Frugality pays

I have never used valet parking.
That’s right, faithful followers of James’ blogs, Larry, that paragon of class has never used valet parking. Mostly because he’s also a paragon of cheapness. (Cheapness and They Might Be Giants are the binds that tie the Dwellers together)
Last night on the North Side of Pittsburgh the Gauntlet was thrown down: use valet parking or get ticketed.
Drew: “They said we had to use valet parking for this event.”
Me: “What if we don’t?”
Drew: “It’s permit parking only around here, you’ll get a ticket.”
Signs: F permit: 2 hour parking 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.
Joe: "Screw the man!"
It was 6:12. Why chance it?
Especially when further down the road the signs changed their tune.
New sign: 4 hour parking.
Ha, ha! Score! Almost.
The 4 spaces were taken up by three cars. I cursed the Ford Taurus driver with bad parking skills. But as so often happens, while I was cursing, Joe spotted the answer.
Joe: “Look, parking meters!”
It was like a slice of revenge. We parked, I grabbed a handful of change. The sign said the meters were enforced only until 6 p.m. It was 6:14. Score a major victory for cheapness.
Joe: “Screw the Man!”
I dropped the change into my pocket, and we walked the two blocks, where we were confronted by the same security officer who had confronted Drew.
Officer: “You have to use valet parking for this event; it was part of the deal.”
Me: “What if we don’t?”
Officer: “It’s permit parking only around here, you’ll get a ticket.”
Joe: “What about where the meters are on that next street over?”
Officer: “There? Oh, you can park there at your own risk.”
Me: “We’re good!”
Joe: “What do you mean ‘own risk’?”
Officer: “Did you see that housing project you parked in front of?”
Me: “I saw a playground with about 10 teenagers playing basketball at dusk.”
Officer: condescending smile.
Joe: “I have a bad feeling.”
Me: “Screw the man!, Remember?”
Officer: another condescending smile.
Joe: concerned look like he might not make it to his date.
Me: “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
Now, I’m not blaming this on parking in front of the housing project, by any means. I’m not blaming this on the officer and I’m not blaming it on me for saying, “what’s the worst thing that could happen,” although Joe is.
But some bad things happened.
The girl Joe was supposed to meet cancelled their plans. Wine cost $5 a glass. I tore the sole half way off my boot during Fade Right, leaving me making a whap-thWACK sound for two and a half games every time my left foot stepped. They took down the pasta bar before we could get seconds, I left my driver’s license and money in Joe’s backpack, preventing me from buying new shoes or anything that could stop the whap-thWACKing. Dave got stiffed on a tip at work, Bin Laden escaped for another day, James didn’t get a date (although this could hardly be my fault.) and I avoided the valets for another day.
But when the show was over, my car was still there, with no broken windows and a radio installed. The weird thing is, when I parked I didn’t have a radio.
I should really go back and thank those kids. Who else would have put a radio in my car at night? That officer? I don’t think so.