sale-rdwag-1816138477@craigslist.org June 30, 2010

I was almost a victim of an unfair Travis Country parking ticket. I was so excited to see your post on Craigslist looking for people to tell their stories, as I need this space to finally get it all out! Even if it is to a stranger like you. Because to be totally honest and anonymous, my sorority sisters would exile me if they knew about this indiscretion. The only other person who knows is God, so consider yourself in my trust tree.

It was sometime during March when I was downtown with my sisters. Like a gaggle of over-age Girl Scouts, we sang Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know,” gliding through troughs of 6th Street swine, nary a sober mind.  I may or may not have been featured on Girls Gone Wild, but evidence proves this former America’s Funniest Home videos starlett had become less favorable to God (just this once, I swear!) But hey, that’s what college is all about, no?

Once I lost my lucky wig, I knew it was time to go home but I still couldn’t find my car. I mean, the keys were in my pussy the whole time.  But my Volvo is too big. I knew I should have got the hatchback.

There was a serious moment of clarity somewhere between greasy pizza and a motorboat huddle. That car looks just like mine, Jesus fish and all.
But I didn’t have 3 parking tickets and a smashed back window when I left it there? The moment of clarity turned into a moment of hilarity, in quick succession was heavily drunken calamity. How will I get home now?! I called out to an unresponsive God. The shattered glass crackled around my numb, shoeless feet. I needed chapstick. Not lipgloss… chapstick.

Then, before I had a chance to hail the lone pedi-cab hipster, there was a rotund voice that bounced off the stone street and into my cochlear implant. “If you stick your key in that car, I’ll have to arrest you for drunk driving.”
Does that mean I’ll get to ride in your car? Shotgun! I stuttered, then realized this cop was seated dorsal on an animal. Not a horse. A Steed. This creature made Mr. Ed look like a seahorse.

Let’s just say, it was like giving an Indian sunburn to a whale.

Officer – no shit- Jimmy Dean rolled all 3 of my parking tickets into joints and smoked each one of them as we trotted off sidesaddle into the sunrise- marking my 3rd day in the same set of false lashes and the day I beat the tickets off.  The following week can be archived under SXSW SXS[rest].