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Discount meter maids and Drug addled gamers.

30 Sep

What a bunch of power hungry spit-weasels.

I am talking about meter maids.

The area I work in is all cramped, fight for a parking place, down town Manhattan Beach. Parking, such as it is, is hard to come by, unless you are willing to drive several levels below ground. Here you will find a place to park, and if need be, wait out a nuclear war.

For those that park on the street, there is someone out to get you.

Someone who doesn’t want to hear it, is just “doing my job” and will talk over you while walking away from you.

I was hiking out of the underground car bunker the other morning, heading to work when the electric 3-wheeler rolled past me, chocking tires with chalk as he went. Their little cart has all the colors and markings of a cop car, and the meter maid has a little uniform and everything.

Except that they are not cops, but they really feel they are on the front lines of fighting crime.

The 3-wheeler stopped and a morbidly obese meter dude was out and at the curb, writing up a ticket.

The car owner came out of the shop she was in and ran over.

“The meter hasn’t expired!”

The meter maid pulled the thermal print ticket out and tucked it into the windshield wiper.

“Gotta curb your wheels on a hill maam.” This was said in an “I am so sick of your shit” tone and he walked away from her.

“But we aren’t on a hill!”

She was right on that one. We were on a lull between hills. Her car was on flat ground. If she left it in neutral, I would have had a hard time pushing it any distance, much less the slope forcing the car out of gear.

Meter maid didn’t pause as he stuffed his gut back into his 3-wheeler and rolled off, no doubt on his way to save the world from double parked terrorists.

It was a wicked little example of the wrong guy in the wrong job. I am not even a meter maid and I could see he was full of shit.

And the car owner? She can probably take pics, go to court, waste a day all in order to save the ticket.

Everyone talks about the cops being aggro beasts with a badge.

Truth is, I hope so. The true criminal element is savage and brutal. I like the idea that the cops are bad ass soldiers with an ax to grind. For the most part, the biggest complainers are suspect at best.

I once had a guy at a large party gathering handing out cards with a script of how to keep the police from illegally searching me.

“Why do I need this?” I held up the card.

“Because the cops will jack you up for no reason, man.” His tone implied that this was common knowledge.

“I don’t know that I have ever been jacked up, have you?” I love a good leading question.

“Yeah man, 4 times.”

“4 times?” I feigned shock. I was not even remotely shocked that this unwashed shit head was routinely “Jacked up” by the police.

“Any of those turn into an arrest?”

“All of them!” He pounced on this as if it proved a point somehow.

It did, but not the one he thought.

“Whatever for?” Wait for it.

“Possession, but it wasn’t mine!” Ah, the classic “Wasn’t mine” defense.

I have known a huge amount of shady people in my life. Never once have I ever been asked to hold on to some drugs for someone.

So this guy, who obviously travels around with illegal bits of business on his person, has caught the eye of the police. (Nice catch guys) And, because his decision to break the law in whatever inept manner he does it that has led repeatedly to his arrest, he feels compelled to help others protect their rights from getting “Jacked up” by the police.

I have an idea on how to accomplish that same thing, without having to memorize a speech.

Stop breaking the law, asshole.

And as for the lady who got the ticket for parking on flat ground and didn’t curb her wheels?

Go to court and stand next to the guy who forgot his speech.

But it wasn’t even his, man. Honest.

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Posted by on September 30, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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