Welcome back, folks, to The Clam’s Tournament of Awful Parking Lots! We’ve been through 3 rounds so far and the finalists will face off today to crown a winner. EXCITING SORTA.
The Final Battle: 7/11 Bass Ave vs Destino’s
It’s been a thrill a minute at this here Tournament of Shitty Parking Lots. 14 other lots have gone home, defeated. And today through Monday, YOU will get to choose the final winner. We trust you, loyal Clam readers, so don’t fuck this up. Pressure’s on.
7/11 Bass Ave was last week’s semifinalist winner, taking out the awful hitch-dragging awkward-angled drunk-yelling Dogbar Lot. Let’s face it – it takes a real beast to deliver the knockout punch to the fucking DOGBAR lot. But 7/11 Bass Ave has been the little lot that could, and it has powered its way to the Clam Finals.
7/11 is entirely worthy of the Ultimate Shitty Parking Lot title. It’s the kind of place where you enter in a good mood, buy your munchies, tell the clerk to enjoy her night, and by the time you’ve actually successfully re-entered traffic, you’re angry, bewildered, and unable to safely rejoin society. Trying to back into a blind curve of fast-moving mostly tourist traffic brings out the feral beasts within ourselves.
Destino’s, as well, is worthy of the title. I don’t want to disparage Destino’s. The food is great, portions are huge, it’s cheap, and have I mentioned how goddamned amazing the pasta salad is? I would literally shovel a quart of it in my face upon waking up every morning if that was an option presented to me. Just typing that made my mouth water and my brow furrow. I don’t want anyone thinking I don’t like Destino’s. But, the lot. Oh, the lot.
Exiting Destino’s onto Prospect Street is another one of those animalistic lizard-brain activities that snap us back to the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush our ancestors perfected. The constant spectre of death looms over you, and even the belly full of chicken parm won’t lull you into any sense of security. No, no. You’d better hope some methed-out twentysomething lad with a Dodge Neon blasting Eminem doesn’t come whizzing around the corner, or you’re fucking dead.
And the damn parking lot. Paint lines! Please god, paint lines, or the old people in LeSabres (Deluxe Trim, naturally) will continue to park halfway between two spots. For my birthday, all I want is Destino’s to paint lines in their lot.