I feel guilty this one was so easy. So easy in fact I combed an entire street. So easy and I’m sorry to say, enjoyable. What’s so hard about checking the parking meters up and down Ocean Avenue in downtown Laguna Beach, CA on a resplendent afternoon? Sunshine = blinding, ocean = azure sequins, temperature = warm and fresh, like bread recently out of the oven, wrapped in fresh linen in a basket.
Ten meters had expired. I cannot explain why in two of those meters I dropped fifty cents instead of the single quarter I dropped in the others. I assume it was divine guidance. Maybe the extra twelve or twenty-four minutes didn’t help anyone. Still, I have faith.
I know Laguna Beach. I use to live there. Before I applied for my resident sticker (includes not having to pay for metered parking when displayed), I racked up so many tickets, the fees would’ve bought each one of my neighbors their resident stickers. I could smell the meter police. He/she was eerily out of sight. Couldn’t hear a thing – the kind of quiet that’s like a giant yoga-like exhale in a tourist town that’s just been exorcised. Maybe those extra minutes, that twenty-five cents saved someone from the headache, the expense, the red tape, the “straw that broke the camel’s back” moment.
Maybe all it did was make me feel unreasonably chipper.
Hey. I’m just doing what I said I’d do. I have a strong feeling it’s not always going to be this easy and/or pleasant. So excuse me while I roll around and wiggle in this one.
Bonus? We’re “stuck” here an extra two days because O’Hare is flailing about as the midwest digs itself out of two feet of snow and -40 to -50 (as in NEGATIVE; as in MINUS!) degree F windchill temps. That is not poetic license or exaggeration for artistic sake. Check the internet. That shit’s for real. When did Chicago become freaking ALASKA?
Chicago is predicted to be enjoying the balmy 30’s on Thursday the day we are now slated to fly home.
So YES. I am rolling around, wiggling and burrowing into this moment thank you.