Monday, 27 July 2009

Car Parked Illegally in the Handicapped Parking Space

I returned to the hotel after work yesterday to find a car parked in the handicapped parking spot outside of the entrance near my room. I checked. No handicapped plates. No little handicapped permit hanging from the rearview mirror. I looked around at the parking lot knowing that all the empty spaces in front of me were more than likely empty at whatever hour this jackass had parked his car in the Handicapped Parking Space. I was a little annoyed at this person's laziness and insensitivity, but in keeping with my new style, laid-back California attitude, I let it go.

This morning I went to work and the car was still in the same handicapped spot. I became further agitated.

This afternoon I came back for lunch and the car was still there. At this point, I became outraged. I thought about leaving a nasty note. But determined that would be ineffective. I thought about keying the car, but quickly became nervous about getting caught. So what did I do? I called up the front desk and tattled like a little fucking schoolgirl that a car was parked illegally.

Me: Ummm, yes, there has been a car parked in the handicapped space outside my room for almost 24 hours now and the car does not have handicapped plates. I just thought you should know.

Front Desk Lady: Ok. We'll take care of it.

Now, I don't really know what I expected them to do. I guess what I thought would happen is that they'd check the plates and find out what room the car owner was staying in and leave a mean message. Or even better, they'd slap an exorbitant parking ticket on the front windshield. Well, you can imagine my surprise when I left my hotel room 20 minutes later and there was a tow truck being hitched up to the illegally parked auto about to haul the stupid thing away. I stood there for a minute somewhat awestruck. The tow truck driver saw me and asked if the car was mine.

"Nope. Never seen it before," I replied, trying not to smile.

I quickly got into my own car and drove back to the site, thinking about how I had probably inadvertently ruined someone's day, possibly even their vacation.

And I laughed.

Oh my, did I ever laugh.

I honestly didn't mean to ruin someone's day. Well, not in this specific way, anyway. But I guess with all the bad car luck I've been having lately, it just felt good to know that someone else was getting fucked over. At the very least, I hope that the owner of the car will think twice before he parks in a handicapped parking spot again. Although, in reality, I don't really care. I'm just happy to know I screwed the fucker over.

The part that really gets me is that when I checked into this hotel, the place was practically full. They ended up having to "upgrade" me and give me one of the few rooms they had left - which just so happened to be one of the handicapped accessible rooms.

Downright hypocritical, wouldn't you say?

Friday Night Music with a Little Nudity!

Friday night I realized that I needed to not spend another night in my apartment with my cat. Since I don't know anyone to go out with, I just decided to go alone. I figured I'd look online for some local music because it had been a while since I'd gone to a show. And I was missing my rock-star friend Greg terribly. After some careful research I found two potential shows to attend: a semi-Radiohead wannabe band at a bar called the Bottom of the Hill or a Japanese punk band named Vomica at a bar around the corner from my house. After consulting with M and K, two of the biggest idiots I know, it was decided that the only show I could ever possibly attend by myself was the Vomica show.

And so I went.

The first band to go on was called Solid Dollar. I actually really liked them. They even did a cover of the Misfits We Are 138, which made me pretty happy.

And then came Vomica.

Punk isn’t normally my thing, but I kinda liked this band. Although really I can’t comment all that much on the music because it was difficult for me to concentrate on the sound since the lead singer, a Japanese-American man with very long hair, performed naked. Completely, 100% naked. For the entire show. As though I don’t find naked men repulsive enough, the singer was dancing around. And making his tiny little wang do all kinds of tiny little things (I’m going to cut the guy some slack and give him the “it was cold in there” benefit of the doubt). I was so shocked, I could do nothing but laugh. And stare. And wonder why the hell I left Boston where people perform in bars with their clothes on.

