Way to simple!I always take a picture of the markings on the ground at the end of the row using my smartphone. Each one contains the Parking lot name and row
No, it's just you! Sorry.Am I the only one that keeps reading the heading and thinking..."who takes their CAT to Disney" or is it just my poor reading comprehension???
No, it's just you! Sorry.
Nope you are not. There are so many like colored rentals that it can confuse anyone. And remote's are notoriously short ranged. Pick a landmark and remember it along with the aisle number. Get to your correctly number aisle and walk down to or near said landmark. Put the remote to your chin and open your mouth and hit the button if you have not found your car. Your noggin acts like an antenna and boosts signal. I know because I do it.
Heck, I walked out of Publix the other day and realized that I had absolutely no idea of where I had parked my car! I had to think back about my arrival, and was able to narrow it down to a few rows. Good thing I never have the bagger help me load the car.
Sounds like a fun experience.Precisely why I take Disney transportation to the parks.... Unfortunately, I inherited my mother's gene for loosing cars in parking lots. She would write down the level, row, spot, everything about where she parked the car in the airport parking lot and we would still spend at least an hour trying to find her car......
My best story. Walking up to my car with a cart full of groceries. Put my key in the door lock and couldn't figure out why my key wouldn't turn in the lock. Noticed a car seat in the back and thought "where did THAT come from?" And about that time some woman came running up to me, screaming that I was trying to steal her car. To which I said, "this is my car, but the key doesn't work and I don't remember a car seat in the back." It was one of those moments of "what is going on. Am I in the Twilight Zone?" Until I looked at the same spot in the row in front of her car. And there was my car - we had the exact same car - make, model, year, exterior color, interior color. Which I pointed out to the screaming woman, while apologizing for trying to get into her 1990 white ford whatever with red interior. Only then did she stop screaming at me.
Sounds like a fun experience.
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