88 The Parking Violations Bureau
Of all the idiot government agencies in the Known Universe, none is the equal of the New York City Parking Violations Bureau.
They’ve been chasing Lisa for years, now.
Who is Lisa? Have no idea.
But according to the PVB, we share an address.
That neither of us lives there is of no consequence.
That she never did, is meaningless.
But whomever Lisa is, she does not believe in paying parking tickets in the City of
Hooray for the Post Office. They get it right.
Boo to the PVB.
They must have people sitting around in a Department of Sadistic Threats who make sure that misaddressed mail keeps being sent to the wrong address.
They get to their desks about 10 in the morning, and after they have their coffee and donuts, and chitchat about all their latest news and read the paper, they gleefully pick targets. They are more accurate than Iraqi Scuds. They always get their man. Or their woman. By the time they go home at the end of the day (which is ,) they’ve found their latest victim or victims.
But sometimes, they make amends. Here’s the kind of story once can’t make up:
The undersigned once worked for radio station WOR, which at the time was at the corner of Broadway and
So, there’s the ’79 Plymouth Duster with its distinctive license plate, “NYP 1776,” parked in the “NYP zone.”
After work, one day, there’s a ticket on the windshield. “Illegally parked in an NYP zone.”
Send in the fine, what the hell. Send in a copy of the registration with the fine. Send in a photo of the car and the license plate with the copy of the registration and the fine. Send it all, and forget it.
Ah, but the PVB makes amends. It sends a refund. AND an apology.
Well, not exactly an apology… but what passes for an apology among idiot municipal departments.
Received nine years to the date after the ticket landed on the windshield. Nine years.
Maybe they’ll find Lisa and send another apology.
In which case, beware of illegally parked flying pigs.
I'm Wes Richards, my opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.
(c) 2006 WJR