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So how’s life you ask?
Life is absolutely peachy keen.
Work has kept me rather busy these days but all and all, it’s
great. My family is healthy, I’m happy
at my job, Nicole and I are better than we ever have been, and I love Alameda. When times get rough, I think about these
things and I realize how fortunate I am.
The other day, I woke up to banging on my door. I open the door and it’s my maintenance man
all frantic. “They’re towing your
car! They’re towing your car!”
Where I live, you can
park on the beach side of the street up until 9am. After 9 they tow your car. I park on the beach side because I usually
leave for work around 8:45am.
I’m totally confused.
So I run into my room, grab my robe and b-line it out the front door to
my car in flip flops. As I’m running I
shout, “What time is it?”
“9:20.” He
responds. My shift starts at 9:45. I had accidentally set my alarm clock to pm
instead of am. Needless to say, I had a
heart attack. As I’m running to my car,
I realize I’m ridiculously late for work.
I did however, manage to not get my car towed, but get a $22 parking
ticket.
I sprint back into my apartment and throw on my work clothes,
slacks, and a white dress shirt. Both
still have creases from ironing the day before.
My hair still has gel in it from the night before. I run water through, brush my teeth, throw on
my shoes and bolted out the door. No
kiss on the forehead good bye to Nicole like I do every morning.
I drove 90 the whole way, praying for God to protect my car
as I recklessly sped. I get to work in
18 minutes, what usually takes me 25. I
drive to my usual parking lot to park.
The lot says LOT FULL. Absolutely
ridiculous. Now I have to find
parking. I park at the first meter I
see, knowing that I’ll never have time to feed it. You can’t just run out to your car in the
middle of service. I park realizing it’s
a $50 parking spot, because that’s how much SF parking tickets are for expired
meters. It was the only option I had,
unless I wanted to be even later than I already was. So I park.
I get to work fifteen minutes late.
I beat the boss to work. Whew. Close
call.
At the end of my shift, I walk back to my car expecting to
see a ticket. I walk and I walk, dreading
the site of that inevitable white envelope on my windshield. As I approach my spot, I realized there was
no white envelope. In fact, there was no
car. I look up at the sign right above
my head and it says, NO PARKING 10am-3pm, Tow Away. I stand and stare at the empty spot, trying
to convince myself that this wasn’t where I parked my car. I chuckle.
I dodge one tow truck in the morning and get nailed later that day. Ain’t that something.
I take a cab to the tow yard. $12. I
go up to the window to get my car.
“That’ll be $240.” I sigh. My whole shift, worked for free. Plus a $60 ticket for parking in a tow away
zone. 22+12+240+60 = 334. A $334 day. So that was last Monday.
As I drove home in my car, instead of tripping about the
days occurrences, I decide to laugh instead.
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