I was on my way to our swanky podcast recording studio, located in a Midway, St. Paul neighborhood. I always park on a street with a sign that says "Night Plow Route", which is kind of creepy...or sexy...it depends on how blonde you are and willing to lie with danger... I'm always worried that I'm going to get in the way of this night plow, but the guard who lets me in to When Harry Met Fatty Podcast Sudios always assures me that "This is St. Paul, NOT Minneapolis. We don't fuck you in the Drive Thru with silly street laws."
I wish I could believe him. But I come from the town that has Somalian Crack Staxxx. Two God-awful Twin Towers of Poverty that have gauche pastel multi-colored panels to pinpoint the exact spot where the Seventies went to die. I come from Metropalypse Now.
So far in our near-year run, I haven't been fucked over.
Last Wednesday night I drove straight from work to the show headquarters, (having performed my craft services duties of securing a Toblerone the night before. I was at Whole Foods and I couldn't find it, the cashier laughed at me when I asked. I found a Toblerone chocolate bar fit to feed fifty Ethiopians at the Lake Street Target later that evening, right before closing. There was a drunk man who was trying to shoplift Nyquil in the aisle next to me), and I parked right on the corner. I don't like parking too far in from the corner because I don't want to be the Mazda Fucktard that takes up the spot of the Fucktard that lives next to our podcast recording studio. I have parked in this spot for atleast Thirty weeks, (the run of our show), if not more.
As I got out of the car, two Tween-Age scantily clad black girls were having an argument with some Kanye West dude. I think one of them had a Pinwheel, but I'm not sure. My brain adds weird details after the fact. They walked away from Kanye and were heading towards me, who was getting out of my shitty Mazda with bags of groceries and recording equipment. Their walk turned into a saunter as they neared me and they said,
"Hey, boo, how are you?"
"I'm good!" I bleet. I want to add, "in the neighborhood," but I am focusing on the work that lies ahead of me for my Wednesday (really Friday) night. Two shows. arrrghhhh.
I get to the door and fish for my keys. I see Sha-Nay-Nay and MerKitta eye my shitty Mazda and slowly saunter on. I find my key and let myself in.
Several hours later, after the podcast business is settled, I step outside and see a piece of paper flapping under the windshield wiper of my Mazda Protege. It is nearly one in the morning.
I gather up my gear and head to the car staring at this piece of paper.
Did the black girls leave a mean note on my car? Oh god.
I get to the car and put my gear in and grab the note. It is a parking ticket.
Curses!
The last ticket I got was $180. But I didn't find that out until the next morning when I had to input the cryptic code from the ticket into the Minneapolis Police Department's website. They don't write the cost of the Malfeasance on the ticket. No No No. So I drove all the way home just fuming about the alleged price of this ticket. It was for parking within Twenty feet of a Crosswalk. The ticket looked as if it were the last of the Piggy's receipt roll, because there were purple streaks running through it.
When I got inside, I found a little green flyer stuffed in the envelope under the ticket. It was a list of Fine Amounts. How helpful! Minneapolis never does this.
Apparently since I parked within twenty feet of a "crosswalk" (the crosswalk street paint was faded out, and it was a neighborhood intersection with stop signs instead of traffic lights), all I owe for this offense is $33. Good to know.
They had a list of other offense prices, and they all seemed reasonable:
Expired Meter is 23 bucks. Parked w/in Thirty Feet of a Traffic control signal is $33. Fire Lane parking is $33.
It's when you are caught speeding or parking in Handi-Capable spots, that's when it gets outrageous. $121 to $381...
Illegal window tint: $131
No Seatbelt $106
Cracked Windshield $121.
Cracked Rearview $Listen to Hootie and the Blowfish on Shuffle for thirty weeks.
This is bananas, but I'm glad I only owe $33. I'll gladly pay the stupid chicken shit fee for parking in a neighborhood for six off-hours on a Wednesday Eve. I can't see myself successfully arguing in court about the fact that I parked within twenty feet of a crosswalk when it clearly is against the rules...for some reason. And I don't have any Character Witnesses to draw upon. I'll pay the ticket and shame the devil...the devil of not paying tickets and getting your license revoked and having to enter a new ring of bureaucratic inferno.
