"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
I'm not sure how long the impasse continued. I eventually backed out and looked for another parking ramp deeper into the complex. The problem a few cars ahead of me was that the barricading arm at the entrance would not lift to permit entry. The driver in the car at the entrance vigilantly pressed the green button but no ticket was printed and the arm refused to lift.
The reason, of course, was reflected on two neon signs -- one beside and one above the entrance: "FULL." But whether so obvious of simply untenable, we paid the signs no attention.
"Never mind," the lead car seemed to say; "I would prefer to come on in and drive around, level by level, and see for myself."
Or, so accustomed to driving up, pressing the button, and driving on in, perhaps the driver looked right through the signs without registering their courteous rebuff.
Insanity, either way. Mindless repetition, that in this case built a trap: she couldn't go forward, and now, because of the line of cars accumulated behind her, she couldn't back up. So, she just kept pushing the button.
Finally comprehending the conundrum myself, I put my car in reverse, partly to alleviate the blockage, but also, as my personal attack on insanity, to attempt something different; try a different course.
In short order, and a little further down the road, I was parked and making my way. It is a beautiful autumn day, it turns out -- a fact my shorter walks had obscured -- and I caught a falling leaf on a floating breeze. The sun is bright and, after driving, the stretching stretching walk felt good.
Passing by the original parking ramp entrance, I notice the driveway now clear of cars. Hopefully the cars ahead of me had themselves found a place far enough away to notice the sun, to catch a leaf of their own, and, perchance, a new grip on their own sanity.