Get A Proper Job, Dog, he said to the parking cop

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Get A Proper Job, Dog, he said the parking cop







"I leave the bar feeling confident and excited by the prospect of checking into rehab. Back in my apartment, I strip off my clothes, change into some sweats, crack open an ale and drink it quickly. I play early Blondie on the stereo. The more I think about it the more I like the idea of this rehab thing. There's no telling who I might see there. And Jim's right, it is the sort of story you can laugh about for years."
Augusten Burroughs, Dry.


There were shadows he wanted to box against, shadows from a chaotic life which he fought back by simple routine, a rising tide of darkness. There wasn't going to be any straight answers. He dreamt of retiring; and that first Sunday, he always worked Sundays, going to the office, begging: I've made a terrible mistake. How am I going to survive? How am I going to feed the kids? What was I thinking? Why did I ever say I would leave? I need freelance work immediately. These were moments, these were days, of uncertainty, of chaos, of tragedy. Suzy was out the front of the house last night, crying in the car, worried that she will have to move and that the real estate agent won't sign a new lease. Borrowing money off Sammy. For once it wasn't just her, that's Sydney these days, pressure everywhere, difficult to survive, high, read outrageous, rents.

A city divided into haves and have no ts. Those who have their own homes and those who do not. The wages of a normal job just gets you absolutely nowhere. The mortgage belt is struggling to cope. They talk of a two-tier economy; and they're right. There's spectacular amounts of wealth; enormous stone piles perched around the harbour, luxury coating every bay, inlet and alcove. And then there's the 20 kilometres of featureless suburbs to the west, where people build their lives off from the freeways, sheltering from the choking traffic; in dead ends and forgettable streets nobody has ever loved; and mortgage payments have become impossible. The city has become more and more difficult to live in. Which is one reason, I guess, why I have a pathological hatred of parking cops.

They are everywhere in this town, vicious parasites out to get every cent they can. Over the last few years the signs restricting parking have spread further and further. The ticket only; which means you have to pay, signs have also spread everywhere. Essentially there's nowhere to park and a parking policeman, or dog as he thought of them, on every corner, waiting to pounce; lurking in back streets, watching, waiting. Their eternal vigilance made working in the inner-city almost an impossibility financially. When he finally left Sydney there was a string of fines which kept filtering in for weeks. His final job had been so demanding that he would often forget to move his car every two hours; meaning that the $80 he incurred in fines for the day made going to work barely worth the effort.
There's no way back to any semblance of normality. A tidal wave of anger whooshes over him, instant fury.

Get a proper job, dog, he snarls as he walks past one of the uniformed bastards.
Often they pretend not to hear. But although they are trained not to respond to abuse from the public it usually works; they usually bite.
He had, after all, years of experience at working out what actually got under their skin.
It is a proper job, they puff, feebly.
Only a dog would do that job, he snarls. You'd have to be a complete creep. Why don't you do something that serves some useful purpose, instead of going around ruining everybody's day. You must have terrible karma.
May this curse follow you all the days of your life.
And if the children are nearby, he loudly instructs them: whatever you do in life, don't become one of them, a parking parasite. He spits out the words; he doesn't care how irrational his anger.

It's sad, it's vicious and it's pointless. But equally pointless is the mayor lauching an army of parasites onto the citizenry, zooming around in their white ranger cars, puffed up with their unifroms; lurking around corners waiting for you to stop for a minute in a Stop sign.

Every taxi driver tells stories of getting a $200 fine for stopping to pick up someone in a wheelchair. Or for helping to unload someone who is injured or disabled.

His hatred, too, stemmed from the chaos they had created in his life. When Sammy came home from hospital we used to park out the front of the house; and get tickets all the time because we didn't have a residents sticker. When we went to get a sticker
we were told that wasn't possible unless we paid all the back fines; which of course were enormous. So on and on it went; and it didn't matter how we remonstrated with the parking cops, he she or it, they'd stand there writing the tickets; their arrogant passivity projecting contempt. It's a miracle no one has gone out and shot a few of these bastards. If it was America they would have. You see it all over Sydney; people arguing with them, hopelessly, because it's always too late, they've already started writing the ticket and there's nothing they can do; they say. The fines are vastly out of proportion to the working wage, you can easily wipe out a day or two's efforts if you get caught. I got one for $435 once; a disabled parking zone I admittedly parked in for about half an hour because it was pouring rain, I was feeling sick and it was after ten at night. Bang, got you. Dogs, they're all dogs. And my part in all this? Forget it. They're dogs.

THE BIGGER STORY:

http://www.skynews.com.au/news/article.aspx?id=219365

Thousands of spectators lined the Sydney Harbour foreshore to farewell the QE2 ocean liner for the final time.

Sky News Reporter Terry Gallaway is a passenger aboard the QE2 and has shared moments of the majestical departure.

'I'm looking forward to a fabulous voyage and a fabulous departure from this city. It's the only city in the world that you can park a 84,000 tonne ship in the middle of the CBD,' Gallaway exclaimed.

'The QE2 is the last of the ocean liners. She's not a floating hotel like the others..... But she's a very capable ship. She's capable of 32 knots and cruises at 28 knots..., and is holding 1,800 guests,' he added.

First class passengers aboard the ship paid up to $250,000 for a ticket.

But as Gallaway revealed, first class passengers and 'sewage' passengers are both served the same food!

'Believe it or not, the menu is exactly the same,' confides Gallaway.

Earlier the 40 year old QE2 and its much younger royal sister, the Queen Victoria, made a historic passing of each other in Sydney Harbour.

The two giant ships saluted each other as they passed either side of Fort Denison with a sounding of their horns as Queen Victoria made her departure from the iconic harbour, and the QE2 took her place in Circular Quay.

It was a historic salute marking the two month old Queen Victoria's maiden visit to Sydney on her first around the world voyage and the final visit of the QE2, which made her first grand entrance into Sydney 30 years ago.

The historic passing comes almost a year to the day since the QE2 and the Queen Mary 2 passed each other in Sydney Harbour, sparking traffic chaos.

Queen Victoria's next stop is Brisbane, while the QE2 will head to Hobart and then Perth.

She will be decommissioned in November and will become a lavish floating hotel in Dubai.