That's Why You Don't Snub the Parking Police

You know what’s a real hoot? A trip to city hall to see the parking clerk on a humid Monday afternoon. I mean, if that’s not a recipe for fun, I don’t know what is. 

Remember last Tuesday when my car wouldn’t start? Probably not, seeing as that was a pretty lame excuse for a post and you probably just skipped over it. Rest assured: Eleanor (my car) is back in her spot in the garage in tip-top shape. She’s a real trooper (unlike me, who lost it at the first sign of distress; keeping calm under pressure isn’t a skill I’ll be putting on my resume anytime soon). 

The other real trooper was my sister and her Triple A membership. Note to self: stop being stingy and sign up for Triple A already. The tow arrived w/in 20 minutes and the guy was super nice; he didn’t even stare at the huge zit on my chin. 

While Beth and I were standing around uselessly, traffic on our street was getting pretty backed up. We live on a one-way and the monster tow truck left no room for other cars to get by. Every so often, the tow let a few cars get around. At one of these intervals, a car saying “Parking Police” (or some equally as hated phrase) drove by and said something out the window to us. I wasn’t in the mood to deal w/ busybodies, so I just made some comment to Beth like “must be lots of parking crises at 8 in the morning.” 

After the tow got Ellie all squared away, Beth and I walked to her car just in time to see a street cleaner bearing down on us and the parking police issuing us a ticket. The street cleaner had plenty of room to get by; this was parking police payback pure and simple. And material for Jagged Little Pill part 2. 

When your car won’t staaaaaart on street cleaning day. 

When the city servant you just snubbed tickets you anyway.

It’s like ten thousand cars when all you need is a tow.

It’s meeting the mechanic of my dreams, and then seeing the price he quotes.

Isn’t it ironic?