I’ve spent enough money on parking tickets since moving to D.C to easily give good ‘ole Imelda Marcos a run for her strappy sandals: there was no way I was going to get yet another $100 ticket.
It’s me vs. rush hour vs. D.C. Parking Enforcement; Monday through Friday at 4:00 if I don’t move my car from the street in front of my office, I am the lucky recipient of a $100 parking ticket. Needless to say, after my first ticket I put a reminder on my Outlook calendar to alert me at 3:45 to “Move the Mini”!
One dark and stormy day at the office things were a little crazy, and for some unknown reason the Microsoft gods were working against me. I was engrossed in a project, but happened to glance at the clock: it was 4:15! So much for setting a reminder! I frantically jumped up from my desk and hustled out the door; I was sure I was done for, but I hoped and prayed that the torrential rains were keeping the parking patrol at bay. As I stepped out the door into the rain, I spotted a poncho-clad figure issuing tickets with a vengeance.
Normally, I always change into suitable shoes for traipsing through the elements, so I don’t ruin any of my beloved dress shoes.
However, when $100 is at stake there is no time for swapping shoes.
Neither puddles, worms, nor oncoming traffic could stop me as I sprinted to reach my car before the parking officer. As I was making the mad dash, I had two thoughts running through my pea brain: A) I couldn’t believe I might get another ticket, and B) Jimmy Choo ballet flats are actually pretty decent running shoes!
Narrowly avoiding an oncoming Range Rover, I managed to get to my car just as the officer was flipping open her ticket book. Perhaps it was because I was drenched in rain and looked pathetic or maybe she noticed I was willing to sacrifice my Jimmy Choos for the sake of opening up the rush hour lane, regardless, she decided to spare me the $100 ticket. From that day forward my silver metallic ballet flats weren’t just Jimmy Choos, they were my Running Choos.