Parking Lot Purgatory

I’m ringing in the New Year with my very first guest blogger, Steven V. Taylor! Steve’s a musician, writer and record producer, based in Maui. He is currently working on his second novel, a follow-up to the ’90s cult classic  See Ya At The Show, while producing the second album from his band, Flat Jackson. He’s a freaking genius, I steal everything from him, and he’s also my brother, so show some respect or you’ll rile up my over-protective DNA.

If Jesus had a son that went to King Kekaulike High School, his famous biblical quote probably would have read, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is to make a left-hand turn out of the parking lot of King K High School.”

The problem is that King K’s entrance dumps right onto Kula Highway, the main artery going through upcountry Maui. No helpful traffic lights adorn the corner. Left-bound motorists are entirely at the mercy of their fellow man.  During rush hour (yes, “rush hour” exists on Maui. People have jobs here. Mai Tais are not free) everyone is late for everything. Drivers squirm atop stress-induced hemorrhoids, rubbing bumpers in hopes of trimming a few extra seconds off their commutes. The automotive bedlam is further exacerbated by the presence of the high school itself, where caffeinated soccer moms careen through the lines eager to jettison their sycophant teenage cargo.

As you can imagine, making a left into this River of Chaos is next to impossible. In order for the desired maneuver to transpire, both a car on the right and a car on the left must simultaneously recognize the car in need, its ineffectual turn signal flashing pathetically. Yet recognition in and of itself is not enough. The opposing highway travelers have to make actual eye contact, behold the humanity in each other’s souls, and wordless agree that they will both sacrifice precious seconds by stopping in tandem, presenting the wretched left-hander an escape from parking lot purgatory.

Man it sucks to live in Maui. Oh wait, no it doesn’t.

At this point one might believe that no left is ever executed from the parking lot of King K High School. It is easy to assume that exhausted, aggravated, leftward-bound parents eventually give up, squeeze out an unsafe right turn, and just circumnavigate the entire island to reach their destination.

But that’s not what happens.

The stunning, incomprehensible truth is that each day, without fail, this apparently impossible series of events unfolds in a miraculous display of cooperation and self-sacrifice every 30 seconds. Not a single day has gone by wherein I had to wait more than 20 clicks of my turn signal before two saintly individuals take pity on my plight, part the sea of Kula Highway, and grant me passage home.

In a time when my life is inundated with a seemingly endless Cavalcade of Ass Tassels, this small daily miracle restores my faith in humanity. If two strangers, burdened with the stress of kids, traffic and deadlines, can pause long enough to help one of their fellow human beings without thought of compensation, then maybe, just maybe, there is hope for us all.

Miracles pair with: E. Guigal Châteauneuf-Du-Pape 2010. “Châteauneuf-Du-Pape” translates roughly to “The Pope’s New Crib” and was created when Pope Clement V moved the papal digs from Rome to Avignon in 1305. E. Guigal Châteauneuf-Du-Pape 2010 is lighter in color than a typical blood-of-christ red, yet retains an evangelical hue when held to the light. Notes of redemption, transubstantiation and sacrament with a halleluiah finish containing just enough pointy hat to make you feel a few inches taller. Share a couple bottles with your favorite sinners on a Saturday night and I guarantee you’ll have something interesting to talk about in Sunday’s confessional. Amen.