De Ce Monde Secret de l’ Amelie Americaine

Parking Cop This morning I sheepishly walked the “walk of shame” toward my vehicle, knowing full well what was waiting for me when I arrived. Sure enough, not only did I have the bright orange envelope sticking out from underneath my windshield wiper, but there was also a nearly permanent, florescent yellow sticker plastered across my window, proclaiming that I had failed to move my car for the street-sweepers. I had been tagged, ticketed, and publicly rebuked for forgetting to move my car.

Like the judge who forces inmates in prison to wear pink jumpsuits, the stickers screams “look at me, I’m an irresponsible idiot.” to everyone who passes by. This dreaded sticker is nearly impossible to get off without a serious amount of elbow grease. It is the staple tool of intimidation used by over zealous traffic cops, who prefer to spend their time strolling shaded, residential neighborhoods, as opposed to dealing with the traffic jam in front of the Brooklyn Bridge. Just another reason to look forward to the day when my car will be safely parked in my suburban garage, away from prying judgmental eyes everywhere.