A Ticketable Offense? Funny.

I often say that I would really like to become a police officer simply to hand out traffic violation tickets.  I would go to the interview, and when they asked “Why do you want to be a cop?”, I’ll respond “Because I want to give out speeding tickets.  Especially in playground zones.”

I don’t know if that would be a positive response or if they would ask me to leave and put me on watch.

I try not to identify with Claire on Modern Family too much, because she’s really neurotic and crazy and the actress seems to get skinnier by the day, but I am with her when she posts the “Slow Down Your Neighbours” signs.  I am also a fan of stop signs.

Since I’m not a police officer, and since I’m not actually interested in making up grammatically questionable posters and putting them around the neighbourhood, I have another way of dealing with my desire to correct other people’s driving mistakes.  Specifically, parking mistakes.

Because, you know, this is my business.

Bob and I started writing tickets.

It’s pretty official looking when we do it.  I have this little notepad, and some reflective sunglasses, and a clicky pen.

“Click click click”

“Lessseee here.  The driver of this SUV is under the impression that if there is a fire, their vehicle will become sentient and remove itself from in front of this hydrant.  Seems to me that automatic sentience is not a feature on this particular model.  Better write a ticket.”

And we write funny stuff, like “Ghost fire trucks are not a thing.  Fires are real.  Move your car or be vaporized.”

Sometimes I draw comics and leave them for people.  Mostly the comics are of what I think the driver looks like and what they were thinking when they parked poorly.

I figure this is a win-win situation.  We win, because we feel vindicated about the situation and like we’ve accomplished something.  At the very least, we walk away laughing instead of enraged.

The driver wins, because instead of us calling a tow truck, they get a funny message or comic that reminds them of the laws that they apparently have forgotten and they can drive away a better person.

I imagine they are received something like this…

“Dum de dum.  Back I walk to my car…”

(pause)

“What is this small paper on my windshield?”

(reading)

“Oh my.  I am indeed parked like a jackass.  I am certainly in the wrong.  How kind of this talented person to point out my faults and allow me the opportunity to correct my behaviour.  I appreciate this fine artistry and the lesson.”

Yeah, that’s almost certainly what happens.

Moral of this story: Learn to park or be subject to my passive-aggressive wrath.