question:What is it all about? Is the customer always right even at a cost of that customer being a sanctimonious jerk? Can we stop judging the book by its cover and let Larry the accountant be himself instead of a platitude? Can we simply start saying thank you and please, and
honor and respect the barista that serves our daily coffee or the dude who dispenses our parking ticket? Can we see the person behind a job and value his humanity? Can we bring civility back? Chris, the owner, says that “this is just a parking lot.”Yet,
“The Parking LotMovie” is so much more. It isn’t just about fitting my Hummer into that compact parking space. It is a slice of life. It isn’t just about “Seeing my world in Black and White,” as attendantMark sings. Yes, “God will hand out the Sword of Justice,” as noted
in the closing
credits.And songwriterMark ought to know. He’s in law school now to make sure that in the future, if we smash the gates of civility and stop respecting people for their basic work, be it parking or dishwashing, we will pay up. Not just $12 for a day after 5 p.m. But pay up with karma. Hopefully Eckman’s documentary can, in the words of
one parking attendant, “teach us howto be human beings” and revive the engines of our parked (for too long) “civility” into a high gear of human kindness. Perhaps even Mr. Jefferson would find it at least promising.
Astrid Ambroziak is a writer, philosopher and SUV driver living in Los Angeles. She can be reached at
astrid@parkingtoday.com.
PT
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