There is no recourse. No one to listen to your appeal. All the Johnnie Cochrans of the world just laugh at you. You have a better chance of a fair resolution happening for you if you were sitting in front of a tribunal full of Ayatollah's. What am I talking about? I'm talking about fighting a parking ticket.
A couple of weeks ago I was sitting in a red zone waiting for my less than prompt wife. She was dropping of some samples for a client. I made the fatal mistake of checking emails and facebook on my cell phone. While preoccupied looking at an email telling me that Barack Obama once knew a white woman; a parking officer of the law began to write down my license plate number.
The man in the untucked uniform failed to recognize my frantic waves. I decided just to drive off before he finished what he was doing. I could tell that he was not pleased with my get-a-way. I, on the other hand, felt that I had outsmarted the law and had pulled off an incredible jewel heist. Three days later I got the $82 ticket in the mail. So much for my Bonnie and Clyde euphoria.
A friend of mine got a parking ticket for spending less than two minutes in a red zone. Earlier he had seen a homeless person with a dog. There was no leash. He went to the nearby pet store and purchased a leash. He returned to where the homeless person was. Jumped out of his car and gave the leash to the grateful pooch. He turned around and saw a stonefaced parking enforcement official giving him a ticket. If you were ever on the fence about doing a good deed for someone, this anecdote might put an end to those benevolent thoughts.
Who are these meter folks? What makes them tick? What makes them ticket? I talked to Esteban Schwartz, an off-duty meter maid. He immediately was offended at the meter maid reference and took another swig from his opened Johnny Walker Red bottle. Esteban came from a broken home. His Mother was Guatemalan and his birth Father was a William Morris agent. He was raised by his Mother; as his Father spent more time with his clients than his own son. Certainly understandable if you knew Esteban.
Esteban took pride in the fact that he was a solid C student in high school. He was the first one in his family to attend a Junior College. He didn't take classes there he just attended. He prided himself on his patriotism. He wanted to serve his country. Just not in Afghanistan. He wanted to serve. He didn't want to trip a land mine.
Esteban had always been fascinated by the vehicles that could chalk another car's tires. His Mother had hoped that he had been fascinated by something more than that but was happy that Esteban was interested in something. Being overweight and unkempt he felt right at home after seeing the local parking enforcement folk over the years. He applied. Took a test. Answered the two questions which were: 1. Are you breathing? 2. Are you pissed at people that have better lives than you? He answered affirmatively and has been a man in uniform for over 17 years.
There are many other parking officers out there like Esteban that take glee in the fact that a well-educated person as yourself can't read the posted signs. TWO HOUR PARKING. Then in small undistinguishable lettering - unless you drive a Prius. NO WEDNESDAY PARKING. Then in small undistinguishable lettering - maybe some of the other days too.
Have you seen these new pay stations in your neighborhoods? No more just pulling up to a meter and putting your quarter in. The city has decided to mess with that simplicity by placing these mini-ATM machines about a half a block away from your car. While you are walking to the pay station from your perfectly parked car you are constantly looking over your shoulder to see if somebody is making their ticket quota at your expense. You get so nervous that you forget what space you are parked in and pay for the wrong space. Before you notice your mistake you see Esteban beaming. He defiantly waves the ticket at you before putting it under your windshield wiper.
Parking in this city will not be getting any easier in the near future. Esteban and his buds will be more feared than the Crips and the Bloods for years to come. Don't even bother going to court about the unjustness of your ticket. Even if you are religious - you don't have a prayer.
That being the case - there is only one avenue that I can turn my venting to. If my tardy wife would have been just a bit prompter none of this would have ever happened. I would have $82 more dollars in my wallet right now. I plan to place the blame where it all belongs - at the feet of my spouse. To get up the courage to do my "venting" I asked Esteban if I could take a swig from his opened Johnny Walker Red bottle. The wife can be very intimidating.
No comments:
Post a Comment