A Boot to the Wallet

Over the past few years, I have had an increasingly negative attitude towards the city in which I live. As of late, I have decided to change my attitude and look for the good within the city limits rather than the prudish, judgmental people, the anal police, a city-wide curfew and caddy women. I am proud to say that I have made some headway in my quest. I have really made a consorted effort to appreciate what good the things I hate bring to the table. Last night, however, destroyed all of my efforts.

Last night, I had a dinner appointment at 6:30 with some very good friends of mine. I was held up at work, and thus, was late to dinner, buy my female friends understood (they are wonderful, they always do). After dinner, we watched the movie “Elf” in celebration of the half birthday of Christmas. The week had already taken a toll on my energy level, so of course, I fell asleep about half way through. I don’t remember the exact moment that I woke up, all that I know is that it was after midnight. This, in my town, means disaster. I jumped from my deliciously comfy spot on the couch said some choice profanities in my head (I really shouldn’t do that). I grabbed my things and was ushered out the door by Tiffanie. I was holding my digital camera and my external hard drive in my hands, hustling down the stairs. I looked up and realized that the sprinklers were on. As I rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs I was greeted by a steady stream of water directly in my face. I swear, it was like something out of a movie. Had I not been groggy, carrying expensive equipment or upset at my impending doom, I guess I would have laughed. I trudged on through the fountains of fluid. I think the sprinkling system must have been cursed, because the spouts of water were totally following me as I fled down the sidewalk.

Upon arriving at my car, I found that what I had been dreading to be true was confirmed to me. A bright yellow piece of paper was taped to my window along with a nice orange boot of death on one of my tires. That’s right, dear reader, I was booted. Regardless of the near-empty parking lot in which I was stationed, someone deemed my car unworthy of its placement. During the week, nearly every parking lot in Provo is patrolled by the University Parking Enforcement, and all cars without appropriate parking permits are booted or towed. I mean, heaven help us if we presume to have a social life after midnight! I called the number on the paper to be freed from my once mobile prison, and was told that someone would be arriving to remove my boot in 10 min.

Almost 20 minutes later, a nerdy, overweight University Parking employee showed up in his refrigerator box-esque Scion to take the payment of $50 from me, along with my dignity. He jumped out of his car and greeted me with all the zeal of Jabba the Hut on Prozac. He asked how I was doing. I stared him in the face and said, “What do you think? I have a boot on my car.” His reply was, “Oh, yeah…” In seconds, he had removed the dreaded device and cruised on his way… leaving me there to steam on my own disdain for the little things that make Provo Provo. My life is still a joke… even if it’s not a very funny one.

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