Any given Sunday

wherein: *something really bad happens. *three good things happen. *money is wasted and saved in the process. *I learn an important lesson.

When I woke up on Sunday I knew something was wrong. Thought at first it might have been a dream, because it was one of those feelings you can't quite place. Can't name it, can't quite make out an image of it. Must be a dream. Went to the bathroom. Got back in bed. Snuggled up.
Then I remembered the sign.
It had been sometime earlier this week. I was parking the car along the Golden Gate park, 'cause our street -which supposedly has 'ample' street parking, was full up, as usual. The sign had said no parking within 100 feet on Sunday, vehicles will be towed. I hadn't really looked at the sign since it was a) not Sunday and b) the Sunday in question seemed to be somewhere in March, the printed date being something like ../03/08.
But now it was Sunday. Moreover it was Sunday the 3rd of February 2008. One would have to hate TV and the NFL to not know this... I mean indifferent about the NFL, you do keep track of things you hate, don't you?
In Europe we have the (entirely logical and correct) habit of first stating the day-of-month, followed by the month and topped of by the year: 02/03/08 would therefore be the second of March and consequently of no concern to you if it happens to be the end of January and you are parking your car.
But this is America. Anything is possible. It's practically the nation's credo: We do things different, and proud of it! We measure stuff in feet, weigh them in ounces, spell address with two (!) d's and s'ses for no good reason AND screw you up on the date! Don't like it? Go join the coalition of the unwilling my friend; this is Bush country (ok, THIS wasn't his doing, but you get my drift).
So back to my presentiment. Last night it was raining cats and dogs, there was no available parking in our street, I parked in between a long row of cars along the park and had probably made a horrible mistake in doing so. I shot out of bed, considered running outside in nothing but my boxer-shorts and stopped short. If my car had been towed by the sneaky-sign mafia, so be it. Que sera, sera. It would suck. I mean really suck. But running out in your undies won't help. Take it like a man, suck it up.. or.. act like it hasn't happened. Ignore the pit in your stomach. As long as you haven't actually seen the empty spot of tarmac, it hasn't really happened, right?
Business as usual then. Check my mail. Find out if those people giving away free monitors through craigslist.org have written back. Rejoice! Two 19" monitors ready to be picked up, gratis. Map out driving route for the pickup. Get dressed. Walk out the door and smell the roses. Get in my..., oh S##t! Somebody freakin' towed my car!
Back to frenzy mode. Imagine car is not towed but stolen! Get even more worked up. Call Towing company. Find out they have a nice black Ford with my license plate. Calm down. Except reality. What was it you said, automatic robot-voice lady? I need a release form from the Police? Jeez. I need to sit down if I'm gonna talk to the Police. Go back inside. Find pen. Find all car-related paperwork. Realize it is all in car (not so good judgement on my part, but I can explain). Get worked up again. Eat apple. Put on on cool, calm & collective voice I use for official stuff. Call Police.
"Hi, good morning, my car has been towed and I have been told I need a release form from you guys"
"Licence plate number"
Didn't know this one by heart and didn't have the papers. Luckily I am so in love with my new car that I had taken a lot of pictures. Gave the man the number.
"Let's see. Yeah, we got the car. You the owner?"
Now things were going to get a little tricky. I bought the car two weeks ago, but the dealer hadn't received my new sticker and registration from the DMV yet. Gave this one my best shot -involving that it is insured in my name & I have a receipt from a mechanic for work on the car, and it seemed to work.
"Yeah, you need to come down here and we'll sort it out"
That didn't sound too bad. Just wait till they see my Dutch driver's license and my interesting first name.

Called the people with the monitors. Explained my predicament. Got the sympathetic response I was hoping for. Getting there a little later would be no problem, and good luck with the car. Hopped in a cab and $22.50 later I got out in front of the San Francisco Hall of Justice. First thing you see coming through the door is an airport-sized security check-point. Having my I-can't-really-prove-it's-mine car towed was humiliating enough, I really didn't need to be standing in my socks too (Dave Chappelle's 'bend over and lift your sack' joke came to mind). Frantically looking for a way out of this situation I saw a small window with a S.F.P.D. sign. Thank you!
That relief didn't last long, because the cop behind the window was far less accommodating then the one on the phone. Gone was the can-do attitude, replaced by the suspicious 'what are you trying to pull?' look. Played out my spiel once again. This time hampered by a foreign license and ditto first name. They guy went to "See what I can do", but it seemed more to get away from me and laugh out loud then any real hope of resolving my problem. I looked behind me, only to find a line had now formed. Gave them my best 'Sorry for being difficult' look and decided to focus on my own problems.
After what seemed like an eternity the cop came back carrying all my documents and, Oh golly!, a release slip. Can't quite relate how happy I was, suffice to say I used 'Oh Golly!' to describe it.

