A Lucky Spot

I smiled at the man as I rushed down 15th St., late as usual, whistling. He stood by his car, paced a bit back and forth, ready to burst.

I slowed as he began to speak to me. "I got it, right away, for the first time!" he said excitedly as he gestured at his car. His enthusiasm was infectious. I had to stop.

"Got what?" I asked.

"A parking space! Right here! Right where I want to park! Without driving around for half an hour!"

I laughed. Only in New York would such a thing be met by such excitement, such glee, would such a thing as a good parking space be the thing you needed to flag down a stranger to share. There was only one thing to do. Despite running late, I had to give Jim Green a gold star. I mean, day in and day out, the man has set out hopefully to find the perfect spot.

He has been patient, but patience begins to wear thin without reward. And then one day, one fine day, his dream comes true: he glides in to the perfect spot without even a second thought, without worry or a search. Such luck must have been divined, otherworldly, worthy--of course--of a star.

Mr. Green put the star right on his lucky car and posed for a pic. He had time to spare to get to his job as a coach at Prospect Park Tennis Center a few blocks away, through the park.