All I Want for Christmas is an Open Parking Spot

The holidays are often a time filled with hustle and bustle (all wrapped up with a bow and festive, multi-colored lights). There are places to go, things to buy and everyone is often going to the same place (seemingly all at the same exact time) to buy the exact same thing.

When I was around 10 years old, my family set out on a similar journey one weekend leading up to the holidays. With my father driving and my mother seated up front, my brother and I each claimed our favorite spots in the back seat of our car. Our destination was a large and, at the time, relatively new shopping center located in Northeast Philadelphia at the intersection of Roosevelt Boulevard and Haldeman Avenue, about a 20 minute drive from our home.

In addition to a number of small, specialty stores it had a large ShopRite grocery store, a Crazy Eddie appliance store (always a good time) and Caldor, a run-of-the-mill department store chain which has now long since gone out of business. On this particular trip, we were specifically heading to Caldor for some amazing deal my mother had run across in their most recent newspaper circular ad.

The parking lot was, in a word, insane. Trying to find an available parking spot was like unsuccessfully playing a vehicular version of Whac-A-Mole. Even with my brother Steven and me acting as spotters, my father would pull around an aisle of cars just in time to see someone else claim the recently open spot.

This went on for a good 20 minutes when our luck finally changed. After a great deal of pedestrian stalking, we saw someone about to back their car out. My father put on his turn signal indicator and gave the departing vehicle enough space to easily back out and be on their way.

As soon my father placed his foot on the accelerator, a silver Chevrolet Corvette immediately zipped into the spot, with the driver smirking – as if he had just gotten one over on the family that was foolish enough to actually be considerate and wait their turn. My father instantly put on his four-way hazard lights, threw the car into “park” and bounded out of the driver’s seat to have a word with our Corvette driving friend.   

My father was never one to anger or rile easily. He was and still is, unquestionably, one of the most patient and even-keeled people I will have ever known. While at 5’ 10” and 250 lbs. he could be somewhat imposing, he was the pinnacle of playing it cool and using logic and rational thinking to solve any problem or issue. But, like anyone he could also have a temper when sufficiently provoked.

From our vantage point in the backseat, Steven and I could see our father arguing with the Corvette driver but the guy refused to move his car. His girlfriend who was now out of the passenger seat and standing beside the car just waited impatiently. He seemed to actually be laughing, thinking it was all some sort of joke. Knowing that his family was watching the entire scene unfold, my father returned to our car and immediately took us to look for another open spot, seething in anger.

My father was the type of person that when he was angry he didn’t get loud – instead he became silent. And the car became very silent, very fast. Knowing this, our mother did her best to calm him.

Soon enough, we found another available spot and parked. As we entered Caldor, my mother and brother split off to head to the boy’s clothing section. Not having anything specific we needed, my father and I headed off to the sporting goods section to see what Caldor had to offer.

We were perusing camping and outdoor gear when we heard a voice from behind us. The Corvette guy was walking down the aisle toward my father with his hand extended saying, “Hey, no hard feelings, man.” He actually wanted to shake my father’s hand.

I saw my father begin to slowly shake his head as if to say, “No” and, without saying a word, he punched the Corvette guy square in the jaw, easily knocking him backward and onto the ground. The guy stayed on the linoleum floor, obviously stunned by the pain he was now feeling and rubbing his jaw. My father stepped over him and quietly said, “You just shouldn’t have taken the spot… you shouldn’t have taken it.”

Looking back, he gestured for me to take his hand, “Come on, son” and we just walked away. As we made it a little further toward the front of the store, we stopped. “I would prefer it if you didn’t mention this to your mother,” my father intoned.

A few moments later, we met up with my mother and brother. And I simply couldn’t contain what I had just witnessed, “Mom! Steve! That guy in the Corvette who took our parking spot?! Dad laid him out with one punch over in the sporting goods section! Like knocked out, on the floor over there in aisle nine,” I said excitedly.

My mother turned to my father, “You didn’t? Did you?” My father only repeated, “He just shouldn’t have taken the spot.”

For years after that day, which we came to know in our family as “The Caldor Incident” we would often ask if we could take a ride to Caldor whenever we felt the need to add a little excitement to our weekend. Here’s hoping that all future Kaminski holiday seasons are eventful, but maybe not THAT eventful.    

- Scott Kaminski