Recently New York had just been ranked for being the unhappiest state in the country. My experience today could certainly tell you why.

Since I live in an apartment complex that assigns one parking space per apartment, it’s only natural that we would have an overflow of cars, most of which have no choice but to park on the side streets. When I first moved here they originally gave me trouble over that, until I went down to town hall and explained my situation. Since they knew who I was (it helps to have a long, sordid history of troublemaking with the government) they ripped up the ticket for me and sent me on my way.

Today though was a slightly different story. I’m out shoveling three cars, the sidewalk and God only knows what else for half the residents here, when I see a code enforcement car slowly moving down the street. He was actually getting out and writing tickets for each car that was parked on the street, all of which belonged to the neighbors. What the…

My car was the last in line since it was parked near the curb, so I had time to go up to the old looking douchebag and start a friendly conversation. Since we lived near a train station, the side streets here could not be used for more than 2 hours parking normally, but they tend to make unofficial exceptions for awesome people like me who have to live in this dumpy neighborhood.

“Hey there, are you writing tickets? Because all these cars belong to residents here.”

“You can’t park here. We have a snow emergency and all cars must be off the street to allow plowing.”

“Really, I wasn’t informed of this.”

“All residents were notified. Please move your car or you will be ticketed.”

“Well that’s obviously not true, since I wasn’t notified. Didn’t get a phone call, mail or anything. Not even a Twitter.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you. You will have to park your vehicle elsewhere.”

“Dude, there IS no other place to park. Where are people supposed to park their cars now, up their asses?”

“Please do not cause trouble sir, or your car will be towed and the authorities will be contacted.”

“I AM the authorities, numbnut.” I showed him my ID.

He paused at this.

“…there must be some other place for you to park?”

Oh, so NOW we’re gonna be nice about this?

We exchanged a few more words, until finally I opted to move my car and park it, (illegally if you can believe it) in front of a dumpster next to my apartment. The code enforcement dweeb continued to ticket cars, although by this time more people had come out to see what the commotion was about. Before I knew it lots of angry people with heavy shovels had now surrounded the code enforcement guy Heh.

So apparently, the schmuckheads running town hall had issued a snow emergency requiring all vehicles that were along emergency routes to be off the streets, except that evidently, none of us got this notice. Everyone else I spoke to didn’t get a single notice, so to me it would have made much more sense to leave a warning notice on each car, instead of handing out $50 parking tickets like a transit cop drunk on power. But that would have made too much sense. And besides, what liberal scumbag wouldn’t resist a mad grab for more revenues in the midst of a snow storm?

I can’t get out of this state fast enough.

Tags: apartment, cars, code, code enforcement, government, neighbor, neighborhood, neighbors, parked, parking, parking ticket, side streets, snow emergency, snow storm, storm, street, town hall
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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After a round of shooting at the range and seeing Karen, I got thoroughly depressed and decided to take a walk down Little Italy to take my mind off things. Nothing can lift my spirits faster than a chocolate covered cannoli and a slice of Mulberry Street pizza can after all.

I wanted to stash my car somewhere between Little Italy and the Seaport, so I picked a cheap garage just outside of Chinatown and rolled it right in. It was valet parking, so I had to get out and let some weird Hindu looking guy park it for me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to buy a few things or not to take back with me, so I wanted to know if I could get to my car to leave a few things if needed.

“So listen, I might come back here to drop off a few things, but I won’t be leaving just yet. Would I be able to do that?”

“I park car!”

“Yes, well, I just need to know if I’d be able to get to my ride to drop off some stuff I might buy later on.”

“I park car!”

… … …

“Ok, well, thanks for your time.” I made sure my glove compartment was locked up tight. “See you later!”

I have an odd craving to play Tic Tac Toe for some reason.

I walked a block or two and suddenly found myself in a familiar place:

Somewhere in the distance I can hear the DING DING of Law and Order.

How is it that I always wind up here one way or another? Ah well, at least this time I don’t need a lawyer for once.

Yooooooooo hoooooooooo, I hope you're getting my best side this time, darlings! *kissy kissy*

I continued uptown a few blocks until I reached Little Italy. (One thing I’ve always hated about it was just how much Chinatown overshadowed everything. Chinatown is virtually a city unto itself, while Little Italy was basically just a small, weenie street in comparison.) I stopped by the Ferrara Bakery, saw a mini wedding cake I wanted to sample too, until I saw the price tag: $15.

Um yeah, no thanks. I waved to the wise guys sitting in the back and walked back out again. I found another bakery further and got a few chocolate covered cannolis, then made my way back down again for a slice of pizza, and finally started feeling better about things. Finally walked back down to the seaport and hung out there for the rest of the afternoon.

For some reason I always feel at home downtown. Midtown always seems claustrophobic to me, but downtown I feel like I can spread my wings a little and relax more. Maybe it’s the sight of the Brooklyn Bridge and the river that does it. Even City Hall Park has its quiet charm too:

I like lamps.

Sigh, I guess I’m just kind of hoping one day I’ll find a girl who will appreciate these little things as well.

