Little Person vs. Large Faceless Municipal Entity

Well, screw this shit. We have received what is known as a 'phantom ticket' from the fair and beautiful city of Detroit. Apparently this is somewhat common in and around large cities. Last week I opened an odd piece of mail to discover a demand for payment for a parking violation in the city of Detroit from July 7th. $30 plus a $20 late fee. Interesting, considering I, Tim, and the truck were nowhere near the city of Detroit that day. How they got the plate number is a mystery I plan to make a feeble attempt to resolve. Either A. someone copied down a wrong digit on a truly illegally parked vehicle, or B. someone decided they needed to make quota and picked it out of thin air.

We're still deciding what to do. One piece of advice we've seen is to simply pay the damned thing and be done with it. But extortion is a really big turn-off for me. Other people suggest to fight it if you're innocent, but be prepared to produce witnesses, documentation, and even spend a little time in court.

Our first letter-writing foray only produced (not surprisingly) a 'Dear Sir or Madam' form letter stating that the Parking Violations Bureau is unable to dismiss 'our' ticket.

More phone calls and polite but firm letters will follow. Then we'll see how bad things proceed from there. We're talking court summons, threats from legal firms, threats to garnish wages, threats to boot and tow my truck, inability to re-register the truck next year, destruction of good credit, and loss of peace of mind and sleep...any or all of the above.

Ignore it and hope all this goes away? Well, that is certainly another option. Probably foolish, but it is an option.

I need to produce proof I and the truck could not possibly have been in the city at the time. Security at work was sympathetic, but no help ("Huh! Good luck, you're gonna need it," were the head of Security's parting words for me after I asked if there was any record of my truck plate in their records...there wasn't, but there will be.). But Detroit also needs to prove I was there to get ticketed. We'll see if the original ticket can be produced, or if it has magically disappeared.

I caught Tim's cold in the last couple of days too, so that's a real bite in the ass. The longer you go without being sick, the bigger cry-baby you feel like being when it does happen. Fu**.

Yesterday I wasted three hours of my life at a detailing shop. Now I love wasting time, it's truly one of my favorite hobbies. But it's preferable if it can be in the place of my choosing, doing things of my choosing. Three hours in a cold showroom on a hard plastic chair listening to the Rolling Stones' 'Steel Wheels' CD over and over and over again from the stereo department would not have been my first choice. If I had known a job that we were told would take one hour was really going to take three, I obviously would have made different plans. Like dropped the truck off and gone home with Tim, and returned later. Screw the other things I had planned to do that morning. The friendly staff at Ultimate Body decided half my day would be spent with them, and none of my other errands had any significance. By the time they finally handed me my keys after the work was done, it was pushing 1pm and I was so steaming mad I drove straight home. And it was work that probably shouldn't have needed to be done in the first place. The 'nerf' bars (otherwise known as running boards or steps, for vertically challenged people like me ) on the truck were rusting out. They were still covered by warranty. It really wasn't their fault that the rust made them more difficult to remove. But when you're tired from working 9 busy hours with barely time for a break, short on good reading material, watching the employees and other customers schmooze like cozy old friends, watching them dig into their carry-out lunches, smelling said lunches, and listening to the middle-aged woman next to you popping her gum, calculating how many hours of sleep you might get before you have to return to work, your fuse tends to get just a *little* short.

I said nothing derogatory, and did not act out. But when I was paying the bill, there were J. Henckels and Wüsthofs in my eyes. And the friendly staff at Ultimate Body saw them.

Better planning next time.

I gave the gum-popping woman a couple dirty looks, but that accomplished nothing. Oh, she wasn't popping it loudly. But she was popping it, nonetheless. Three feet away from me. I think if there's one thing that could drive me to a random act of senseless violence, it's gum popping. I looked at the heavy fire extinguisher next to me, and then back to her, and then back at the fire extinguisher, idly gauging its weight and the force of impact on her bleach-haired cranium... Bad enough when a young person pops gum, but when an older woman does it? Even more repulsive. Chewing is for cows and other multi-stomached animals. If you cannot masticate something in a reasonably short amount of time and then properly swallow it, it has no business being in your mouth. If you cannot keep your mouth closed and the noises within contained, you may just need to be beaned with a large, heavy object.

Well, my call to the Parking Violations Bureau reveals that someone with a badge number of #397 wrote the ticket at 2pm on a 'chevy'. No year, no model. Reeeeaaaally helpful. In addition, if I want a copy of said ticket, I must arrive in person to show my drivers' license. No way, Jose'.

Detroit, you suck.