How to remember where you’ve parked

Well, how I remember.

I’ve been fortunate enough to travel in and out of DFW several times recently.  I fly American most of the time, because I like to see just how small a seat I can get into, and guessing which terminal I’ll return to is unpredictable, which is what every traveler wants at the end of a journey.  Win win.

I’ve taken to snapping a photo of the nearest parking lot ID post.  To their credit, no “Itchy vs Scratchy” lots at DFW, and terminal D is well marked indeed:

007 You’re about to say ‘how can you forget where you parked’, and congratulations on your superior memory.  Me?  I have a picture to remind me.


  1. BAD GD!! Coffee spat on keyboard due to laughing is not a good look! However, I empathise with your first paragraph. I have always found travelling with NorthWest to be an excitement beyond compare: “Are we going to take off today…or not?” and “Hmmm, Oh no it’s fine, I’ve got ages now. You’ve kept me here so long I can’t possibly make my connection. So when will you be flying to Boston again??!!”

    It’s easy for me to remember where I parked if I have the kids with me – tell ’em to do it! Otherwise, I quite likey your photograph the sign idea. Might borrowey ;)

  2. Bruce Small says:

    Now that’s funny. And a great idea, too.

  3. You do know there’s an app for that, right?

  4. Jim in Texas says:

    “You do know there’s an app for that, right?”

    Dunno, I think the photo’s a bit easier. I used to fly out of DFW and back the same day several times a week (That’s one of the reasons I quit in 2006) and hang my head in shame I never thought of this simple solution to what was a major PITA; goodonya

  5. We frequently do that when we travel. Particularly in countries where we don’t speak the language. For example in Morocco, it’s fun getting lost while shopping in the souks. But how do you get out? We took a picture of a storefront each time we made a turn and it made backtracking very easy.

  6. Jack Coupal says:

    It’s always a hoot for the 20-something slacker manning the pay booth at the airport parking lot when a customer walks up and says he can’t find his car.