The sun had set and the day was losing its light as I walked back to the garage to pick up my ride and head home. The city had already begun to twinkle its lights, casting its reflection on the water and lighting the way for me, while subtle shades of green and red danced here and there.

The holiday season had finally arrived.

Tags: cannolis, cars, chinatown, city, holiday season, justice, little italy, park, parking, pizza, seaport, street
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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Yesterday was my last day off before I had to head back to work, so I decided to make the most of it by doing a relaxing afternoon of geocaching. First one I found was at a park where I once worked as a camp counselor, bringing back fond memories of getting jumped and beaten by a bunch of 10 year old snotheads 5 days a week. Ah yes, memories.

The next one was hidden in a what used to be a creek, long since dried up. The area was now a public plot of land that cut through an entire neighborhood and eventually ended at the grounds of a local high school. After checking the coordinates and looking around for a few minutes, I finally located the hidden cache at the guardrail that separated the park from one of the streets. It was a perfect day, the sun shining and warm enough that no jacket was needed. I felt myself relaxing and enjoying the good weather as I opened up the cache to sign the logbook.

Suddenly, a whale mountain of a hag beast Dede Scozzafava lookalike materializes out of nowhere.

“EXCUSE ME, DO YOU WORK FOR THE TOWN?

“Me? No, just taking a walk here, enjoying the weather.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, ARE YOU SCOPING OUT MY HOUSE?? WHAT DID YOU PUT IN THAT GUARDRAIL???”

“Um, no, I’m not scoping anything. Don’t worry about this either, it’s just a geocache.”

“A WHAT? WHAT IS THAT?”

I cheerily explained the concept of geocaching to her. “It’s like a box that contains little trinkets and a logbook. People hide them all over the world, post the coordinates to them online, and then you use a GPS to find it. Sort of like a hi-tech treasure hunt. It’s really fun.”

She didn’t say anything much after that, and went back into a house nearby, so I thought that was pretty much the end of that. I signed the log and went to return the cache.

Then the land whale materializes again.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??”

I tried to explain geocaching again a few more times, including how you use a GPS device to find caches.

“I DON’T WANT THAT THING HERE. TAKE IT WITH YOU NOW.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to take it, but I can let the owner know if you feel really uncomfortable about it…”

“THEY’RE SPYING ON US, ELLE!!!” She yelled out to someone apparently standing at the door of the house nearby.

“WHO DO YOU WORK FOR???” The lady apparently named Elle yelled out to me.

I explained who I worked for, which in hindsight I’m thinking was probably a mistake. Because when you combine GPS, satellites, and then the revelation that you work for a government agency, that’s not really a good combo to have when trying to explain a harmless pastime to someone, who for all attempts and purposes was acting like a paranoid schizophrenic.

“Look I have an ID here if you’re that concerned, but I really think you’re overre…”

“IDs CAN BE FALSIFIED. I CAN MAKE A FAKE ID TOO WITH MY PRINTER! I WANT THAT OUT OF HERE NOW!!”

“YOU PUT THAT THERE DIDN’T YOU!? ISN’T THAT A TRACKER??”

“Err no, it’s just a simple keyholder with a logbook inside.” I showed it to her.

Soon another neighbor walking her dog passed by and stopped to see what the commotion was about. It wasn’t 30 seconds before she started glaring at me as well like I was Ted Bundy reincarnated.

“Should we call the police?” She casually suggested. “It looks like he’s littering so they could arrest him for that.”

“I am not littering. And I don’t think I’m on private property either. This area here is a public area right?

“IT DOESN’T MATTER, I CAN SEE YOU FROM MY HOUSE!”

“YOU TAKE THAT THING WITH YOU, AND I DON’T EVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?? I SWEAR IF I SEE YOU HERE AGAIN I WILL GET MY SHOTGUN AND BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF! GET THE #%^$ OUT OF HERE NOW!”

“Ok, can I still take a walk in the pa– you know I think I’ll just leave now.”

I quickly walked back to my car, looking over my shoulder every now and then to see if she was in fact going to go back into the house to get her shotgun. Suddenly there were neighbors everywhere, all murmuring and staring at me like I had just landed here from Mars. They continued to glare at me with steely eyes of raging, foaming hatred. I had never seen anything quite like it.

I still had the cache with me, but no way was I putting it back now. I got out of there fast. Afterwards, I pulled into another section of the park area far away from Miss Nightmare on Elm Street, and hid the cache in a guardrail there.

Once upon a time I had gone to school here (not by choice), and I had always known something was just a little “off” with the locals, which is why I minimized any contact with them. They just weren’t… rational, ya know? But I never realized just how bad it really was until now. To be treated like a criminal and have my life threatened, this despite the fact that I was in a PUBLIC park and was parked legally, and so, what, I’m a threat because she saw me from her house from 50 yards away? Seriously? And then to talk about calling the police and working out how they can get me arrested WHILE I’M STANDING RIGHT THERE?

