A few odds and ends.

1.) I think I may knock off a few liquor stores so I can get the money to buy a laptop. I have this odd sense that it might encourage me to write more often, as I'm generally loathe to sit down at this archaic beast to do anything but watch (legally obtained?!) television shows or put on music. Desktop computers are really fucking boring now that I don't use one for gaming. And nobody really seems to IM anymore with the advent of Facebook and every other shitty community Web 2.0 outlet that's turned the internet into some boring self-interested high-school wankfest. Yawn! Tell you what, world, if I'm really interested in seeing nine-thousand pictures of you getting drunk with your friends, I'll leave you a note. By fuckin' e-mail. Not on your "wall".

(I don't really care that much, but since everyone uses Facebook and bugs me to use it, I like to rail against it as passionately and frequently as possible)

2.) I really wish the term "monolith" meant something else so it could be readily applied to all manner of situations. It's a great word, but so specific as to defy common usage (or, really, even infrequent usage). I've taken to referencing 2001: A Space Odyssey at inappropriate times just so I can vary between using the terms "monolith" and "obelisk" as many times a day as I can. Of course, then we'd just need to come up with a new term for a giant stone tower, and it would probably be even better and we'd be right back here again, and I'd be petitioning the fates to free this new term and re-shackled "monolith". Whatever.

3.) If I don't like Victoria when I move there, I think I might follow through on my backup plan and write NASA volunteering to man a one-way shuttle voyage into the far reaches of space. I doubt we'd get very far before I kicked it, but you never know. We'll say, with proper freeze-dried food, suitable entertainment (to stave off suicidal tendencies), and a bit of luck when it comes to serious disease, I could probably make ten to fifteen years. Now that I think about it, that's pretty fuckin' lame. Maybe I'll wait on this until they at least master space travel well enough to get me into another solar system.

4.) I'll write something in here again sometime in the next six months. Promise. And there won't be any more parking entries. The last one was boring, but I thought I'd let you all know how it ended anyway. Cheers!

Parking Revisited.

I have been forwarded your message to review. I will not try and match the length or tone of your message but I can agree with the violation and our reluctance to cancel it. We operate in many locations and while you may see this as a monopoly, we see it differently.

I'm unsure if you're being willfully obtuse or not when you misinterpret my original text, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're not. You seem to believe I suggested you have a monopoly on all pay parking; I did not. What I suggested was that you hold a monopoly on parking at Malaspina University-College. This is, I think, an irrefutable fact. The alternatives for anyone driving to campus are the following: park across the parkway off campus in a dirt field (which is often full and, when it's not, involves driving over a high curb and parking in the mud, more times than not) or parking off campus at the bottom of the mountain and hiking up it every day. I don't really care to argue this point, mind you, nor did I mean to offer it up as a point of debate in my original e-mail to you. I was using it only to illustrate that there really aren't all that many--if any--alternatives for those parking at Malaspina, meaning that they would have to, theoretically, accept whatever terms you applied to parking, or trust Nanaimo's horrendous and inept public transit system to get them to the campus on time (one bonus to this method, admittedly, is the chance to catch up on several hours of sleep each day).

We work for each one of our clients and in this particular case, we partner with Malaspina on all matters including the increase of parking and violation rates. As there are multiple meters on campus, we do require you to use another meter if one is experiencing issues. It does not require a circle tour of the campus, there are over 15 meters on campus and at any time the large majority if not all of them would be working. It is unfortunate but the onus is on the customer to display a valid receipt and let us know if they are unable to obtain one. At Malaspina, the chances of you not being able to obtain one at the myriad of meters would be inconceivable. All that said, I feel your dispute was heard but ultimately not accepted as grounds for cancellation of the violation.

First, I never suggested it would involve a "circle tour" of the campus. I did, however, suggest it would require a fairly lengthy walk. For instance, after noting that the meter in Lot L wasn't working, I would have had to return to my car (to lock the doors), then trudge all the way to the meter by the shellfish research building. If this was a thirty-second hundred-meter jaunt, it wouldn't be a big deal, really, but I maintain that it's unreasonable to expect that busy people should walk around for five to ten minutes because the parking machine isn't working--which, as I mentioned initially, happens with great frequency, a fact that no doubt benefits your company.

So why, exactly, should I be late for the function that I'm attending simply because your machine is incapable of accepting the money I was perfectly willing to pay? Though I suppose we're talking at walls here. You've been quite clear that you're unwilling to reconsider, and I'm certainly not interested in paying this ticket.

There is one final note: the car I was driving is not my car, incidentally, so it would be unproductive for you to go after said car's owners in order to get the recompense you feel you are owed, as they haven't even seen the ticket. As such, I feel it is only ethical for me to supply you with my own automobile information should you feel the desire to place me on some sort of list of incorrigible parking violators.

The Indecency of Pay Parking.

I've decided to start writing here again, with a clean slate. I make no promises as to the efficacy of this endeavour--and, in truth, don't care if I disappoint you with my neglect!--but will write here whenever I think of something interesting. As such, I present you a brief story followed by a letter.

The other day I was up at the Malaspina campus (I suppose I could call myself an alumni at this point, but not without feeling like I've entered some bizarre alternate reality) to attend the launch of the English Department's annual literary magazine. The soirée to launch the mag was organized by my lovely girlfriend, and though that would certainly be enough to ensure my attendance, the specter of a bar and some old friends I hadn't seen since graduating made for what I knew would be a pleasant afternoon and evening. And it was!

