It’s Tuesday morning, and I’m on my way to work in my mom’s Toyota Camry.

Normally I’d be in my truck, but a cracked radiator has me in what my family affectionately calls “The Toyota.”

As I enter the parking structure above the police station, I drive by the R1 permit spots. The Student Financial Services office said that they’d begin selling the coveted permits this semester, but when I went to buy one they were apparently sold out.

Yet as I drive by all the empty spots, that seems not to be the case.

But I have more important things to think about as I ascend to the G permit parking spots at the top of the structure, like the car behind me for instance.

Judging by how close it is, the car would rear end me if I had to stop suddenly. The driver must have missed the memo that the speed limit is only about 5 mph in the parking structures on campus.

The annoying person behind me aside, I finally arrive at the three floors of G spots. As I drive by full space after full space, I notice that many cars have an hourly parking pass sitting on their dashes.

I start to question why I even bought an expensive parking permit when the Student Financial Services office is going to sell my spot out from underneath me.

And although each car I pass with an hourly permit versus a parking permit ticks me off more and more, I finally find a spot.

Now I can get out of the Toyota and go to wo – oh, wait.

Just as I begin to open my door, a huge red SUV begins to back into the compact space next to me, completely disregarding the fact that I’m trying to leave.

The driver finally parks and flings open his door, hitting the Toyota.

Not being one for confrontation and already dreading telling my mom, I give the driver a glare to end all glares as he grabs his backpack and leaves.

When I get out of the Toyota and begin walking to the stairs, I check my watch.

Oh great, I’m going to be late for work.

Megan Mann can be reached at [email protected] or @meganisthemann on Twitter.