If you've been keeping score, Thursday, February 4 marked the birth date of our second son, Samuel. The following article gives more detail but I could let it pass how grateful I am to the good city workers in this fair town.
They do the coolest thing.
At the hospital they set aside parking spots for folks arriving with mommies-to-be who are in the throes of labour. So, you can whip into the lot - trying to be solicitous and ignore the banshee wailing and streaming imprecations of the woman who got into the car as your wife and is emerging as a character from a Hitchcockian thriller - park without hassle and mosey on in to the maternity ward.
The greatness doesn't stop there 'cause after you've gotten your wife into the hospital some really incredibly brilliant and thoughtful parking warden (they must be brilliant - how else could you do the job?) stops by your car in the maternity spot and leaves a gift certificate for you in the amount of $25.00.
Isn't that the coolest thing ever.
It looks just like this.
Uh, now, upon closer inspection this isn't a gift certificate at all is it?
No, this is a parking ticket.
I was just too g.d. inconsiderate to stop on my way into the hospital with my wife doubled over with contractions to buy parking. What a complete a-hole I am.
"Hold on there honey. Just tuck that crowning head back inside for a moment while I make sure that the city gets their fair share. What's that?
You're in pain? C'mon. Can't be that bad after all the people in parking would have the foresight to think that the dad-to-be might be a little bit otherwise engaged wouldn't they?"
What a pathetic joke. I do hope someday that the marginally intelligent oaf with the over-inflated sense of authority that this glorified security guard gets to take his wife to hospital and then has the good sense to have her wait while he plunks his loonies and toonies into the machine.
Or, maybe this is a woman parking control officerette. She should be especially proud to support the sisterhood.