Getting the Boot

Have you ever had one of those days, those Murphy’s Law days? If something can go wrong it will? Even when you try you’re hardest to stay positive? Do I have a story for you?

It was a day like any other day, going through the daily rote activities. I was about ½ through the work day, when a friend and I decided we needed to get out for lunch. I think we had both been having spells of, “where have all the good men gone”. At this particular time in the year, we decided we would take turns being the eternal optimist so when one of the two of us wanted to go through the “woes me”, the other would snap us back to “hey we are doing just fine look how good our lives really are”. This particular day, it was my turn to be the cheerleader…..

Off to lunch at the Bad Waitress. If you have never been there, it’s a cute little diner on Nicollet that offers a good old fashion white trash grub with an interesting serving routine. When we pulled up, we had a hard time finding a parking spot. There was a little alley right next door to the shop that looked like it was perfect for the parking. Great, let’s get our lunch and a cup of sunshine.

Lunch was good, I think we both had burgers, or sometime of the like. Pretty good deal $20 for the two of us. I even think by the end of the lunch, my friend was convinced it would all be ok, if even just for the rest of today. So, back to work we go. Out the door, on a beautiful summer day and back to the minivan parked around the corner.

What is this? There is a BIG orange sticker on the driver side of my window. Hold up, what the heck is that on my tire? You have got to be kidding me…. I have been booted? WTF! Where is the sign, where does it say I can’t park here?

There was no sign, well, none that could be seen from the parking lot. Well, let’s call the number on the BIG orange sticker. Ok, it will be about 15 minutes, or so the guy on the phone said. All of a sudden, my optimism was fading. I couldn’t falter, not today; it was my turn to be cheerleader.

So the rent a cop comes and explains to us, “Well yeah, the sign is at the front of the parking lot, right next to the bush”. What he meant to say was under the bush, and once he moved it aside we could clearly read parking was for the accounting shop next door. How nice. I asked why are there no signs in the parking lot explaining that. “Well, that would be too expensive to put a sign at every parking stall”, he stated. I’m thinking, yeah, of course it is, and not to mention it might cut into your $110 a pop for booting cars. Best my friend and I could figure was, once you turned the corner and did not go into the accounting shop, the shady looking guy sitting at the front of the parking lot runs back and immediately boots your car.

So an hour goes by, and our rent a cop is taking his good old time getting the darn thing off. I’m still looking for the bright spot, remember, cheerleader…. I say, “Well, at least we get this bright sticker to remember the occasion. Just think, we will be laughing about this years down the road. Just as these words roll off my tongue, our buddy, our less than friendly security thug, says, “Oh no, you don’t get to keep the sticker, we reuse them”.

Ok, can you repeat that, cause I am not sure I heard what you just said. “No, see here, there are two strips of stickers on back, we try to use them once or twice”, he comments. I am now PISSED. So you are telling me, you are charging me $110 buck for 20 minutes in an empty parking lot, and I don’t even get to keep the FUCKING sticker? Can you at least use a little lube when you stick it to me? I’m ready to fight.

My girlfriend is saying, you see, it’s my luck. She is also telling me, please don’t punch this guy in the face or we will never make it back to work. Did I mention we this had been waiting there for almost an hour waiting for him to write up his little sheet that says I parked in the freaking lot?

I INSISTED to him, I was keeping the sticker. “No you aren’t”, he said. “Oh yes I am”, I replied. “No you can’t, but you can buy one for 5 bucks”, states Rent-A-Cop. “I have to pay for a used sticker? You obviously think I’m mentally stable that you can stand there and tell me I can't keep this sticker and not think I’m going to go all ghetto on you”, that was about the gist of my response to him. After the fun banter back and forth for another minute or two, and my friend standing beside me saying, “Please Jen, please just give up the sticker, remember you already have one assault charge on your record” I was ready to give up.

I paid fee, thank goodness they take Visa… and we were ready to take off. One last attempt on my part to save the sticker, “Come on mister, my friend is having a really bad day, and at least give us this to keep as a souvenir? Please?” I did my best to use my cute little flirty smile, though it was hard to muster up at this point.

He must have felt pretty sorry for us at this point, he gave me the used sticker, without charging us the $5.

It was without a doubt, the most expensive burger I have ever had, but, it was also a memory I will not soon forget. I have no doubt, JP and I will laugh about this for years to come, and anytime we go out to eat and look for a parking spot, we search for hidden signs. I’m not encouraging anyone to try it out, just to see if they let you keep the sticker, but hey, if you have an extra $110 bucks you would like to just spend, and you want to join the bright orange sticker club, head on down the Bad Waitress, and you know where to park….