Like many families in Colorado, my wife is forced to deal with household budgetary planning.
Fact is, my reckless and immature hand ling of money (books before bread!) and real-life economic illiteracy precipitated the need for a new family COO.
Food, utilities, mortgage and car payments are all traditional financial files, but in the Harsanyi household there is a living testament to irresponsibility: a specially designated (and swelling) folder titled “Dave’s Tickets.”
Needless to say, I wasn’t surprised to learn that Denver has issued $114 million in ticket fines the past five years.
It only reinforces my belief that Denver Parking Management is run by Sith Lords, hiding out somewhere near Denver International Airport, where there is an abundance of space for everything but extra parking.
No doubt, Denverites accept paying to park on a public street or private lot.
Most of us don’t even mind searching, on hands and knees, for some loose change or folding a dollar bill into three-hundred-fiftieths so we can slip it into one of those obnoxious slots.
But Parking Management’s mission is to manage the city’s parking resources “to improve traffic flow and access to businesses,” not bring a reign of terror upon Denver drivers.
It issued 470,000 tickets for parking-meter violations alone in 2003-04.
How slapping yellow boots on tires and guaranteeing a car’s immobility for a couple of days eases traffic flow or access to business is still a mystery.
But an even deeper mystery is how these shock troops with yellow envelopes – handy plastic wrappers when it’s raining – can sense the exact millisecond your meter’s time is up.
Why are they so merciless?
This ruthlessness is evident in the fact that they target the most innocent among us. Preying grounds include the Children’s Museum and Children’s Hospital.
The children, for God’s sake.
All this, as if the thorny undertaking of parking within 10 miles of your office weren’t tough enough. For me, the search for parking can initiate full-speed screeching U-turns or Evel Knieveling it through a back alley to head off some punk after my spot.
Yet it’s after I find parking that the confusion begins in earnest.
One you’ve found a spot, please make sure you’re between designated lines – these people calculate inches – and if your time limit has elapsed, move your vehicle at least 100 feet.
Then there are the signs. Recently, I found myself parked on Lincoln staring for 10 minutes at what might as well have been a slate of hieroglyphics.
I couldn’t figure out what they wanted. And I’ve visited the Parking Management website “with easy to find answers to all your parking questions.”
(Should we have “parking” questions?)
OK. Is July 4 considered a holiday? Do I need to pay you Sith Lords?
City’s explanation: “If any of the holidays enumerated above shall fall upon a Sunday, then the Monday following shall be considered as the holiday. If any of the holidays so enumerated above shall fall upon a Saturday, then the preceding Friday shall be considered as the holiday.”
Wow. That’s an “easy answer.”
Yet, with all the problems in Denver proper, the most infuriating situation resides at DIA, where 18,000 parking tickets were issued.
First of all, DIA isn’t in Denver; it’s in Kansas. How insulting that in the Western plains – where on a clear day you can literally see forever – not only must you pay for parking, but often there is none to be had.
It’s simply twisted that a metro columnist should have to orbit the airport dozens of times, with an unobstructed view of Missouri, searching for parking until his car’s “empty” light pops on.
Yet, during this maddening loop, I did hatch a plan for revenge: With $114 million, Denver can buy plenty of tar and concrete. Let’s get those Sith Lords and their Army of Darkness paving.
Maybe afterward, some valet parking.
I think it’s only fair.
David Harsanyi’s column appears Monday and Thursday. Reach him at dharsanyi@denverpost.com or 303-820-1255.
