Friday, May 04, 2007

Commiserate Panda

My job is in a corporate office park. That doesn't really bother me so much, I bike in, lock up, do my job, and ride on home. I glare at the people who glare at me, flick off the cars that try to kill me, and wave and/or nod at everyone else. It's a good system. I'm aware that somewhere in this little set of buildings there is a bike rack. I've heard rumors of it, I have no reason to doubt it's around somewhere, but I haven't been able to easily locate it. Combined with my obscene amount of laziness, I lock my bike to a no parking sign in front of the building. I've doing this for over a year now with problems whatsoever. This remained true until last week when the Securitas decided to assert some fictions authority.

I feel like a little background is needed to really to appreciate the Securitas, but, really, there's not that much to say. They are your typical rent-a-cops except, unlike most rent-a-cops, they drive around in a little car that says, "Securitas," on it. What the significance of the Spanish is will elude me until my dying day. Of course, by then I'm hoping to not give a damn, but I hope it involves Mexico and daring boarder crossings. Anyway, the Securitas spend all day driving around in their car putting fake orange parking tickets on people that park in the fire lane. Amusing, but pointless. Back to our story already in progress.

I come out of my job after a long shift of dealing with morons and see a little orange thing wrapped around my bike. I go over and pull it off and discover it is the parking ticket telling me to use the bike rack. I look around and double check that there are no signs telling me not to park my bike there and seeing none, stuff the ticket in my pocket, laugh, and speed away. I figure the story ends here, since I'm not going top stop locking my bike to the no parking sign (go irony!) and they probably won't hassle me. Two weeks later, I'm working and someone comes over and tells me the Securitas are snooping around my bike. I keep an eye on this because the, "ticket," says they'll impound my bike and that's my way of getting home. Nothing happens, but it's pretty irritating to know that I'm getting hassled for locking my bike somewhere convenient. Still, I'm hoping for the inevitable dramatic confrontation. I imagine it something akin to a Clint Eastwood western: Securias twitching their fingers over their ticket book and pencil, me with my bike lock key out, and an the sonic mastery of an epic soundtrack of the likes none have ever heard will fill the air. Of course these things always look better in my head, but it doesn't seem right for the Securitas to play it any other way. Live up to that potential, damn it.

Tacked on discussion topic: Waffles vs. Pancakes vs. Crepes, with your choice of filling/toppings, which is superior? Go!

-Thomas

3 Comments:

Blogger Jack said...

WAFFLES

7:38 PM, May 05, 2007  
Blogger jmullan said...

They are pronounced "craps."

6:10 PM, May 10, 2007  
Blogger T Kwong said...

That is a distinct lack of taking a side, Jesse.

Jack is, as always, right.

-Thomas

10:17 AM, May 12, 2007  

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