I seriously just had to look up if "valeting" is a real word and the jury is still out but at least I'm not the only one who's researched this on Google.
This weekend I was getting ready to sleep it in when Britt dragged me to some place called Kyma Lounge at the very beautiful and expensive $18-dollars-for-a-vodkaseltzer EPIC hotel. Asides from the delicious music and an impromptu makeout session with a boy from California I'll likely never see again, there was this:
I really hope no one got hurt. But mostly, that it wasn't the valet boy who committed this abomination.
(Something tells me parking on top of the Maserati isn't conducive to keeping your job.)
Update: My friend forwarded me this story and indeed, it was the valet guy. Poor bastard.