We've all been there.
You're hustling along the sidewalk. You're squinting to see your car in the distance. You're envisioning a tow truck, a meter maid, a windshield full of tickets. You're paranoid. You're perspiring. You're praying.
Then the moment of truth.
Your eyes zero in on that left wiper.
Then the right wiper.
A clear windshield results in a moment of quiet glee.
A pink strip of paper results in a day of anguish.
It starts with a tirade of expletives... and sometimes even four letter words don't suffice.
After that rush of adrenaline and anger, I usually find myself kicking tires, slamming car doors and struggling to keep my composure (and God help you if you cut me off after I get a parking ticket).
Every time I've gotten a parking ticket in DC (and there have been several), my mind races through the same list of adversaries.
First, I growl when I see the name of the parking enforcement officer at the bottom of each ticket. Officer "Greenlee, C" must really have it out for me. She's written two-thirds of the tickets I've received. She's mysterious (I've never once seen her in the street). She's also merciless. One time, she wrote me a ticket at 6:29pm, one minute before the daily meter rates suspend at 6:30pm. I know she's just doing her job, but why must it always come at my expense (at $25 a pop)?
Next, I blame elected officials. Who do they think they are? Who thought up these callous parking laws? Do they ever deal with these ridiculous regulations? Well, let's see. At the Wilson Building, DC Councilmembers are guaranteed free, premium parking spots on the front curb (if you're not a Councilmember, don't dare park there... it's a guaranteed ticket... I speak from experience). Councilmembers can certainly afford to own their own homes, and the driveways or garages attached. And if they don't have a driveway or garage, they can certainly afford to rent their own parking spot. The same goes for the Mayor. Moreover, he is provided multiple cars for his use and he always has the option of allowing staff to drive or park those cars for him. And at press conferences, it's not an uncommon occurrence when the Mayor, Councilmembers or other city leaders park illegally (at unpaid meters, near fire hydrants, in no parking zones). Do they ever get parking tickets? Unlikely.
Next, I curse the city's confusing parking signs. All around the city, there are multiple, overlapping (sometimes contradictory) signs. For example, 14th and F Streets NW, near the National Press Club, one sign points right and reads "no parking any time." Fifty yards down, another sign points left and reads "pay to park." Another example, on the 300 block of C Street NW (ironically located outside D.C.'s Adjudication Services), there are more meters than parking spots. As a result, drivers either avoid the area all together or put money in multiple meters just to be safe.
That's when I typically direct my anger at the city's meter system. Every time I need quarters, I only have a $20 bill in my wallet. And every time I walk inside a nearby business to ask for change, they claim they can't help me. Or sometimes, I find a ticket on my windshield by the time I return). It's 2009. Why don't all meters accept cash or credit cards? There are also all of those problems with the city's outdated meters. Hundreds of them. They eat coins; they malfunction; they cheat you. The problem is so bad that the District fielded 142,000 broken parking meters calls this year alone.
Oh, I know... I can call 3-1-1 to report a broken meter. And I have. Countless times. But there's something all together wrong about the city's ticket appeal process. Even after calling 3-1-1 (and waiting for what sometimes feels like an eternity) to report a broken meter, parking enforcement officers will still write a ticket. And then it's the driver's responsibility to appeal that ticket? I have to take the time to write an appeal, buy a stamp and mail it in to the city? I've just given the 3-1-1 operator the exact meter number where I am parked. It's 2009. There's no way to communicate that broken meter number to the city's parking enforcement officers out on the street?
With that in mind, I usually complain to myself about the city's ticket appeals process. My ABC7 colleague Jay Korff captured this one-sided process in a recent story (http://cfc.wjla.com/videoondemand.cfm?id=52883). As he reported, "This year alone, nearly 8,000 broken meter ticket claims were dismissed. Countless other improperly ticketed drivers paid [the $25 fine] not knowing any better..." Fortunately, DDOT officials say they hope to faze out single-space meters by the end of 2010 and replace them with more user-friendly technology.
At some point in the day, I get around to blaming other drivers. Who are these people, parking in the middle of a neighborhood block... ignoring the excess space in front or behind them, preventing others from parking there too? Why must delivery truck drivers routinely block vacant parking spots? Why do they disappear for 30 minutes at a time? And why can't they park at the open loading zone, located at the end of the block? If they don't park there, why can't I?
That's why I usually go back to growling at the name of the parking enforcement officer on my ticket. Miss Greenlee is always MIA when I need her most. She should be out there ticketing all of those other drivers... those inconsiderate drivers... the ones who ignore excess parking space, the ones who block vacant parking spots.
But at the end of the day, I always blame myself. I've lived (and driven) here long enough that I should know better. I should have remembered to park on the correct side of the street on street cleaning days. I should have remembered to change my dollars for quarters earlier in the day. I should have remembered to keep more quarters in my car at the end of the day. Should of, could of, would of.
After all of the growling, kicking, slamming, cursing... I tell myself, "never again."
That is, until the next time I'm hustling along the sidewalk... paranoid, perspiring and praying.
