Parking in Los Angeles.

Either you parked illegally or you didn't.

It just so happens that I, Seth McRae Amitin, owner of a 1996 black Ford Explorer that has multiple dents from stupid kids on a halloween night many years ago and severely needs a wash, parked illegally twice in three nights.

The first night was outside of a friend's (Brandon's) place on South Barrington, just off Wilshire in Westwood (I think). I parked in front of a sign that read, simply, "No parking between 9 a.m. and 12 p.m.," then in the finer print below, "Thursday street cleaning."

Granted, it happened to be a Thursday, but it was Thursday night, at 9 p.m. No, I didn't read the sign incorrectly. I made sure that it was 9 a.m. before I left my car there.

I left Brandon's apartment at 3 a.m. to find a ticket that read: "In violation of section: RED ZONE."

No, Mr. Officer, the sign said no parking between 9 a.m. and 12 p.m. on Thursdays, and I'm afraid I must make you aware that the ticket was issued at 12:45 a.m., not between the hours of 9 and 12 on Thursday morning/noon, which most likely means that I was not in violation of the sign, but of a red curb.

It wasn't red. It had been painted gray recently and some of the gray had chipped off to reveal what used to be a red curb. Thus, this officer, Officer J. Johnson, is a liar and I am entirely correct.

The ticket cost: $65.


The second ticket of the week was a tad bit more my fault.

You see, I was visiting another friend, Shalanna, at some apartment I had never been to that wasn't hers. I saw what I thought was two consecutive parking spaces that were, when facing the curb, on the right hand side of a driveway. I pulled into the driveway, waited for a car to pass me and backed into the further spot so someone else could have the spot in front of me.

I went in, had a great time, talked to some great people and generally felt good about myself for a sustained period of time.

About three hours later (after tossing back a few and chatting it up), I walked back towards where I parked to not find my car. I paced up and down the street; nothing. I looked at the driveway that I had pulled into and noticed that the spot where I thought I had parked was actually another driveway.

Pick your poison.

I double checked the street for broken glass -- it could have been stolen -- but there wasn't any, which meant it was probably impounded.


My friend Oskar was kind enough to drive me from Canoga Park to Glendale (a half-hour drive one-way).

The next morning, I called the impounder who had taken my car. $178 for an honest mistake, they said.


I picked up my '96 black Ford Explorer with the multiple dents from stupid kids on halloween from many years ago and severely needed a wash that was held in Canoga Park only to find an additional $40 ticket pinned under the windshield.


It seems as though the officer, whom I missed by 30 minutes, judging by the time the ticket was written, wrote the ticket and then called the impounders. There's no way that he wrote the ticket and didn't call the impounder, because in the span of 30 minutes, that would have required someone to call the police, a different officer notice the parking job, the officer call the impounder, the impounder driving a 5-minute drive to the parking spot, hook up the car and tow it away, which couldn't have happened.

And this is me giving the officer, Officer A. Shah, the benefit of the doubt -- what if he called the impounders, THEN wrote the ticket?



Seth McRae