On to the tow lot. Conveniently located around the corner. Even though rationally I had got into this mess all through my own doing, I was starting to feel like the city was giving me a bit 'o the cold shoulder. It was another sign that came to the rescue:


Well, it's nice to know someone cares right? Wrong. It was a setup. And I walked right into it. They know you've probably been through a bit before you see the sign. They know they're gonna hit you where it hurts -the wallet, in about five minutes after you see the sign. They are trying to soften you up. I walked in thinking that after a few smiles and, maybe, 75 bucks, I'd be driving away... $280 later I was still waiting for my car:

But at least I could see her:


The guy was friendly enough -no use adding insult to injury I guess. Quick checkup on the car, no noticeable dings or scratches that I didn't know about. Quite a few that I do, but in all the right places. At least I'm back on the road.
After picking up the first monitor and en-route to the second I was back into a groove. I'd be home in thirty minutes. I'd be eating the breakfast I'd meant to make a few hours ago -pancakes, bacon & eggs and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese (yum!), all in good time to watch my first live Super Bowl. No more surprises for me, except, hopefully, that the Giants would actually beat the 'perfect' Patriots. This is when the craziest thing ever rolled up next to me.
Standing at a pedestrian cross-walk, where I'd politely stopped for a guy, now being in a good mood and all, I notice this guy in a huge truck waving at me. He's trying to tell me something. Not quite sure why, but I roll down my window to hear what he's got to say.
"Hey, you wanna get that ding in you car fixed?. I do body work, real good, and I'll give you a great deal!"
More then half of me was thinking 'you got to be kidding'. You can't just pull up to guys driving around, offering them body work on their cars. But a small voice (always starts small) piped in: 'You wanted to get it done. What if he is cheap. Could be a lucky break. It would help your resell value in 6 months when you leave'. Three seconds later I hear myself saying "Well, yeah, I'll pull over just up ahead and we'll talk". So pull over we do. The passenger guy gets out of this huge black truck, walks over to the left-rear of my car and sais "Hi I'm Tony. I can get that ding right out, got everything with me right here, tools, paint, you name it. No problem"
Now I'm thinking 'what are you doing even talking to this guy'. You were almost done with the hassle this day. This close to food and the game. Now you are talking to some Tony who wants to do things to your car here and now. A guy that came out of nowhere? Get Real! So I say "Well, actually, this ding is nothing, come look at the other side"
"Ohh, that's a real one. Let me and my brother do this one and I'll throw the left side in for free. You do this at a body shop and it'll run you maybe eight, nine hundred bucks. I'll do you, ehh, three hunnerd fifty."
Absolutely not! Walk away. You are going to get robbed, maybe end up walking home. No good can come out of this. Besides, you don't have $350, 'specially after getting your car from the impound lot!
"Well man, that's a great offer. And I can see from the tools you are showing me that you are the real deal, but I just don't have $350." This is where I was going to stop talking. "I could do, maybe, $150, but if you accept that you wouldn't be as good as you say"
"One fifty? You sure man? Ahh, that's too bad really. Ehh. Thing is, it's my daughter's birthday tomorrow and I just need the extra cash. Gonna get her a power wheel! Got my brother here working on game-day and everything. You sure you got just a hunnerd fifty?... Well, uhh.. I'll do it man!"
Damn. The hundred fifty was my exit strategy. Now what? I should still walk right... At best they are going to screw up your car. Worst case you are dead within the hour (ok, bit over dramatic). But the thing is.. It will cost almost a grand at the body shop. The mechanic that worked on your car, this good guy, said as much. Damn my Dutch upbringing! always looking for a deal. If something sounds too good to be true, then it is. Walk away. Even if the guy seems kinda ok, now that the shock has worn off. Even if your city-honed buls##t meter is reading green. Walk away.
"OK man. Let's do this. I'll drive to Sunset blvd. Park it there. You guys do what you say you can and we'll go by the ATM on Taraval and I'll be able to pay you. Start with the little ding first so I can see you know what your doing"
What am I doing here? Sure, I know the ATM on Taraval is right next to the Police station. Sure Sunset is so busy that at the first sign of trouble I can run into the street and create enough commotion to scare off anyone. But still.
Truth is I was hooked on the novelty of it all. The slim chance this was actually going to go down as presented. Too good of a story. So of we went.

Upon arrival the brothers got busy, and I started with a few covert shots of their truck. They had not seen the camera yet, and I wanted something to show the cops if it came to that:

Tony & Tommy (nom-de-plume? most likely..) were an amicable set of guys and soon I was taking pictures of the whole operation:

Tony even had his daughters name, Bambi, tattooed on his arm, complete with the Disney rendition of a baby deer. Didn't go so far as to shoot that one though..
Called Phin to share the crazy story and let her know I was running an hour later. She seemed to think the situation was a bit bizarre, but reacted more to the hour-later part. Fair enough, we were supposed to be having pancakes by now.
Eventually I did get home. In one piece. With the monitors I had set out to get. With a car that had been fixed up like I drove it through MTV's 'Pimp my Ride' shop. And with time to spare before The Game so I could get us a Serious Helping of food going.
Amazing.
I won't go into a big play-by-play of the Super Bowl. Those who care, already know what happened. Suffice to say that 'my guys', the G-men, who were the xx-point underdogs going in, managed to kick some 'almost-perfect' Patriot butt and came out victorious! : Giants 17- Patriots 14

A cost - benefit of the day might look something like this:
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Spent

Taxi: $22.50
Impound lot: $280
Tony&Tommy: $150

Saved

Monitors: $100
Bodywork: $850

-Being here for this day? : Priceless.
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So what about the lesson? Can 'Que Sera, Sera' sum it up? Nope, don't think so. It's more like:

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You make your own luck.
You make your own mistakes.
Deal with it.
Pay more attention to signs.
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