Men have turned waiting for their wives while they shop, into an art. We pull up, letting them out at the front of the store and then drive away.
We do so with the knowledge that we must return to pick them up.
Unless the pickup time is exact, it becomes an art of finding a parking spot where we can spy upon the front entrance. Like predator or villain in a movie, we choose our parking place, backing into it.
Waiting...
When our spouse emerges we pounce. Lights flick on as the car starts and we zoom out. If we wait to long, then the spouse begins scanning for us.
"Where were you?" Will be the question as she buckles herself in.
For the times when that perfect waiting spot cannot be found, we drive about in a general loop, passing by the entrance.
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