With one notable exception: when I arrived at the school--which is renowned for its lack of parking--I managed to grab a spot pretty much as far away from the festivities as humanly possible. No big deal, really. Unfortunately, the parking machine in the lot was out of service. Rather than head off on a one kilometer round-trip walk to purchase a ticket from another lot, I left my car, assuming that some kindness must exist deep underneath the tough exterior of the parking attendants. Apparently, however, all that exists deep in these soulless creatures is a hellish wasteland of charred bone.

In an effort to be nice--and I assure you I was--I contacted Robbins Parking the next day and informed them that I could not have reasonably purchased a ticket, given that the machine was broken. I was directed to their website, on which there is a handy form for filing complaints. I can only assume it's so prominent on their website because this sort of thing happens frequently, and they must respond reasonably. Buoyed by this grotesquely naive notion, I fired off a charitably polite form-email and waited patiently over the weekend. I was, as you may have guessed, sorely disappointed. Below you will find an edited version of the e-mail I received (I removed contact info and the like) and my rather uncharitable response, which you may peruse for your enjoyment.

What they said:

Thank you for your email regarding the violation that you received.

Unfortunately, whenever you park in any private lot you are agreeing to the
terms of that lot that are clearly posted on the sign. This includes going
to another meter to purchase a receipt or calling the number on the sign to
report the problem you are having when you are having it. This serves two
purposes: firstly, it protects you from receiving a violation, and secondly,
it allows us to send maintenance to verify and fix the problem.

Please remit a payment of $15 by April 15th, 2007 to avoid having to pay $30
after this date.

What I said:

Dear Robbins Customer Service Representative,

Thank you for your email regarding the violation that I received.

You make an interesting point vis a vis the assumed agreement of terms in a private parking lot. I must take issue, however, with your suggestion that I would be forced to agree to whatever terms are listed on your sign, however unreasonable. If, for example, Robbins Parking suggested, in clearly posted typeface on their sign, that cars parked without a receipt will be transformed into a dragon by means of magical energies, I would suggest that in addition to being a technical impossibility (to the best knowledge of modern science), this would be an unacceptable arrangement, even if legal precedent may or may not agree. Despite this, I suspect that people may still use your parking lot, but that you may receive a myriad of angry customer-service complaints when you put this clearly posted term into practice (as well as a few bewildered complaints, and several inconsolable ones from the grieving family members of incinerated parking lot goers).

So what we really have here is a question of whether or not your terms are reasonable. We'll set aside, for the briefest of moments, the irrefutable fact that Robbins Parking holds a monopoly on parking space around Malaspina University-College (of which there is precious little), that patrons of the U-C have no alternative choices and would, in point of fact, be forced to accept whatever terms you posted, up to and including the aforementioned act of transmutation. We'll even set aside the fact that since Robbins Parking took over the private parking at Malaspina, parking fines have increased dramatically, free night-time parking hours were eliminated, and jackbooted parking-lot militants prowl the parking lots in multitudes (these last few are, honestly, rather beside the point, but... as they might say in a courtroom, they go to the defendant's character, your Honour).

So, that considerable bit of verbiage aside, we return with great anticipation to the question: is it reasonable? Is it reasonable, given the time constraints on most people when they're on campus, to expect your patrons to set off on a one-kilometer round trip because your parking machine is out of order (again, as it has been probably 20% of the times I've been on campus)? Perhaps you think it is reasonable to inconvenience people to such a degree. Let's assume for a moment that this ghastly suggestion is as real as the nose on my stern face. Is it more reasonable to expect, say, a dozen parking-lot patrons to walk a kilometer to pay you a measly $2, or is it more reasonable to expect your jackbooted parking-lot attendant to spend fifteen seconds ascertaining whether the payment machine is in order and not throwing around parking tickets like confetti? Of course, I realize this is a cut-throat world and, by definition, a few throats are going to be cut. Of course, I realize that in the rush to sate our insatiable desire for capital, a few hearts will be broken. Of course, I realize all of these trappings of Mercantile Ethics 101, but I don't afford them the label "reasonable", and reject them as a matter of principle.

What remains, then, is a matter of principle. The meager $2 I was willing to exchange for parking at the University-College is of no consequence. And, truthfully, the $15 or the $30 (after three business days--one idly wonders if this increased payment after a few days is offered simply as a nicety or as a means of ensuring payment and not dissenting e-mails) means as little. But, out of principle alone, I'm afraid I can't consent to relinquishing these funds. I'm sure you understand, it being a cut-throat world and all. I can promise you, however, that the next time I am at Malaspina University-College and find myself in need of parking, I will purchase not one, but two tickets for my car, in order to pay my karmic debt to you. I can offer you no proof to this end, unfortunately, except my word as a gentleman. I offer only one caveat: if by some miracle of modern science or magic realism your company does acquire the means to transmute automobiles into other lifeforms, I humbly request that you ignore my two parking tickets (perhaps they cancel each other out?) and leave an awe-inspiring pink dragon in my car's stead. I'll even pay the $30 if you leave a Dragon Saddle™ for me to use, as I'm not very skilled when it comes to riding mythical beasts at this point and would like to ensure that I get home safely.

Thank you for your time.

I'll let you all in on the response, should there be any.