I am highly critical of others when they do foolish things, especially when those things cause congestion in traffic. LA is brutal enough as it is. Unfortunately, I put myself in a situation last Sunday that morphed my pride into shame faster than a stick of butter morphs into melted cancer when you microwave it in BPA enriched plastic.
I was on my Bluetooth chatting with my Mommy as I pulled into the underground parking garage for Target. The car in front of me got their ticket and drove through, but the bar that blocks the next car from proceeding didn’t go down right away. Without even giving it a second thought, I continued to drive. As the bar came down on the roof of my car, I realized I had just done something so dumb that even I, a girl who has danced around the middle of a street dressed as Harry Potter in a red-and-white striped pirate shirt, was embarrassed of.
After telling my Momma what I had done because getting laughs out of my misery is one of my eagerly employed defense mechanisms, I got off my phone and found a parking space. I decided the best course of action was to go over to the parking ticket machine and push the button for a new ticket. As it was a Sunday and Target is so popular and product-ridden you will probably be able to buy stocks there soon, there was a nonstop influx of cars entering the garage. I threw myself in front of a few before finding a guy with his window rolled down. I quickly explained the situation and asked if I could grab a ticket ahead of him. He looked at me like I was a moron, which was actually fair because I was.
I went up to the machine and pushed a button, but no ticket was produced. After a few more futile pushes, I hypothesized that the machine had a sensor and a car was necessary to get it to birth a ticket. The man pulled his car up further for me, I pushed the button, and the ticket was mine! I thought I was good to go so I began walking away.
About 15 yards later I looked back and saw that the bar to separate the cars was still up. Apparently, those thingamabobs also have a sensor and if they don’t sense a car drive under them, they won’t go down, and if they don’t go down, the machine will not give another ticket. The sounds of many cars honking penetrated the not-so-crisp parking lot air because the chap who’d tried to assist me was holding up one of the entrances to the garage. Cars were backed up past the garage ramp and onto the street.
By now the parking garage attendant had noticed that I was parading around where only cars were supposed to be and he beckoned me over. I sprinted to give the chap who'd tried to help me the parking ticket and then approached the parking attendant.
Parking Attendant (PA): What is going on?
Aimster: I accidentally drove into the garage without getting a ticket, so I tried to walk up and get one from the machine but there is a sensor that won’t let you get a ticket without a car so I couldn’t get one.
PA: So whose ticket did you just give to that man?
Aimster: That was his ticket.
PA: Why did you have it?
Aimster: Because I tried to get a ticket by walking up and pushing the button, but then the machine wouldn’t give him a ticket so he couldn’t drive forward, so I gave him the ticket.
PA: So you don’t have a ticket?
Aimster: No.
PA: Okay. Let me get you a new ticket. You wait here.
He said that last part very sternly, probably sensing that I would only worsen the fiasco if I stepped into the midst of cars again. He returned with my new ticket. I thanked him and sauntered away as quickly as possible and with my head drooping more than Charlie Brown’s would if he accidentally killed Snoopy. The fact that the attendant got me a new ticket instead of just making me pay the lost ticket fee is a miracle that helped me to understand how in LA young, thin, moderately attractive, stupid girls still manage to succeed in life.
Normally I try to learn from all my mistakes, and while I’ll never do this again, I am currently more interested in seeing if I can make money of my idiocy by selling this scenario to a reality TV show starring Paris Hilton, one or more Kardashians, or the Jersey Shore kids. But in my ideal world, it would be a reality TV show starring dinosaurs (a T-Rex would be the ideal candidate for this situation because their short arms would make it difficult for them to hit the button on the ticket machine).
It seems only fitting that this story be about Target (marginally). You see, here in IL, and maybe in LA, they are running a commercial for hats with a young woman who considers whether she wears hats or not. If you haven't seen it, the brief version is that, after trying on a hat, she imagines a "perfect" fantasy life which naturally proceeds from her wearing a hat. That is entirely beside the point, though. Something about the commercial makes me think of you and I said so to Jim tonight as we saw it again. He says, "I think the way she is talking is aimster-y." So Target has made you an adjective in our house. ;)
ReplyDeleteHaha! I know that commercial, Nicole. I love Jim's comment. Aimster, you are going to add words to the dictionary faster than Sarah Palin. Which is good because someone with integrity and smarts has to start adding words to the dictionary so all the new words in my some-day crossword puzzles will not come from idiots. Anyway, if you had told the parking attendant that you were talking Rafael Nadal on the phone with your mum he might have paid you cash and not charged you for a ticket at all. Oh, in a perfect world. . . . love you!
ReplyDeleteI have not seen this commercial as I barely watch TV, but I commend Jim for making Aimster-y an adjective.
ReplyDeleteI have seen said commercial.
ReplyDeleteI agree.
Also, as far as a reality show goes, I think you should broaden the horizons, bring me to LA and we can star in a hit show called "Shockingly Smart Idiots of Orange County." Because lets face it, with our minds combined we'd be unbeatable in the ratings, then they would pay us to go to clubs, and let us walk the red carpet and shmooze with 'real' celebs...but not long after WE will be considered real celebs and everyone else will wonder why were weren't born famous...
Just a thought.