That Ticket You Made a Big Show of Shredding? No One Will Ever Know

Grace Park, a woman whose names both have context related to this story.
Grace Park, a woman whose names both have context related to this story.

A couple of miracles are at work here. First, our regular InterWeb site got this news out before I did on this here blog, even though I wrote the durned thing and had every intention of rushing right over here to post as quickly and dramatically as I could. I like doing that.

My trouble was that during my absence from The Bremerton Beat I was no longer welcome as a contributor. So I couldn’t log in with ease. That was fine with me until about 27 minutes ago, when I was trying to post the miraculous news that the city of Bremerton was no longer going to make you pay for your parking indiscretions while it was snowing.

Andy Binion, who turned this blog I created into the BEST (pause) BLOG (pause) EVER (pause) made the case on Christmas Eve that Bremerton was issuing tickets “like spiked punch at a freshman mixer.”

I’ll have you know I dared Bremerton to cite me, envisioning the day I could go to Municipal Court and take down the man by showing photos of the street where my car was parked before and after I was cited, then asking the question, “You really want to make me pay for parking on that day?” There I was, a humble servant of the public, daring drive into work and I get tagged $25 for the privilege. The judge was sure to cower and beg mercy.

Somehow the little scooters with tire chains missed me. They didn’t today, though. I got a ticket on my first day back on the Bremerton Beat. I deserved this one, but barely.

Anyway, if you got cited between Dec. 18 and Dec. 26, you don’t have to pay it. If you already did, call the municipal court. Those of you who dared dance an inflamed tantrum on the icy streets while ripping up your ticket on one of those days, it was all for naught. Your righteous anger was noted in Heaven, to your benefit or detriment, but there will be no one here reminding you of it. The day it’s overdue will pass like, um, like, um, coeds walking by those passed-out students on the lawn, the ones who attended that mixer the night before.

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