Thursday, July 17, 2014

Deep Ellum Parking 101...

I just finished paying the 200th citation rudely littered on my windshield by the parking trolls of Deep Ellum last week. They're savage beasts roaming 24/7, I tell you. They can sniff out me and my GMC the moment we hit Commerce Street. My many attempts in becoming their favorite "funny, white-girl friend" have failed miserably. No Oscar Award-winning acts of charming B.S. can fool Gary and Glenda, the two names assigned just now to the duo you'll never catch smiling; let alone introducing their names as they're slapping bright yellow envelopes on dashes.

PSA to Gary and Glenda: I'm not backin' down! When it comes to my moolah, I can be sneakier than extreme couponers in avoiding City of Dallas scams. Not a happy camper about being bookmarked in Safari. I'm actually more mad than an Alaskan bear who's peaceful cave echoes the screeching of Sarah Palin. Because I'm in Deep Ellum four times a week at minimum. And usually during odd morning hours or post-work evenings when the lots are 85% empty! I'm going on month six of practically living at the Dallas Comedy House. I'm a law-abiding taxpayer (I think) frequently spending at Deep Ellum establishments; if we want to get all microeconomics here, the Dallas economy wins more long-term if I'm allowed to enjoy a Glazed bacon cronut or St. Pete's fry without fear of being fined. Or is it macroeconomics? Dunno. But Milton Friedman sure as heck would agree that Gary and Glenda need to take it down a notch.

Most lots are $5.00 every time you park. January through March this na├»ve fool brought Ziplock baggies of quarters because I was too rushed to test the system and/or read the 900 rules for street meters. Fair enough. I'm all about paying for a service. This is how the world goes 'round. I get it. But I'm not a fan of being over-charged after a certain point. And one day I forgot my quarters but Gary was nearby watching from his dumb golf cart. So I stuffed a piece of paper into the old school meter slot making it look like I paid before running to class because my hands were nervous sweating. Not gonna lie. But guess what? G didn't fine me. So this was my first learned tactic, subsequently leading to the need of knowing exact hours the meter monsters did inspections. And I did some successful sleuthing that took all of one minute at the St. Pete's; Glenda checks the street meters down Commerce St. first, once that clock hits 6:00:00PM. Homegirl is never late. No shocker there.

However, I recently discovered a free parking lot within safe walking distance to DCH. I have to carry a box cutter when merely walking ten feet down there at night, so the free parking ten miles down the road will never happen. And this free space, technically for Free Man and Twisted Root customers only, as indicated by a very visible sign, is/was glorious. But if you ain't parked by 5:45PM, you ain't gettin' a spot. Trust me. They're rare, coveted gems. So new challenges were presented this past April when I started writing class on Main Street. It's best to park in the other $5.00 lot next to the free lot, sitting between Main and Commerce, but is also conveniently trunchbulled by Glenda. (Google map it for a better visual.) But after two tickets in one week (I always sprint from my car to DCH to avoid the street hecklers.) I realized if I purchased the unethical $5 printed ticket, and moved it around on my dash, obviously kept upside down so as to not reveal old time stamps, one can avoid Glenda's radar pretty well.

However, in recent weeks Glenda has caught on. Hence the ticket just paid thanks to my brave-but-idiotic attempt at going two weeks using the same ticket in both lots. I've seen her way more this summer, and she knocked on my window last month to pay up. I was on the phone and thought she was a homeless person out of my peripheral vision, so after twenty minutes of ignoring, I realized she wasn't homeless and had no choice but to fork a five over, or leave. Obviously I moved to Gary's lot, because I refuse to be defeated in person. So I now try to stealthily whip into her $5.00 lot directly off Commerce St. as opposed to Main St., where you'll typically catch her posted up. In a lime green shirt that can be seen from space, no less. She don't play.

Alas, when in doubt, just look for neon Glenda or Golf carting-Gary, my friend. Aside from half my yearly salary probably funding the Parking Company of America CEO's Galveston condo, I think I'm also entitled to a VIP parking pass due to the lots residing on Deep Ellum roads either in unnecessary construction, or dire need of construction.
Alright, I'll stop ranting. It's too bad I don't have selfies with my rent-a-cop faves to post. But ultimately my point here is to take the DART, call an Uber, have a friend drop ya off, bike, rollerblade, ski, cartwheel, ride a pony, or power-walk to Deep Ellum. Just remember stranger danger. All of these suggestions are for those frequenting the area and/or tired of taking crap from G squared. But if you're just visiting occasionally or have the moral compass of a nun, pay the five bucks, duh.