Having a
car in New York City can be a blessing and a curse. When it's time to go
grocery shopping or if you just want a few hours to get away from the hustle
and bustle of the iron and steel streets, it's the best thing you ever bought.
However, when you have to wake up at the crack of dawn twice a week to move the
large contraption for street cleaning, what you really want to do is sell it to
the first bidder.
Living on
four maybe five hours of sleep every night this week, waking this morning was
not a happy affair. It's a good thing the sun was shining through the crack of
my drapes to soften the bite of my temperament, otherwise, the proverbial shit
might have hit the fan. After the alarm woke me up, I dragged myself out of bed
rubbing my crusty eyes towards the bathroom. On my way out I stepped in one of
Gizmo's hairballs that she happened to dislodge over the course of the night.
She just sat in the corner looking up at me like she was waiting for it to
happen. I swear I almost saw a smile. She's lucky I love her, hairballs and
all. I was so sluggish while getting ready to leave the apartment I was nearly
on the hour when I realized that I wasn't even dressed yet. Throwing on some
clothes from the nearest pile on the floor, I grabbed my keys and flew down the
four flights of stairs, nearly breaking my neck halfway down. I could almost
see the traffic police in position behind my car waiting for the long hand of
the clock to slide into position, citation in the ready. They're ruthless I
tell you. My first three months in the city I received two of those lovely
things, at sixty bucks a pop. Marcy was not a happy New Yorker. Then again, who
here is? Once I reached the landing in one piece, I ran out the door and nearly
toppled a pedestrian walking her dog. The little yapper did not appreciate my
haste and let me know its sentiments as I made my full journey across the
street. I'm going to assume that the pooch must have been New York born and bred.
When I
reached my car, I looked to my left and through my peripheral vision I saw the
dreaded dark blue, Ford sedan hiding in the shadow of the Long Island Rail Road
above the street. I see you. Can't get me this time copper. As I put
my key into the driver's side door, the ignition of the officer's car started
and pulled out of its covered spot in the shadows and into the traffic of the
street. When she slowly drove past me I observed the frustration and resentment
on the officer's face as she glanced my way. I couldn't help but shrug my
shoulders and smirk triumphantly at her as she passed. Sorry, maybe next time. Then
she pulled behind the poor fool parked about thirty yards ahead of me and gave
him a bright orange present when he reached his car five minutes too late. It's
just another day in paradise. Where did I
put those keys?
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