Turkeys!

Well, once again the exercise-crazed among us are forcing themselves on those of us who would just as soon stay in bed. What I am referring to is the annual Turkey Trot. A 5K (or is it 10K?) jaunt around the area in my little town. They call it a "fun run" which, I can assure you, is no fun for anyone. Especially those of us who have to work the darned thing!

First of all, they hold it on Thanksgiving Day itself. Who could possibly give thanks after having to get up at 4 in the morning to be at the police station at 5, and then put into position by 6 so that when the thing starts at 8, we have already ticked off some citizens by having blocked their route? They also have the nerve to tell us it'll be over by 10. Ha! What they forget is the hardy souls (maybe foolhardy is a better word) who simply can't run that far so they end up walking three quarters of the way. Believe me, they do not finish by 10 o'clock. Some might even finish the next day!

But we, who are supposed to be writing parking tickets per our job description, have to stand out there in the cold and watch these dopes prance by, smiling and waving (I generally wave back but with only one finger). Last year it was so windy that the police barricades we set up (and WHY do they need us if there are barricades, you ask? We ask it too.) blew across the road. It's not easy to retrieve and reset those things, even with gloves on.

And another thing, I generally go to some friends house in the early afternoon for the Thanksgiving feast. How is one supposed to stay awake after getting up so early and then loading up on tryptophan? It's downright rude to the hosts to nod off in the middle of one of their stories.

But, I have no choice in the matter. I can't take a vacation day, personal time, nor call in sick, even though the thought of working this thing makes me nauseous.

TURKEYS!

Ten-seven.

I'm A Believer

Hi folks.

I haven’t written in a while because, frankly, I just haven’t been feeling it. Ya know? When a job you’ve been at for a while gets you into a slow, steady rhythm it can become its own form of highway hypnosis. Especially after the holidays. Then, something comes along and bingo, we’re back in business.

Today I was citing a car that was about three quarters of the way in the red (they still get the full ticket though). A guy who had parked across the street in a two hour zone got out of his car and came over to talk to me. This is usually to ask me if it’s okay for him to park there. Paranoia: so much fun when it’s not mine.

Now mind you, he was on the “other side” of the sign and the sign had no arrow on it pointing to where the sign applies, which indicates that the rule on that sign applies to the entire block. He came over to me and this is how it went (approximately):

Him: Is it okay to park over there?

Me: Yes, for two hours.

Him: But I’m on the other side of the sign.

Me: Is there an arrow on the sign pointing away from your car?

Him: No.

Me: Then the rule applies to the whole block.

Him: But I FIRMLY believe that if I’m on the other side of the sign, I’m okay there.

Me (This is the fictional part that played out in my mind): Oh. You FIRMLY believe. Well, okay then. If you were wishy-washy about it, I’d say no. But since you FIRMLY believe, well, of course. Do whatever you like. In fact, why don’t you try that with every law on the books? ‘Officer, you can’t arrest me for robbing that store. I FIRMLY believe I had a right to do it, because there is no sign on the outside saying not to rob the place.’ Or, 'Mister, I FIRMLY believe I should smash you in the head with this two by four because you insulted my girlfriend.’ Your beliefs are caca, my friend, and totally meaningless!

I wish I could say this type of stuff. It would make my job a hell of a lot more fun. Instead, I told him AGAIN that because the sign had no arrow, the rule applied to the entire block. So, he turned on his heel, got into his car and moved it elsewhere.

I FIRMLY believe he is an idiot.

Ten-seven