There was a time…
…. a time when if I heard a police officer had been shot, I’d be really upset about it and hope that they caught the shooter. Now, my first response would be to ask if it was a real cop or just a wanna be meter maid.
If it was a “Lovely Rita” meter maid, I’d be hard pressed to feel too much sympathy, and that has nothing to do with the jive ass ticket I got in Venice a month ago where I was cited for parking for more than two hours. It seems that even though you keep feeding the meter, you have to move your car out of the spot a few feet, and then it’s o.k. to return and park again and feed the meter more quarters.
That was sure topped this morning while I was driving around endless blocks trying to find a spot to park. Then I saw a woman enter her car and start it up, I waited one car back in the traffic lane and waved cars around me while I waited for her to leave. A traffic control office pulled in behind me, and after I waved for her to go around, she pulled along side and said I couldn’t double park. I said “I’m not double parking, I’m not parking at all, only waiting for that car to leave so I could get that parking space”.
Miss paragon of warmth informed me that there was a maximum 18 inch from the curb to tire requirement, so I was double parking. Again, I said that I’m not parking, I’m just waiting for the space to open up.
Because there’s always the chance that some parking ticket in the distant past might have fallen off my windshield (windscreen in Brit talk), and so there’s always a distant possibility that a warrant is out there somewhere waiting for me, so rather than take that risk, I chose to move on.
It’s a good thing that she didn’t get out of her little gas saving mobile headquarters of parking control, and then bend over to check on my front license plate.
You know those accidents where your foot slips off the brake and floors the gas?
I’m not recommending that anyone do this.
I’m only saying……
Add comment May 14, 2008