This report brought to you by Mountains Community Hospital
Oh, helllllls yes! It’s a Triple F, triple-day weekend: it’s Finally Frickin’ Friday, AND we have three days of weekend coming up! The roads offer no exciting stuff for a road reporter to earn his salad by, but that’s probably better for the commuters. Fine… I’ll take one for the team.
Please take note of the following advice, though. As you approach Panorama Point on this morning’s descent, crack the window a little, and savor the aroma of the hottest new entrée out there: Chicken flambé du Mercedes. People are on fire for this thing… this tri-star dish is smokin’ hot! German food isn’t usually considered “hot,” but when it’s flame-broiled, grilled, grilled again, re-grilled, super-grilled, char-broiled and car-broiled, car-amelized, blackened, car-bonized, petrified, and presented with a garnish of foam from Engine 25, it’s considered to be a little on the hot side. See www.mountainreporter.com for details on how this dish came to be.
Today is National College Colors day. People are encouraged to celebrate by wearing college colors. I’m all in, too… I’m wearing it for the team! I’ve enthusiastically embraced this, and am wearing college colors today! I don’t have any idea WHICH college, or colleges, or maybe universities I’m wearing the colors for, but I’m reasonably certain that the colors I’m wearing are at least close to SOME institute of higher learning’s colors.
So, Monday is Labor Day… a day that we celebrate by not laboring. Instead, we’ll barbecue, we’ll drink a bunch of beer, and fat dads will take their shirts off, since all of the beer will make them think that they are still holding it all together pretty well.
I also happen to have a niece who is scheduled to erupt from nine months of person-cultivation… it is quite likely that she’ll go into labor on Labor Day.
Rumor control: There is currently a huge effort underway to replace telephone poles. Edison has teams all over the mountain working to remove the old and install the new. Rumors have been circulating that these new poles are made of some mystery composite made to LOOK like wood. Now, while I certainly haven’t closely inspected ALL of the new poles, for research purposes I’ve checked a few of them. Let me assure you, they are good ol’ fashioned wood. Nothing more, nothing less… just wood.
So… dang. That’s about all we’ve got… slow news day, I guess. Let’s just fill the rest of the column up with a random story.
A few years ago, I was working as a courier driver in Houston, TX. One quick delivery at a downtown skyscraper looked like it would require about ten minutes worth of time be fed into the parking meter. However, I was well aware that delays could be unpredictable… so I fed the meter a large meal of coins, enough to give me 40 minutes, should I need it.
I made my 20th floor delivery with no delays… returned to my car in less than 10 minutes, only to find a parking ticket on my windshield. I double-checked my meter, and noted that it very clearly still had about 30 minutes remaining. Then I check all the other 50 or so vehicles parked on that street… Every. Single. Vehicle… had a ticket on the windshield. Looking at meters, I was unable to find a single expired meter.
The City of Houston used mechanized ticket issuing devices… an officer needed only to quickly type the license plate number of a vehicle into the device, and it would instantly spit out a ticket. The most time-consuming step of this ticketing process was lifting the windshield wiper to place the ticket against the windshield. Thus, an efficient thief—sorry, meter attendant—could certainly write an entire block’s worth of citations in just a few minutes. And, having not witnessed the ticketing event, it also seems very possible that a team, not just a single individual, might work a block, in order to quickly deliver their rude tidings of bullsnot, and get away before anybody was able to confront them.
My ticket was $50… and, with 50 other vehicles on the block, it was clear that the City of Houston had just generated $2,500… just. Like. that. On just one of HUNDREDS of metered blocks throughout that city.
Fight the ticket? Well, sure, that’s an option. The process to do so is even printed right there on the ticket. First, you go to a certain courthouse in the morning, and get on a list… at some time during that day, your name will be called, and you will verify that you have chosen to fight the ticket. Your name will then be put on another list, you will be given a second date, and on THAT day, you will present your evidence explaining why you feel that the ticket should be voided. Finally, on a THIRD day—you must be present, to win or to lose!—a decision will be rendered. So… a person will need to spend a minimum of THREE FULL DAYS in various city offices, rolling the dice on whether a judge will decide that your whining indignation holds merit… or that the ticket should stand, since it was, after all, issued by a police officer. Yep… I don’t think anybody is going to spend three days of their life, banking on the very unlikely chance of a best-case scenario occurring, in order to save $50. And, that’s the scam: the City of Houston KNOWS that EVERYBODY will simply pay the $50.
This, my friends, is just one of the reasons I have absolutely no love for H-Town.
There… we filled all that blank space up with some words ‘n’ stuff. Try not to overcook your chicken, don’t fret over fake telephone poles, and don’t go to Houston… no need to take one for the team, ‘cause I’ve already done that. Oh, and don’t forget to avoid labor! Enjoy your weekend—all three days of it—and we’ll catch you back here in September!
LOL I have no love for Houston either, and I grew up in TX.