Pregnant in a Parking Lot by Katiedid Langrock on Creators.com

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Pregnant in a Parking Lot

"People are so nice to you when you're pregnant. They give you the best parking spots. You always get the benefit of the doubt and stock up on free stuff. And you get total permission to act like a crazy, crying freak. You'll see."

To all of my friends who promised I'd find myself sashaying down the lollipop-lined road to maternity, with waving, smiling strangers and a mariachi band intuitively meeting my every need, I have one thing to say to you:

Liars!

Case in point: I recently visited a prenatal clinic during my lunch break. If history had taught me anything, I should've known I was playing with fire. But I'm pregnant. Aren't cars on traffic-jammed highways supposed to part like the Red Sea? Aren't red lights supposed to give me a wink and turn to green just for the heck of it?

Pulling in to the parking lot, I was already running late. I asked the ticket booth operator whether there were any mom-to-be parking spots near the front. He said they were filled. One spot was being used as storage for golf carts. A man on a motorcycle had parked in the other spot.

"Which trimester is the motorcyclist in?" I asked the ticket operator.

He didn't laugh. He just explained that the lot was so full I needed to pull in behind someone and leave my keys in the car in case he needed to move the vehicle.

I parked my Jeep and was in and out of my checkup in 15 minutes. Plenty of time to get back to work. Or so I thought.

Searching for my keys, I quickly realized I'd locked them in my car. Luckily, I own a soft-top Jeep, and (having locked my keys in my car before) I knew all I had to do was unzip the back window, hoist my body up and crawl through. One small hiccup in the plan, though: I wasn't pregnant when I had done this before.

A couple of things became very clear to me very quickly. 1) Hoisting up your body while pregnant is not that easy. 2) Tiny triangular windows are not made for pregnant chicks to squeeze their little meatball bodies through.

I'd never had trouble breaking in to my own car before, but between the lifting and the squeezing, I could not get through the window.

Passers-by on the street stopped and stared.

There were no offers of help. There was just staring. A few of them crossed their arms and shook their heads disapprovingly.

"I could use some help," I yelled over to them. "I locked my keys in the car."

"Sure ya did," a guy yelled back. "Enjoy having your baby in jail."

That's when I realized they thought I was breaking in to a stranger's car! Who thinks a pregnant lady would put forth this much effort to steal a car in the middle of the day?! Don't they know we just want to eat and sleep?

Motivated by my need to get back to work and by my fear of cops, I mustered enough energy to hoist my pregnant butt up and through the window. I grabbed the keys off the passenger seat and pulled my Jeep around to the ticket booth, only to find out that I didn't have enough money for my parking ticket.

"I would have enough money, but I was locked out and stuck here for an extra 10 minutes," I explained. The ticket operator didn't care.

I started rummaging through my car, finding any change I could. When I handed over the change, he said: "It's been another five minutes. You owe me another 50 cents."

"But I spent those five minutes looking for change. You watched me do it."

"Another 50 cents."

That's when I started to panic. And by panic, I mean cry. I didn't have the money; I was going to be late for work, and the mean man still was staring at me from across the street, probably laughing at the irony of there being a car thief who couldn't afford to leave the parking lot from which she stole the car.

"Ugh, there's nothing more clichéd than a pregnant woman crying," said the operator.

I finally got back to work 20 minutes late.

Blanche DuBois may always depend on the kindness of strangers, but that little nut job wasn't preggers.

To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.