Always the hams in the fire lane. Always. It's always the hams that park in the fire lane. Seriously, it was barely drizzling when I went to pick up my kid from preschool. Like a normal person, I parked in a space. Who's parking in the fire lane? The ham moms! What the hell. And they have little kids they can carry (like, babies, since the preschool is also a day care center) so they can hustle to their cars in the drizzle - mine's a 35+ lb four year old that I could carry, I suppose, but it's easier to shepherd the kiddo along. I mean, WTF. What if there was a fire and the fire trucks couldn't get to the school because of your fat ass?!