Aww, gee guys, don’t mention it. That’s just how I roll.
I’m kind of like Phoenix Jones without the suit. Or the goatee. Or the ability to quell street violence by standing menacingly close to ne’ers-do-well.
Okay, I’m nothing like Phoenix Jones, but I’m pretty good.
I wrote about the parking meter issue last week, but I’m not 100% thrilled with the resolution. If I’m not mistaken, it is now incumbent upon all of us to carry a pen, paper, and a roll of tape lest we become recipients of tickets handed out by Seattle’s second or third-finest (where exactly do meter maids rank in the pecking order?). This is less than ideal.
Would it not make more sense for the City of Seattle to just stop writing tickets altogether until the issue is resolved? It would certainly be the fair thing to do.
Alas, life is not fair, and neither is government. The cogs of the parking machine must be oiled, and if lubrication must come from the ill-gotten dollars of innocent motorists, well, then so be it. We have night clubbers to protect and tunnels to build, and such altruism can rarely be accomplished without a modicum of collateral damage.
Keep that pen handy.