I always park on the fourth floor.
Whenever I leave my car at the Cape Town airport, I always leave it on the fourth floor, right at the top of the parkade. I think you should too, but I hope you don’t.
The police park several blue and white cars and grizzly blue-lighted bakkies on the fourth floor. I don’t know how well I channel the criminal mind, but I suspect my car is less likely to be stolen within sight of such a police presence.
More importantly though, and this is where you come in, it seems that the fourth floor is the least popular floor on which to park. It almost always has a few empty parking spaces when the other floors are absolutely full. I don’t really understand the rationale behind my fellow parking-seekers turning into the first floor that alledgedly has a few open spots; finding a space near the lifts on the fourth floor is a much better prize than the second-last bay on the first.
(Incidentally, don’t place too much trust in the electronic system that counts vehicles. It has the mathematical ability of a six year old – can count to 300 in theory, but in practice expect some humorous variations and giggling.)
It is actually the shunned nature of the fourth floor that makes it such a great deal. While everyone fights over floors one and two, and a few enlightened souls haul themselves up to the third, the fourth remains a pristine stretch of white lines, numbered bays and police-watched lodging. It’s a secret parking paradise known only to a few.
So, you should join me in automatically driving up to the fourth floor to find the best parking spaces. It’s just that I hope you don’t, and I hope really hope you don’t bring your friends.