Thanks to the fine folks at Mini, I’ll never again have to drive around blocks and in endless loops through parking lots, searching for a parking space. That’s because a recent issue of The New Yorker came complete with an “ancient and definitely real parking amulet”: the parking spotus illuminatus.
My mother was the first to discover this valuable tool in her issue of the magazine. She brought it along when we went to a local mall a few days before Christmas. As we approached the full-to-overflowing parking lot, I got out the illuminatus, and we all followed the instructions: We “concentrate[d] to activate the amulet’s definitely real parking powers.”
The instructions continued in a confident yet modest manner, “The Parking Sweet Spot will be revealed. Probably.” And lo and behold, it was! A car pulled out, and we parked about 15 spaces from the mall’s door.
The next day, at the grocery store, I didn’t have my mother’s illuminatus with me, but merely invoking the idea of it was sufficient to do the trick. No sooner had the word “illuminatus” split the air than a car left us a lovely spot.
Today we went to two malls for after-Christmas sales. By this time my husband had discovered our own personal illuminatus, and of course we took it along. We laid it on the dashboard in a position of prominence, and twice it rewarded us with close-in parking.
Strangely enough, my daughter chooses to be cynical, claiming that these wonders are merely “cooincidence” or “luck.” I’m hoping that her negative aura won’t affect our good fortune; after all, the documentation explains that “Cursing the amulet will only summon forth additional fire hydrants and loading zones from parking purgatory.” No, I’m going to do as instructed, “[s]tring [the] amulet with a magic conduit (shoelace or dental floss is fine),” hang it from my rear-view mirror, and keep reaping the mystical benefits of this “Mini gift to big cars.”