You know, even now I still have a naivete when it comes to befriending people in real life. I always think once I explain things and show I’m not a threat to them, they learn to relax around me. You would think logic and common sense would prevail in the end, right? Well…

The irony of it is that I when I had gone geocaching in Pennsylvania, people had warned of a similar scenario about a cache hidden at another local park there, and how if you parked on the street, one of the neighbors would have a fit and tell you off for parking in front of his house.

But see, that actually makes sense in a way. Here, I’m not merely parking in front of a house to the chagrin of the homeowner. No, I’m actually an agent for the government looking to place a tracking bug in a guardrail so the aliens can come later to murder you in your sleep. Because see, that just makes so much more sense.

Honestly, the more I travel, the more I realize just how badly growing up here had adversely affected the way I see people. I notice everyone around me is batty cracknuts out of their minds, and I assume that’s just how it is everywhere. People are paranoid, hostile, and will spit in your face just for daring to pollute their existence. They will be friendly one day and then come after you with knives the very next. In fact, I’m pretty certain that if I came back to that same place this weekend, they would all be quite friendly to me. Although, I think I’ll refrain from putting that theory to the test.

I should have paid attention when I took psychology at one of the local colleges here, and the professor mentioned that we had one of the highest ratio of mental hospitals than anywhere else in the country.

Now I know why.

Tags: camp counselor, geocache, geocaching, gps, neighbor, neighbors, parked, parking, Pennsylvania, world
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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So I’m getting out of my car and about to walk inside when a public safety vehicle stops in front of me.

“Excuse me sir, is this your space?”

I looked at my car.  “Well it’s usually where I park.  Why?”

“This is a reserved parking space.  You’ll have to move.”

“Really?  It doesn’t say reserved.”

“The numbers on the ground mean they’re reserved.”

“Seriously?”  I looked at my space, which had the number 293 on it.  “I thought those numbers was just to tell us how many spaces there are.”

“Look,” he said, now irritated.  “Just move your car please.”

“Sure, no problem.”

I got back in and pulled out of the lot, then found a great space in front of a fire hydrant.  I am so awesome. 

Tags: car, park, parking, parking space, public safety
Categories: In The Coal Mine
 
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What a night.

After a long, grueling day at work, I finally signed out and booked out of here as fast as I could. There was only one problem though.

My car battery was dead.

When I came to work today, several news vans had parked (and doubled parked) in spaces I usually took, and since I was in a hurry, I turned on my hazard lights, doubled parked my car as well, and ran inside so I could sign in on time. I came back out again, found another parking space to stash my car, and yep, I forgot to turn off the hazard lights.

Mother@#$%.

I didn’t want to embarrass myself by asking around here for somebody to help jumpstart my car, so I called up roadside assistance, figuring it wouldn’t be a big deal for them to send somebody over to quickly get me up and running again.

Good grief, it was like I had called the DMV.

“What is your VIN number?”

“What is the make and model of your vehicle?”

“What is your call back number?”

“What is your current home address?”

“What is your work address?”

“What is the color of your vehicle?”

Color???? Who gives a crap what color it is?? Just send somebody over here to jumpstart it already so I can go home, dammit!!!!!!!!

FINALLY, the operator informed me that someone would shortly arrive and that I would get two automated calls to confirm the service truck’s arrival.

I get the first call: “Your service truck is estimated to arrive in one hour.”

Fortunately the guy came sooner than that. On my way out to greet him, I passed by a couple of young lawyers, a guy and a girl who worked out of our case assessment office. They were stepping out too but ignored me. The guy was built, clean cut, and nicely dressed in a sharp suit, and the girl of course was a gorgeous looking brunette. I looked at them and felt ashamed. I was in rags of a uniform, a 5 o’ clock shadow on my face, with sad, broken eyes whose fire had died out a long time ago. I looked at them for a long moment. Accomplished people. Happy people. Something I would never become, a life that I would never have. I quickened my pace to get away from them and headed up the street

The service guy was a friendly dude who arrived in a minivan. When he stepped out, I noticed he was missing some of his front teeth.

“Awww kay, ley me paww ze ood herr.”

“Uh, ok.”

A few minutes later my precious baby roared to life once again.

“Awwwkay! Yor awww goods zuu go.”

I thanked him, jumped in and floored it. I wanted to get home, crawl into bed, and get away from this weary life. To sleep and dream, and perhaps never wake up again.

Tags: assessment office, brunette, car, car battery, dmv, dream, failure, good grief, hurry, job, jumpstart, lawyers, life, parking, parking space, rags, rant, roadside assistance, service, sleep, vans, work address, young lawyers
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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One thing about the media, when it comes to covering a story they obviously feel they can park anywhere they damn well please. I showed up to work today seeing my usual parking spaces taken up by several news vans, some of which were even double parked. Idiots.

I walked up to the building and noticed they were having a major press conference right outside the front entrance. Naturally, being the serious professional that I am, I started making faces at the cameras as I walked by. I heard a few snickers and quickly went inside before the spokesman had a chance to turn around and see who had just disrupted his live conference.

Fun day.

Tags: cameras, doubled parked, faces, humor, job, media, news vans, parking, press conference, snickers, spokesman, vans
Categories: In The Coal Mine
 
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