And this sure as hiccups beats getting a mean note from those sauntering Sasha and Malias...It's all gooood in the neighborhooooooooddddd!
I wish I could believe him. But I come from the town that has Somalian Crack Staxxx. Two God-awful Twin Towers of Poverty that have gauche pastel multi-colored panels to pinpoint the exact spot where the Seventies went to die. I come from Metropalypse Now.
So far in our near-year run, I haven't been fucked over.
Last Wednesday night I drove straight from work to the show headquarters, (having performed my craft services duties of securing a Toblerone the night before. I was at Whole Foods and I couldn't find it, the cashier laughed at me when I asked. I found a Toblerone chocolate bar fit to feed fifty Ethiopians at the Lake Street Target later that evening, right before closing. There was a drunk man who was trying to shoplift Nyquil in the aisle next to me), and I parked right on the corner. I don't like parking too far in from the corner because I don't want to be the Mazda Fucktard that takes up the spot of the Fucktard that lives next to our podcast recording studio. I have parked in this spot for atleast Thirty weeks, (the run of our show), if not more.
As I got out of the car, two Tween-Age scantily clad black girls were having an argument with some Kanye West dude. I think one of them had a Pinwheel, but I'm not sure. My brain adds weird details after the fact. They walked away from Kanye and were heading towards me, who was getting out of my shitty Mazda with bags of groceries and recording equipment. Their walk turned into a saunter as they neared me and they said,
"Hey, boo, how are you?"
"I'm good!" I bleet. I want to add, "in the neighborhood," but I am focusing on the work that lies ahead of me for my Wednesday (really Friday) night. Two shows. arrrghhhh.
I get to the door and fish for my keys. I see Sha-Nay-Nay and MerKitta eye my shitty Mazda and slowly saunter on. I find my key and let myself in.
Several hours later, after the podcast business is settled, I step outside and see a piece of paper flapping under the windshield wiper of my Mazda Protege. It is nearly one in the morning.
I gather up my gear and head to the car staring at this piece of paper.
Did the black girls leave a mean note on my car? Oh god.
I get to the car and put my gear in and grab the note. It is a parking ticket.
Curses!
The last ticket I got was $180. But I didn't find that out until the next morning when I had to input the cryptic code from the ticket into the Minneapolis Police Department's website. They don't write the cost of the Malfeasance on the ticket. No No No. So I drove all the way home just fuming about the alleged price of this ticket. It was for parking within Twenty feet of a Crosswalk. The ticket looked as if it were the last of the Piggy's receipt roll, because there were purple streaks running through it.
When I got inside, I found a little green flyer stuffed in the envelope under the ticket. It was a list of Fine Amounts. How helpful! Minneapolis never does this.
Apparently since I parked within twenty feet of a "crosswalk" (the crosswalk street paint was faded out, and it was a neighborhood intersection with stop signs instead of traffic lights), all I owe for this offense is $33. Good to know.
They had a list of other offense prices, and they all seemed reasonable:
Expired Meter is 23 bucks. Parked w/in Thirty Feet of a Traffic control signal is $33. Fire Lane parking is $33.
It's when you are caught speeding or parking in Handi-Capable spots, that's when it gets outrageous. $121 to $381...
Illegal window tint: $131
No Seatbelt $106
Cracked Windshield $121.
Cracked Rearview $Listen to Hootie and the Blowfish on Shuffle for thirty weeks.
This is bananas, but I'm glad I only owe $33. I'll gladly pay the stupid chicken shit fee for parking in a neighborhood for six off-hours on a Wednesday Eve. I can't see myself successfully arguing in court about the fact that I parked within twenty feet of a crosswalk when it clearly is against the rules...for some reason. And I don't have any Character Witnesses to draw upon. I'll pay the ticket and shame the devil...the devil of not paying tickets and getting your license revoked and having to enter a new ring of bureaucratic inferno.
And this sure as hiccups beats getting a mean note from those sauntering Sasha and Malias...It's all gooood in the neighborhooooooooddddd!
1 comment:
Oh man, that sucks. I just got the same ticket two weeks ago parking near a sidewalk in St. Paul where I walk up from work. Weird ass law. I paid $33 as well.
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