"You unlock this door with the key of imagination"

In order to become a dentist I had to prove that I could look at a schematic drawing of a flattened box and then decide what it would look like if folded into its 3 dimensional shape.  Like what you see the guy at the pizza shop doing to put together the pizza boxes.  Only I had to do it in my mind and the resultant boxes could be very irregular with a different graphic on each side.  And I had to get those sides correct as well.  So I don't understand how I could be so terribly confused by the layout in those parking garages with ramps that make me feel like I am in an M.C. Escher sketch.  (Pun intended).

The other week, I accompanied Tammy to Atlantic City for a two day NJ Hospital Association Meeting.  The room was free (for me) and, I don't know if you are aware of this, but A.C. has some great outlet shopping.  Given the choice between doubling down on a $100.00 bet at the black jack table or scoring a $200.00 down parka at the Eddie Bauer outlet for that same Benjamin, I'll take the goose down every time.  Besides, the warm feeling I'll get from a new jacket will far outlast any warm vibes I get from a pert cocktail waitress serving me free drinks while I watch my money disappear.  But when I was pulling into my parking spot on level 4 red, row 8 at the Caesar's Palace Colosseum South parking garage my full attention was on remembering this data and then locating the elevator in closest proximity to the walkway bridge over Atlantic Avenue.  Because if you have ever been in one of these garages and you wish to exit at the southeast corner of 3rd and Atlantic, you invariably end up on the northwest corner of 4th and Pacific instead.  So as we were heading toward the elevator trying to avoid being killed by the Nascar idiots doing 35 mph around the parking garage ramps, Tammy prophetically called out to me, "remember we are walking downhill".  As will become clear later on, she neglected to take into account the fact that we had first walked uphill to find an elevator and then walked downhill along another ramp to finally locate the proper elevator.  And, I will swear to this on a stack of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species, we entered the elevator on level 4 red.  You may be starting to get the picture at this point.  Of course, all of this was dutifully recorded on a scrap of paper-uploaded here for your close examination-which I carefully stashed in a pocket away from my wallet.  Because even if my wallet was stolen and I lost all my cash, credit cards and photo ID, at least I would remember where my car was parked.

  
So the next day, while Tammy was finishing up at her meetings, I was charged with checking out of the hotel and loading up the car with our two suit cases, laptop case, SLR camera, and my fourteen shopping bags.  I'm exaggerating of course, there were only three;  Eddie Bauer, Under Armor, and Clark's Shoes. I only mention this to satisfy your creepy voyeuristic interest in my sartorial tastes.  Lugging all this, I made my way through the entire casino floor, across the walk bridge, past the Temple North garage, into the elevator for Colosseum South  level 4 red and trudged up the ramp all along row 8.  To the very top and back down again......three times.  And even around the bend to level 5 row 1 just in case.   No car.  So I hold the remote door lock over my head and start pressing buttons straining to hear the comforting sound of my Subaru beeping to me.  Nothing.  Except the smug laughs and judgmental stares of other hotel guests because I have obviously forgotten where I parked my car.

At what point do I retreat back to the front desk and suggest to the concierge that my car has been stolen?  Will they drive me around the 15 levels and 2 garages in hopes that perhaps I just wrote down the wrong coordinates? Before I succumbed to these thoughts, however, I decided to text Tammy in her meeting and solicit suggestions for a more reasoned approach.  Because at this point I am totally freaked out.  I have that feeling you get when you wake up in a strange bed while on vacation and you are totally confused as to where you are for a few seconds.  Only this time it has been a half hour.  And I am sitting on my suit case, next to the elevator, trying to act nonchalant as the other guests walk confidently past me to their cars.  Tammy suggests walking up the first ramp past the elevator and then walking down the next ramp.  I have no idea how this will be any different from what I have done, but there in row 8, level 4 red is my blue Subaru.  Only this is a different row 8 level 4 red than from where I had looked.  And when I got back on the elevator, after packing up the car, to go meet Tammy, I was on level 3 yellow!  If I heard Rod Serling's voice coming over the elevator speaker at this point and announcing, "next floor, The Twilight Zone", I would not have even twitched an eyelash.

So if you are wondering how I could have been so confused, here is what we eventually figured out.  The ramp design at The Caesar's Palace Colosseum South parking garage in Atlantic City looks something like this:

MC Escher inspired parking garage ramp design.
With the nightmare enhanced by poor signage design.

And, I am not making this up, there are two level 4 red, row 8's in this one garage.  Because of the interlocking zigzags, each level 4 intersects in the middle as you can see.  At least I think that is what is occurring.  I still am not totally clear on it.  But I eventually did see signs on different ramps of the same garage that specified level 4 red, section 8.  And where you end up depends on how you got there.  Think about it.  I still am.