So last night I went out to dinner with JoAnne and her husband hPhil. They suggested an Irish pub down in the historic “Fells Point” area in the harbour area. There was a bit of traffic getting there, and lots more traffic in the area. But I lucked out with a parking space very close to the pub, in front of another pub. I quickly strode over to the pay kiosk and paid for two hours (although I found out later that I only really needed to pay for one hour because they don’t require payment after 8pm, but I was in too much of a hurry to look for any information about parking hours), and strode back to the car. I was probably away from the car a maximum of two minutes, and was never more than the width of the street away from the car. So imagine my surprise to find a so called “parking enforcement officer” (although I prefer to use the term “meter maid” because I don’t want to dignify this idiot with any sort of suggestion that she’s actually a trained officer) printing out a ticket. I showed her the paid ticket, and when she deigned to stop talking to whoever she’d been carrying on a running conversation on her cell phone to talk to me, all she could say was “once I’ve printed the ticket, there’s nothing I can do” and that the only way I could dispute it is if I checked off the “I want a trial” on the citation and came back in however many months it takes for it to go to trail. I pointed out that I was just over there at the payment kiosk if she’d bothered to look, and I’d left the car door ajar so it was obvious I was coming back. Even the people sitting at the tables in front of the pub verified that I’d just parked there, and that if she touched the hood of my car she could feel it was still hot. “I don’t have to look at things like that”. Well, fuck you. Is your job parking enforcement, or is it screwing the tourists and making sure they never want to come back.
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Everything I used to bore people on newsgroups and mailing lists with, now in one inconvenient place.