A gentleman who hung out with me that night at the show, who was also a fellow east-coaster, informed me that not all bands out here perform naked. But he went on to say that nudity is much more prevalent and accepted out here. Then he told me about the Folsom Street Fair, which is happening today (Sunday) and is a fair to celebrate leather, leather fetishes, and god knows what else. Yeah, so I'mmna definitely attend that today. Fuck. Why the hell not. I'm bringing my camera with me though. I can’t even imagine what the hell I’m about to see.

Saturday, 27 June 2009

Roads are not just for Cars

Whoever is out there taking all my awesome ideas and making them happen, here's a data point for your actuarial table of fucked-up sightings. Before yesterday, I'd have thought finding a dead body in a vacant lot would be much more likely than seeing a sober man taking a piss on a major street corner in the middle of the day. Now I am forced to reconsider.

At 2:30pm yesterday, completely out in the open on Canal Street, I saw a man taking a luxuriously long piss on a mailbox. This was no drunk guy, and this was no alleyway piss. He was on the corner of a major intersection, and I walked right by him. (In retrospect, I'm mad that I didn't go up to him and ask him for directions to something, just to eff with him.)

A few years ago, stopped in heavy traffic on Rte. 355 through downtown Rockville, I saw a businessman at a bus stop taking a lengthy piss against a fence, also in broad daylight. It was blatant! He was wearing a suit, and still had his briefcase in one hand! At the time, it was the best thing I'd ever seen.

On a slightly related note, the Onion A.V. club has an awesome interview with RZA from the Wu Tang Clan this week. In it, he says of ODB, "I think he represents a true free spirit. He's freedom. He don't give a fuck. He'll pull his car over in the middle of an expressway, stop traffic, and get out and take a piss. Is that American, or what? "

Thursday, 11 June 2009

Car Crime

What the hell. So I wake up yesterday morning with Johnny Law knockin on my bedroom door at eight. Not my front door, my bedroom door. For a moment I just laid there half asleep as if I was dreaming, what does he want with me? Did they somehow track me down on some surveillance video for smashing the parking meters with a hammer the other night? Did he see the bright green plants in the front windows? Should I explain that they are only male plants and for non-medicinal purposes only? Did he know I was late for work? Does he even know the difference between male and female plants?

In a foggy stumble off the loft bed, I wondered if I should be lookin for something sharp while asking what he wants. I was expecting the pistol drawn with that comment and heard something about a wallet. I saw my wallet on the desk and I figured I could just open the door and start swinging.

He was dressed in blue accompanied by my two roommates behind him looking like it was some kind of intervention. I wasn’t expecting that bit and tried to do some quick math on who to take out first in order to get out the door as fast as possible. I think it was then that I saw my old wallet in his hands. He handed it over and said someone found it on the street, all the cards scattered and of course, no cash. Might have lost a couple receipts as well.

I always kept that under my car seat with my movie cards and wondered if my car was okay. No report of any busted windows he said. Must be gone I thought. He started giving his hard luck stolen wallet speech and I interrupted, "It’s no big deal really. Thanks. Have a nice day." There’s the door. I didn’t get to punch anyone’s throat. I got in the shower and got ready for work.

When I rounded the corner to find the car, sure enough, there it was, hood latch popped, windows fine and passenger side unlocked. What a mess! All the junk, receipts, and small bits I’d stored under car seats and beneath floor mats for years were sprayed all over the navy corduroy interior like I’d been visited by the great garbage fairy. I started searching for the missing items of significance. The shark on the dash board had been moved but left. The half filled gallon of water, the new book, and even the discman under the seat were all still there. Then I looked at the ashtray.

Empty. The odd bullet my friend left and my change, gone. Assessing my situation with no noticeable smell of urine or vomit, I drove to work in the mess that finally came out from under the floor mats all on its own. The Lumina had gotten its point across. It sent the Man to wake me up and stole one bullet and $1.37 in change. I gave it a long cleaning after work and found about $1.37 on the floor but unfortunately, no bullet. Now I drive a bit slower, knowing full well that if I push the engine too much, somehow I’m gonna set off that missing bullet and the Lumina will be left sputtering in laughter alone on the side of some road.