Parking garage are an ironic parody of an immigrant's life. In there circuitous paths, leading from their lowest underground levels to their top floors, you frequently find yourself approaching a dead-end, a wall, just to realize all you need is to gently steer the wheel into a right turn, or a left turn!
Sometimes you go round-and-around and finally decide to park, and after a few minutes of moving back and forth you realize you barely fit in, and maybe, just maybe, you're better off searching somewhere else for spot ... you get out knowing that you may not find a better spot, but you do it anyways, since the act of 'searching' gives you a temporary relief; that is, you learn that the illusion of choice is more rewarding than anything real life can offer you!