Text and Ticket

I noticed this guy's relaxed pose as he sat in the back of the beer truck. He was supported by boxes of imported beer... Xingu Black beer from Brazil, Stella Artois from Belgium, Peroni Italian beer. He was most interested in what he was texting, completely absorbed.

I took a couple of shots, and went on my way, looking for other subjects on his side of the street. When I got to the front of the truck, a policeman was just finishing writing a ticket. He then placed it on the windshield of the illegal parked vehicle. The texter never knew what hit him.

I suspect the texter was not really responsible for the legality of the park (he looked too young to drive). He's probably the muscle who moved the beer. Still, I'm sure he will be held responsible. "What the hell were you doing while I was gone?!!!" Uh.... texting .

The Parking Ticket

While I usually take the train when I'm coming and going to Manhattan, occasionally I'll drag the car in. One weekend recently, I parked on a street with parking signs hard to locate or decipher. I found no nearby signs and when I glanced up half a block at the nearest posting, it looked to me that it only applied to a contained loading area for trucks. So, I parked my silver Subaru on the street with others in a spot that was safe.

Upon returning, a parking ticket was affixed to my windshield. I glanced around at the signage, and studied the closest sign again. Looking closely now, I saw that a portion of the sign, an arrow pointing in my car's direction, was obscured by a sticker. As I had my camera, I photographed the misleading signs along with my car's location to look at later after I studied the ticket at home.

The price tag was $95, not fair to me, as I made a reasonable effort to try to park legally. I found that the court was accessible, and I figured I might as well take a stab at fighting the ticket. Armed with my photos of the car and the signs I paid a visit at a lunch time.

The trip was incredibly efficient. I was in and out in 20 minutes. My time before the judge was cordial and friendly. Armed with my photos, I spread them out on his desk, explaining where my car was and how the signs had taken advantage of me (in my own humble manner and friendly).

The judge studied the shots, and nodded that he understood the confusion. He stroked his chin, and then scratched his head. "But, if only I could see that it's Duane Street" (where I had parked). "There's nothing here that proves that it is Duane Street". I immediately considered telling him to pull up Google Maps on his PC and go to the Streetview of Duane Street. You would be able to see all the stores I had shot. I figured that was not the way to handle a judge though.

He said, "This is what you need to do, if you want. Go back and take a picture of the Duane Street sign and every building on the block with their numbers. I'll give you an extension". He printed out instructions telling me how to take the pictures. It also explained that if there is one sign on the entire block, then it counts.

Figuring it was a new photo assignment, I took the challenge. Returning to the scene of the crime, I snapped 18 photographically boring pictures documenting the lay of the land (or Duane Street). Three quarters of the way up the block, I found a sign that seemed to indicate that there is no parking on the entire block. (Although I still think the confusion of the other signs contradicts that... to a reasonable person).

I have the digital version of the pictures here (the last one is here). But, I don't usually make prints, so they are still being printed. When I get the prints back, I'll see if I can convince the judge that I'm innocent.