Three is the lucky number

I just got three parking tickets. Three. All at once. On my scooter! The problem is that they were all totally legit, and I can’t contest them in traffic court.

I found this awesome bike rack on lower Michigan Avenue that was like footsteps from my office. I thought it was the perfect place to lock up. So did a few others. And that was probably my undoing, attracting unwanted attention from the law by having three scooters at one bike rack.

Ticket #1: “Illegally parked motor vehicle on sidewalk.” Unfortunately, this is completely by the book, and it is totally illegal to park any motorized thingy on the sidewalk, but I usually cheat and get away with it. Bummer I got caught. I also heard that the police were going to crack down on illegally parked scooters and motorcycles that they found on sidewalks. Places the target squarely on my bike, repeat sidewalk offender.

Ticket #2: “No or improperly displayed city sticker.” In Chicago, you have to have a special sticker on your car that is basically a tax on city drivers. For motorcycles and scooters, the sticker is impractical, so the city issues a metal badge. In the seven years I’ve been riding, I’ve never had a city badge. It’s a calculated risk, a chance I’ve been willing to take since usually the cops don’t pay much attention to scooters. Bummer I got caught. But I still saved money over all those years of having no city badge in comparison to one ticket.

Ticket #3: “Expired vehicle registration.” Yep, another calculated risk. My license plate expired in June, and we’re moving to Florida in August. I chose not to renew my plates at the cost of one year since I’ll just have to pay for another year once I move to Florida. Again, the police rarely pay attention to scooters, so I thought I could skate. Bummer I got caught.

Walking up to my bike that day, I saw the orange parking ticket glaring on my speedometer. “What?” I shouted to myself. “How did I get a ticket?” And then I got closer: “Oh my god, there’s another ticket!” And then I realized, that, yes, there was a third. Astonishment. There were so many parking tickets that the issuing officer had to get creative on where to place them. Two were tagged on my seat.

After the initial shock, I realized my husband was going to kill me. And then I thought of how preposterous it was to get three tickets at once, and that the situation was so absurd as to be hilarious. “What’s the funniest way to show my husband three parking tickets?” I asked myself. First I considered using lolcats speak from the website I Can Has Cheezburger? One lolcat construction went something like, “I can has fiscal problem?” Or maybe (“mebbe” in lolcat), “I can has cash floe problem?”

Giddy on my three-ticket problem and its absurdity, I settled on the awesomest revelation I could think of: a fan. I would walk into our apartment where my husband would be on the couch playing videogames. I would hold the tickets stacked, facing my husband, so it would look like one ticket. Then when he shouted, “You got a parking ticket?” I would fan one over so it looked like two tickets. Then when he shouted, “You got two parking tickets??” I would fan the last over, revealing that I had three tickets.

I’m not good at jokes, though, and I usually laugh so hard at myself that I can’t pull off a prank. I walked into the apartment, chuckling, with the closed ticket fan in place. As I bent over to set my helmet down, I showed the tickets in profile, which apparently revealed something to my husband: “You got two tickets??” he shouted.

I laughed, and I shook my head. I carried on with the plan. I fanned the second ticket over, and he just stared at me, mouth open in surprised anger. Then I fanned the third ticket over, and I laughed hysterically at my joke, “No! I got three tickets!”

Stunned outrage from my husband, knee-slapping humor for me. He was not amused. I told him my lolcats joke to see if that one worked better. Nope. He was not having fun with the parking tickets. I could see the little financial wheels behind his eyes turning and grinding, thinking, “We can’t afford this. SHE can’t afford this. She’s going to make me pay!” Yep. I was going to make him pay.

After he calmed down, I explained that this was hilarious because it was so outrageous to get three parking tickets at once, and he eventually saw my side of the story. We discussed the financial risks we took with city badges and license plates, and he agreed with my calculation that despite receiving three tickets, we were still ahead on the financial obligation of legal scooter ownership.

Although I enjoyed laughing at three parking tickets, it’s a joke I’d rather have skipped. The only lolcats to describe the end result: “I no has root canal munees?”