Did I mention the parking structure.
(By the way, thank you for reading this far into my silly blog. Also, don’t yell at me about the Star Wars Episode III A New Hope thing. Yes, A New Hope is episode IV. Here’s my back. Get off it.)
So, the bailiff has scribbled some sort of number on the top of the parking ticket. Ignore this, she says, that’s for book-keeping.
The hell you say.
I walk the 33 blocks to the structure and get in my car. I pull up to the gate, insert my ticket. “Please Pay $9.00.” Um, no. The bailiff said Ignore… I take the ticket back, 180 degree spin, re-insert. “Please Pay $9.00.”
Crap. Cars are lining up behind me. I flip the card around, upside down, inside out. origami the hell out of it until it looks like a credit card.
“Please Pay $9.00”
Now, civic duty is one thing. And, I actually took a shower and shaved. Deodorant, maybe.
“Please Pay $9.00.”
Dammit. Now, there’s a line of about 5 cars behind me. And, everyone wants out.
Out comes the credit card. $9.00 ransom. I am not happy. In my haste to get past the arm, I forget to push the Receipt button until I am 4 feet too far.
Grrrrr* (*not the actual expression I used. It was something Factually Funnier and rhymed with Ftuck. There was also an exclamation point, but I didn’t want to offend anyone.)
So, Home I go, gnashing my teeth about the nine bucks, this stupid trial, and the LA Traffic.
Can I please have a beer when I get home?
Crap! We’re out of beer?!