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FacebookBeen kind of a slow week–two weeks. Nothing interesting happened to me. nothing to complain about. Despite the drought, I still feel compelled to post something. Instead of resorting to reruns, I’ll dig up something I wrote a few months back but never posted. Just ’cause it didn’t happen yesterday doesn’t mean it isn’t interesting.
Who am I kidding? None of this is interesting.
Last night some idiot parked in my driveway. I was angered because it’s a total sign of disrespect. I’m not talking about a designated parking spot with a “reserved” sign. I don’t mean parked in front of my house. I don’t even mean parked in an area that all of my neighbors and I have come to accept as ‘my spot.’ I mean he literally parked in my driveway. There’s no grey area. It’s the spot right in front of my house separated from the street. It has my personal property in front and to the side of it. This arsehole knew exactly what he was doing when he parked in my driveway–it’s not the sorta mistake one can accidentally make.
Imagine the frustration one feels when coming home from work to find a stranger’s car parked in your driveway. Immediately, my blood started boiling and I kicked the car in the tire–hoping the car alarm would go off and the owner would appear. I figured a car as new and expensive looking as that one had to have an alarm. Unfortunately, all I did is hurt my toe because the car made no other sounds.
I was pissed. I know from past experiences that if I tried to call the police or a tow truck, they wouldn’t move the vehicle because legally, I don’t own the home (the downside of being a tenant). I wanted to go into my house and grab a bunch of nails to toss around the tires…maybe even an old softball bat and take batting practice on the windshield. Out of frustration, I snapped on the door handle…and to my surprise, the door opened.
That’s when I got an idea. I was gonna put the car in neutral and push it out of my driveway. Unfortunately it was an automatic and when I took the parking brake off, the car wouldn’t budge. It’s a shame ’cause that would have been very fulfilling. I’d push the unwanted car out of my spot and into the street. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be done.
I explored the car for some sorta ID (I wanted to know the identity of this trespasser). A search of the glove box and center console did not help reveal the car’s owner–but I did find some marijuana in the glove box along with the necessary paraphernalia to smoke it.
There was also purse on the passenger seat. It was dark outside and difficult to see so I took the purse in my house in hopes of finding an ID (and a flashlight). If I knew whose car it was, I’d have something to show managment. If the police wouldn’t tow the car now, at least I could know who’s parking in my driveway and report them to the office. This wasn’t the first time I found a car in my driveway. The vehicles change; but the office policy doesn’t. They can’t do anything unless they know whose car it is.
That’s when security showed up. I was hoping since he worked for the complex, maybe he could call the police and they could do something about the misplaced car. I told the rent-a-cop my situation and he was sympathetic…but he was also powerless. He said to me he wasn’t authorized by the complex to tow vehicles. He could write a note and leave it on the window–but that’s the best he could do.
A note?!?!? People don’t learn their lessons by a note. This douchebag-pothead wasn’t going to realize how much he inconvenienced me with a note. He needed to be penalized–lose money out of pocket. Maybe miss an important meeting somewhere (although the only important meetings he had were probably pot buys). I wanted him to hafta get his car out of a tow yard. Pay impound fees. Learn from his mistake. Face the consequences. Tell his parents. And that’s when I got an idea. He’s a simple, stupid pothead–probably wouldn’t know a damn thing about cars…
So I disconnected the battery.
With the battery disconnected, the car wouldn’t start…and he’d have one of two options: get it towed home or be forced to spend the night wherever he was (assuming he didn’t live in the park). If he did live in the complex, I’d have ample proof of him parking in my driveway and I’d report him to the office in the morning. Even if he didn’t, the office could have his car towed. Either way, his life was as inconvenienced as mine…and punishment was served.
It took me four seconds. I locked up my house and was about to leave when the kid strolled up to the car. He was pretty much everything you’d imagine. Young, dumb-looking–stupid shaggy hair that made him look like an idiot. He was with a female companion who looked just as meek. I yelled a couple of profanities as them as I walked away. Called him an idiot and told him he shouldn’t be parking on other people’s property. I don’t know if he was stoned or just stupid, but the kid didn’t say a word.
I was headed over to The Girlfriend’s house when my conscious kicked in. It was one thing to leave an in operable car sitting in my driveway when I wasn’t home. It’s another to know it wasn’t going to start and why it wasn’t gonna start while the guy was still sitting out in front of my house. If I fixed it, he could leave and that would be the end of it. From the scolding I gave him, he already knows that he shouldn’tve parked there. He heard it from me; he heard it from security.
I initially disconnected the battery because I wanted him to face consequences–to know that what he did was wrong. If he left in the middle of the night, he wouldn’tve known how much he bothered me. But since I got an opportunity to tell him–since security told him–the point was made. Leaving his car inoperable when I could fix it…it just sorta felt like being a jerk.
I went back to my house. The douche and the guard were sitting there, confused because the car wouldn’t start. “Pop the hood,” I said without acknowledging them. He did what I said without question–like I was the ultimate authority on life. If a stranger told me to pop the hood of my car, I’d ask why; he didn’t–probably because he was too scared or stoned. “I disconnected the battery so I could have your car towed in the morning. You shouldn’tve parked here.”
“Why did you park here,” the guard asked as if the question immediately came to him. I know little about rent-a-cop policies and training, but that woulda been the first words out of my mouth.
“To see my pregnant friend.”
I guess that’s code for buying pot nowadays.
I quickly put the cable on the battery terminal and the lights immediately came on. I walked away, again muttering profanities at the kid. The car started behind me…and I went on with my business.
Later on that night, I came home and found the purse still sitting on my kitchen table. With all the chaos going on, I forgot to give it back to them. I don’t want the purse and it’d be tough to explain to The Girlfriend why another woman’s purse is in my house. But it was in my possession…and I’d hafta take solace in that being their punishment.
After rummaging through the purse, I realized the trespassers were every bit the low-scum that I thought they were. The girl had no money in her Sublime wallet (probably because it all went to pot)–but she did have numerous business cards to smokeshops throughout Orange County. I found an ID–she was born in 1990–which means both her and her counterpart were both still high school idiots. I also found a digital camera with numerous pictures on it…of her looking stoned.
It’s kind of a shame. As far as I can tell, she comes from a family that isn’t the same low-level scum she is. The house looks nice and she clearly has parents who provided for her (an expensive-looking car alarm was on her keys). That’s not to say she has good parents or comes from a loving home. She’s just wasn’t raised by potheads or people too poor to provide for her. Basically she’s your typical, stuck up, rich OC girl–only instead of fashion, she prefers to identify herself with pot.
The kind of person who would selfishly park in a driveway that wasn’t hers.