Last night, when I came home from doing Tons of Trucks with the mules, I was freezing cold. I had forgotten to wear my coat there. And I was sore from dealing with an unhappy Terry-too many little kids, too many honking horns-and from lifting the heavy harness. Anyway, I was dreaming of a hot shower before getting some studying done for my test this morning. However, when I pulled into my parking lot, who should be in my spot? Little white Jeep Wrangler-the same one I had ticketed but not towed on Sunday. What was I to do?
I took my shower and called the cops. An hour and an episode of Scrubs later, they showed up and started writing a ticket AND calling a tow truck for me. As we were in the parking lot doing this, two guys walk up to the car. The cop asks them if its theirs. Yes it is. Well, did you know its an assigned spot? Is it? And then I chipped in-yeah, it is. Its mine. You've parked there before. Oh, I didn't know. Then one guy to another-I told you not to park in the numbered spots. And then to the cop-are we going to get a ticket or something? The cop tells them its up to me and I tell him to write the ticket. He tells me he's cancelled the wrecker and that's fine because they are going to move it anyway. Then I tell the guys that I had them ticketed on Sunday and that obviously didn't mean anything to them so yeah, they were getting a ticket this time too. Then finally one guy to the other-are you mad? Yeah, I'm mad' They got the ticket and left and I did some studying. I was glad I stood my ground even though I came off as a mega bitch. But they were pretty little frat boys living off of mommy and daddy's money anyway.
[EDIT-Originally, posted to Blogger on April 6, 2011.]
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