Suppose you live in a major metropolis. Suppose said metropolis has a citywide transit strike. The commute by car is riddled with bumper to bumper traffic. By the time you get home, the only parking you find is next to a bus shelter that isn't being used.
Would you park there?
L: Come on. Our butt sticks out just a little bit. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't chance it.
pg: True but it's not like the bus shelter is being used. The city would have to have some big balls to ticket us during the strike.
Well, the city of New York has a round and shiny pair. $115 fine. We can't help it if C4's ass is comparable to Beyonce's.
Here is a shoddy photo taken during the wee hours of the night:
Now, I'm not a rule breaker. Anyone who knows me knows for the most part I'm a goody-two shoes. Years of parochial school and Asian upbringing has turned me into a hall monitor.
I understand that if NYC does not enforce parking regulations, all hell would break loose but come on. My husband just spent most of his night driving home. There are no parking spaces anywhere and he needs to wake up early to carpool in to sit in traffic once more.
My mother-in-law called me again. "Where are you?"
pg: In a car.
MIL: I saw on the news thousands of people on the street walking.
pg: There are always thousands of people on the street in December in NYC.
MIL: Be careful. Why are you out?
pg: I have to work. I'm ok. We're New Yorkers. We're pretty resilient.
MIL: Ok. I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.
During this conversation, my husband, the son of this woman, is screaming "There's looting and rioting everywhere! Everywhere!" Thanks Lrudlrick for your help in calming your mother.
I have two holiday parties tonight I'm not looking forward to. Call me Grinch, but I'd rather be hiking home.
My shins are on fire. Walking 50+ blocks. If this keeps up, maybe I will get Angelina's thighs.
All this walking lead me to a 50% shoe sale. I guess, that's a good thing.