Adventures in Parkin'

Saturday night I went to Spiderhouse to write (though, mostly, read). Spiderhouse on a Saturday night is a little busy, and their parking is bad, but towards the end of the year it's not hard to find a spot. Still, I parked at my normal spot, catty-cornered from the place at my landlord's office. Now, I've always had a response in the back of my head if I were to get in trouble: "I was dropping off my rent check." I prepared this excuse even while parking in the middle of the month. Tonight I wouldn't have to lie since I was dropping off rent. But I never got that chance to deliver the excuse to anyone; when my car was gone, it was just gone.

So I called J&J Towings, whose number was posted on the sign above where my car should have been.

"I was dropping off rent!" I yelled at the guy.

"That's a long time to drop off rent."

That's when I went over my phonebook and realized that, no matter how many more friends I've gotten in Austin, I still only had two people to call—Scott and Lucas roommate. Neither of them answer. I leave a message with Scott, say a silent fuck you to Lucas, and begin walking. I walked five miles home. (Here's my route.)

A few blocks in a homeless person stopped me as I rushed by. "How's your night?" Shitty, I said. "I hear ya," he said, then added, "Hey, do you know a good place to sleep?"

Two things occurred to me halfway: First, I texted the situation to someone not in town any longer and added, "Fuck this town and all its inhabitants." He then suggested two people (plus my roommates). In both instances, I first thought, I don't want to get them out of bed; then I thought, Neither of them would answer; finally, I thought, fuck them especially. In fact, the way home I went through a laundry list of every person I know and damned them because I didn't feel comfortable calling them in the middle of the night to pick me up.

The second was that I should have just called a cab. But, considering the J&J guy told me I'd have to drop $200 for this, I wasn't wanting to waste money. At about the halfway point I was willing but couldn't find a number. After crossing I-35 I finally scribbled down the number but went ahead anyway, numb feet be damned. (I also had to walk a little extra to avoid Cameron Rd. because I thought that would be the place where they'd steal the laptop I'd been lugging on my shoulder. I finally got home and collapsed about 3:30.

Scott called me around 9:00 the next morning. He's a deep sleeper and he missed both my phone calls. (This actually is legit.) I then have him pick me up around noon and take me to the far ass of the city where this towing place is. His damnation is completely invalidated and more than a little over-reactionary.

I'd called ahead and as opposed to the night before the lady was nice (she called me "honey"), so I was determined not to be a dick. First question when I went to the window: What do I do about contesting this? "Uh, small claims court? I don't know." Second question: How does this work, the two truck sees the car in front of a sign it just picks it up, no questions asked? "I don't know."

Then they come back with the new amount: $220. (I didn't notice this till afterwards, but they picked up my car at 11:50, and I picked it back up at 12:50. And for twelve hours they charged me for two days of storage.) I give them my card (no checks, only cash or debit) and they can't swipe it. "It's not swiping." Can't you just type in my number? It's a perfectly working card, I've never had a problem with it. "No." That's when I lost it; the "fucks" went flying and I kicked their tiny chain-link fence pay-area.

Went to the ATM and, sure enough, insufficient funds. That's because I haven't deposited my tax refund check. Which is in my car.

I ended up OKing some direct deposit advance and getting the car back quickly. I double checked the receipt and it has clear instructions on how to contest—plus, it also states that my landlord gave a blanket authorization for towing. I called them today, and they said they'd write me a letter stating I was conducting business. Actually, I'm duly impressed with my landlord:

His vehicle should not have been towed because he was dropping off rent at the time. Please release his vehicle and drop all fees.

Then she went on to chastise the company for towing without authorization. All previous landlord bitching is now moot.

More than anything I'm held it against a shitload of people, thinking, They don't answer the phone when I casually call. Why would they now? But mostly I imagined them picking me up only hear is my step-dad in my head chastising me for irresponsibility the same way he always did when he picked me up during a car snafu. Which, of course, only helped project more undeserved passive-aggression.

Sure enough, over the next few days I freely volunteered the story to people I'd been determined to never utter the story to. This exchange happened more than once:

"Why didn't you call me?!"

"It was two in the morning."

"Oh, OK. Then I wouldn't have answered."