World record for most cars in one place broken at AGHS

The place of imprisonment (Parking lot)

Dixon Smith

The place of imprisonment (Parking lot)

At 7:20 this morning and every morning every school day before it, the world record for the most cars packed into a single parking lot of barely capable student drivers and frustrated parents is broken at Arroyo Grande High School.

It’s the ingenuity of our student body and their innovation of driving methods, such as driving in the bike lane and tailgating other drivers, that makes our school especially adept at packing in cars like sardines. 

Certain things are promised in life: Death, Taxes, and if you attend AGHS, getting pooped on by seagulls and living long enough to become the villain in this feast or famine (tailgate or get cut-off), cutthroat society of a parking lot students are forced to navigate.

Foolishly expecting to progress after not cutting off other drivers and respectfully waiting your turn, you may notice certain symptoms start to develop such as frustration, hallucination, cynicism, nihilism, and aggression. These symptoms amplify as the time of day approaches 7:47 and you realize you only have 3 minutes left to get to class.

Salvation, a scarcity in the front lot, can be found by honking your horn after parking, and receiving 243 car honks back in a tidal wave of glory as you are one of few to have found a spot within 300 yards of the front office.

All of your willpower consumed, and deceitful promises of relief flooding your mind, you are soon reminded of the next threat to your civility and sanity.

Just when you thought the nightmare was finally over, by 2:55 pm you must try to leave campus. 

You are encompassed by other vehicles instantaneously, restrained, gagged, and held hostage by a minivan with a student driver switching seats with their mother, who peels out in order to cut off the school’s resource officer to get to their second driving lesson.

The Devil’s Contract (Front page of the Parking Permit Application form) (Dixon Smith)

The devil whispers into your ear. A contract. A resignation of your civility and respect for traffic laws, common courtesy, and safety. You pay the butcher’s bill in blood to make a left turn out of the parking lot during school hours.

Lightning shakes the earth as you do so, thunder roaring and car alarms screaming. You can hear the voice of your God promising punishment for your disobedience. Or maybe it was just the voice of a parent yelling at their kid to hit the brakes before they hit a parked car.

The school’s capacity for vehicles continues to impress scientists. A high school parking lot is an anomaly in the fabric of space and reality under the careful supervision of government officials. 

I’d tell you more, but the bell just rang, and I need to sprint to my car ahead of all the other sardines, so that I can get to my 6 PM shift in the village on time.