Tyler pulled his silver Honda into the parking spot, letting out a deep breath. Twenty-two years old, new city, new apartment. Fresh start.
He’d barely turned off the engine when he heard shouting.
A man in his mid-fifties burst through the building’s front door, face already red, moving faster than someone his size should. “HEY! THAT’S MY SPOT!”
Tyler got out slowly, confused. “Sorry, what?”
“That parking spot! I’ve been parking there for TWENTY YEARS!” The man’s voice cracked with fury.
Tyler looked around. No painted numbers. No reserved signs. Just a regular public street. “Sir, this is public parking. There’s no assigned spots.”
“I DON’T CARE!” The man was shaking now, pulling out his phone. “I’m calling the cops. And a tow truck!”
“For what?” Tyler asked, genuinely baffled.
“Illegal parking! You can’t just TAKE someone’s spot!”
Tyler watched as the older man—Greg, he’d later learn—dialed with trembling fingers. “Yes, police? There’s an illegally parked vehicle blocking my spot…”
A patrol car arrived fifteen minutes later. Officer Martinez stepped out, looking tired.
Greg rushed over. “Officer, this kid just stole my parking spot! I’ve been parking here for twenty years!”
“Sir, is this your assigned spot?” Martinez asked.
“It’s MY spot! I’ve always parked here!”
Martinez turned to Tyler. “License and registration?”
Tyler handed them over. Martinez checked the parking signs, walked the perimeter, consulted his notes.
“Mr. Patterson,” Martinez said to Greg, “this is public parking. No assigned spots. First come, first served.”
Greg’s face went from red to purple. “But I’ve ALWAYS parked here!”
“That doesn’t give you ownership rights.” Martinez pulled out his citation book. “And calling in a false emergency is a $500 fine.”
“WHAT?!”
“You reported illegal parking. There is none. That’s misuse of emergency services.”
Greg sputtered, gasping. “This is ridiculous! You can’t—”
“I can and I am.” Martinez handed him the ticket.
The tow truck driver, who’d been watching, drove away without a word.
Greg stood there, ticket in hand, face twisted with rage. “This isn’t over,” he hissed at Tyler.
Tyler just nodded and walked inside.
The next morning, Tyler left for work at 7:45. The spot was empty.
When he returned at 6 PM, Greg’s black SUV sat in “the” spot.
Tyler parked across the street. No big deal.
Day three, Tyler left at 7:30. Still beat Greg to the spot when he returned.
Day four, Greg was waiting by his car at 7 AM. Tyler waved as he drove past.
This continued for a week. Greg started leaving earlier and earlier, sitting in his car until Tyler left, then immediately taking the spot.
Tyler started parking at 6:30 AM on his way to the gym. Greg’s lights were off.
Got him.
When Tyler returned at 7 PM, Greg was standing by the spot, arms crossed. Tyler pulled in, got out.
“You think you’re clever,” Greg muttered.
“I think I’m just parking,” Tyler said.
“We’ll see about that.”
Day twelve, Tyler found a note on his windshield. “PARK SOMEWHERE ELSE OR ELSE.”
He took a photo and kept it.
Day fifteen, Greg filed a complaint with the HOA. The property manager, Sandra, called Tyler.
“Mr. Cooper, we’ve received a complaint from Mr. Patterson about parking disputes.”
“What would you like me to do?” Tyler asked. “It’s public parking.”
“I know. I told him that. He wants me to assign spots.”
“Can you do that?”
“No. It’s city property, not HOA jurisdiction. I just wanted to give you a heads-up he’s escalating.”
“Thanks.”
Day twenty, Greg tried blocking Tyler in with trash cans.
Tyler moved them and parked.
Day twenty-three, Greg “accidentally” scraped Tyler’s car with his door.
Tyler filed a police report. Martinez came back out, took photos, gave Greg a warning.
Day twenty-eight, Tyler came home to find Greg sitting on the curb, looking defeated.
Tyler parked. Got out.
Greg didn’t look up. “You win.”
“Win what?”
“I don’t know anymore.” Greg’s voice was flat. “I just… I’ve parked there since I moved in. It was routine. Part of my day. And then you showed up and…”
“And you assumed I’d back down,” Tyler finished.
“Yeah.”
“It’s just parking, man.”
“I know.” Greg stood slowly, knees cracking. “I know that now.”
He walked toward the building, shoulders slumped.
Tyler watched him go.
The next day, Tyler found a different spot two blocks down. Left “the” spot open.
Greg’s car sat there when Tyler returned from work.
The day after, Tyler took the spot again.
No confrontation. No notes. No drama.
Greg just parked somewhere else.
It took a month, but the message finally landed: public parking means public parking. No amount of shouting, threatening, or complaining could change city ordinances.
Tyler had won by simply refusing to be intimidated.
Some battles are won not through force, but through patience.
And sometimes the best revenge is just following the rules.
