Being able to park on-campus is a long-awaited senior privilege, and just like the countless senior classes before us, we respectfully waited our turn. I’ve spent the past three years sitting through the grueling drop-off line traffic as the clock rapidly ticks past 7:37 a.m., sitting awkwardly next to my livid mother as she admonishes me for exceeding five tardies. Enduring pre- and post-school traffic is a right of passage that makes the perk of senior parking significantly sweeter, yet many underclassmen and their parents are not getting the memo; you and your kid have to wait just like the rest of us did.

The senior parking lot is already in a constant state of chaos, and adding ruthless parents breaking school policy by dropping off in the senior lot into the mix only makes matters worse; the cutthroat nature seemingly extends from ages 17 to 50.  In fact, every morning I am greeted with a middle-aged woman nearly running me over as she barrels through the lot so she can simultaneously avoid morning traffic and save her child from attendance’s wrath. Even the walk from my car to the entrance doors has become a warzone as I dodge minivans and freshmen like bullets. 

Unfortunately, this parent apocalypse is not limited to the morning frenzy, for seniors frantically trying to beat the buses after school are unable to squeeze past parents clogging up the senior lot. I witness parents shamelessly park in the center of the chaos just to avoid waiting on the pick-up line designated for them. As a result of the increased traffic, students become even more ruthless and stingy with the amount of people they let in, elevating the risk of an accident. 

To combat this issue, I have made it my mission to be as petty as possible when I spy a parent blatantly invading the senior lot. Whether it’s throwing my hands in the air in annoyance, making sure they can’t merge into the left lane in time to turn into the senior lot or being a little extra dramatic when they stop short to avoid knocking me off my feet as I walk toward the entrance, I try my best to make it known they are unwelcome. 

Am I being overdramatic? Probably. But when I’m racing against the clock and Karen is parked in the middle of the lot, blocking my spot, I think I am justified in showing my discontent. After all, it’s called the SENIOR parking lot for a reason.