After my last update, I’m sure you can imagine our—or at least my—demeanor when we got back to our friend Dave’s place last night. Keep that in mind before passing any judgment on us for what I’m about to tell you. I know my grandfather will certainly appreciate the tale.
We lucked out the first night because Dave was not home for the evening and we used his parking space in the parking structure of his building. But that was not the case last night. So we circled, and circled, and circled, tired and wet. We read signs in parking lots stating “resident permit parking only, guests park on street”. Then we read signs on the street that stated “resident permit parking only, guests are screwed”. I must have driven down every street around Dave’s place backwards and forwards, literally.
Finally we found a spot…a tight squeeze, but I managed to pahk the cah as they say in Boston. After we parked we noticed a sign that indicated in a very vague manner that there may not be parking allowed where our official TRS vehicle now sat. “Do they have a ticket?” I asked Chris, pointing to the car behind us. “It’s only 10 dollars” he responded. Screw it, at 1:30am it was worth it. Chances are they’d ticket and not tow, right?
Never mind tow, we’re lucky the gosh damn car was there this morning. Sitting in our locked vehicle overnight three blocks away from us was the camcorder, my cell phone, Chris’ CD collection, Chris’ keys to the rental car, the brand new GPS receiver I purchased yesterday (which was sitting on the dash board), and of course all our miscellaneous crap in the trunk, including clothes and suitcases. So now you’re wondering what was stolen. That’s the kicker. Nothing. Everything was just as we left it, right down to the car keys sitting on the console. An impressive feat considering the driver’s window was wide open. Thank you, St. Christopher.
Drive safely…and roll up your damned windows!!