So while off work over the last couple of months...trying to get past the sudden unexpected death of my biological father and all the emotions that brought up to the surface which is not at all where I like to keep my emotions. I'm more of a shove that shit down kinda gal...I had to visit my doc a fair bit and on this one particular day I was running late. Because I always am. There is no good excuse other than I always underestimate how long it will take me to get someplace, or I can't get my eyebrows just right.
So I get to the underground parking at my doctor's office and I'm five minutes late but five minutes late is on time for me so I'm high-fiving myself all check me out! I made it! And then the parking machine which spits out the ticket won't work. The older feller working there says he will write down my license number and come find my car and put the ticket on my window so I can pay when I leave. Righto!
Behind my car he goes to WRITE down my license plate number. He takes 4 minutes. It's 6 digits people. He wasn't memorizing it!! PEN AND PAPER. I'm now gonna be ten minutes late and that really is late, late not just Colie pretty much on time late. I park and book it to the doctor where she confirms I'm crazy. Kidding. I'm not completely bonkers, just enough issues to make me one of her favorite patients and a very good social worker.
Did I mention the only parking spot I could find was two levels down and wedged between a wall and a giant concrete post and may have said motorcycles only? Yeah, that. I had to crawl out the passenger side and couldn't fit my purse out at all. My purse is bigger than my butt! Yay! And getting back in was even more troublesome. As though my butt GREW?! NAY NAY to that. Only Flat Stanley would have been able to get in the driver's side - - or my 11 year old, he's a twiggy little thing.
I get the ticket he has left on my window and go to pay. Take ticket to pay station and...wait for it....it SUCKS THE MOFO TICKET RIGHT IN and says "CALL CASHIER - your ticket is invalid." SONOFABITCH.
At this point I want out of this underground Hell. Like right now. It's hot and smelly and people are coming and going paying their tickets and trotting off, yes TROTTING, all LA LA LA watch us go while you sit here ticket-less STUCK in hot pee smelling PARKADE! LATER SUCKA!!
I push the little help button and say heeeellllpppp...my ticket got sucked in. "That's never happened before" they say. Like I'm making it up? Well, it happened now so can someone come let me out please. "Sure, sure our maintenance guy will be right there. Oh and where are you?" I'M IN THE PARKADE AT THE PAYSTATION *MOTHER EFFERS* (*that part was in my head). Where did they think I was?
No one comes.
Buzz buzz. Me again, still stuck in *FUCKING* PARKADE (*also in head).
And then he comes. The license plate man. This does not make me hopeful that I will get out of the parkade in 2015. He's so slow he's Tim Conway shuffle slow.
He opens the machine - finds my ticket - HOORAH!!! Then goes to close the machine and every alarm known to man screeches so loudly that I'm quite certain my ears are bleeding. Tim Conway looks frazzled. Keeps opening and shutting door. Pushing all buttons. The most annoying high pitched BAAARRRRRMP BAAAARRRRRMMP alarm I've ever heard continues. I'm holding my ears now. It's beyond ridiculous. I yell, "can you just open the gate? I need OUT. I have to get my children". "Oh no, dear" he says. NO? NO?!! What the fucking fuck fuck?!
About twenty five minutes passes and Tim is making no progress and I've gone deaf. I ask again to be let out. "Oh no dear, you have to pay to get out."
BUT I CAN'T PAY!!!! I scream.
"You'll have to wait dear".
"The gate CANNOT open without a paid ticket dear".
Have I ever told you how much I HATE being called "dear"? Every time he said it I mentally throat punched him. HARD. And I actually envisioned slamming his head in the door of the machine a time or two. May need to go back to doctor for anger issues? Or insane alarm ringing has tipped me over edge.
So my sighs got louder and louder - - although completely pointless since he couldn't hear them over the incessant alarm screeching.
I finally stomp off and go get my car. I drive it right up to the exit gate. I park. I glare at shuffley Tim. I very seriously contemplate busting through the gate. I'm getting later and later to pick up my kids. Would I get arrested? I'm pretty sure my sister told me someone she knew got arrested for a gate bust. Today is not a good day to be on the news, I have a hole in my leggings and not enough highlight on my cheeks to give me that J-Lo glow.
So I walk outside to the little ticket taking machine and buzz the buzzer there. I say I have been trapped in this MUTHA FUCKING parking garage for over a half an hour with the alarms going off and if someone doesn't LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW I'm gonna lose my mind and Tim Conway is gonna be the first one to get a punch.
She says she'll open the gate.
HOLD UP. The gate that shuffle footed Timmy said can't possibly be opened without a paid ticket? Yuh, that gate.
I go back to my car and Tim yells angrily - so loud I actually heard him over the alarms still blaring - "SHE IS OPENING THE GATE!! GET IN YOUR CAR RIGHT NOW! AND GET!! OUT!!"
Seriously Tim? I was TRYING TO DO JUST THAT for the last 45 minutes!! Was it your $4 I didn't get to pay? Jeeeeebus. Chill out Timster.
I walked over and punched him in the throat and then very calmly walked back to car like Walt from Breaking Bad when he blows shit up. Or I gave him the stink eye and did one of the boomboom fist bump swears from Friends and got in my car and left *Side note: may be watching too much Netflix.
I didn't get arrested. But it was close peeps. Close.
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