“Park Dirty for Me” Cornell Parking Officers Like It Nasty

STEWART LOT—Following growing resentment against Cornell University’s fleet of parking enforcement officers, the ticketing troop formed Parking Anonymous, a support group to share and work out the unique horrors for those whomst get a little too excited at the sight of a dirty, nasty, unforgivably sexy parking violation.

Phil Jackson, 44, a single man living on the outskirts of Ithaca and Trumansburg shared a harrowing tale of the life in the day of a Cornell parking enforcement officer.

“It was back in October of ’21,” said Jackson, his voice shaking. “I was out late as Apollo had just begun to dip beneath the mountains in the west, a golden blush coloring the sky red. There couldn’t be more than fifteen minutes until five. Normally, I stick to the high volume places where I could usually find the baddies: Stewart, the Hoy Garage, or if I was feeling lucky the Day Hall lot. I’m not a superstitious parking enforcer, but that day I had this feeling.”

“I was walking alongside Barton, when I saw her across the street nestled between two Cornell IT trucks. I was familiar with the place: No parking before 10 pm, and it was barely cracking 4. When I looked at her, she was the shining example of all things good and bad. As pink as a rare steak, inked up with the innocent face of the notorious Kitty White. At once, I knew she didn’t park there often. A car like that with an SC Commuter permit? Impossible.”

“I set after her immediately, mind racing. Up to that point, it had been a quiet week filled with parking-next-door type violations. But this was the type of violation that kept you up thinking about her months later. To be frank, I’d seen this baddie around campus before. She was my white whale, my Moby-Dick, and I was her Captain Ahab–and boy did I intend to penetrate her with my harpoon.”

“I pulled out my phone, already scrolling through my contacts. This pinkette had been a bad, bad girl. Didn’t she know she had parked in a towable area? My hand itched to write a big, fat ticket. $200? $300? Then a slight movement in the car alerted me as the winds of fate shifted. I narrowed my eyes into my best Clint Eastwood impression. Great Barrier Reef! There was still a person in that car! I picked up my pace, my confident victory stroll shifting into an awkward half-walk half-sprint. I was two hundred feet away and she awoke, headlights staring straight into my soul. Faster, I broke out into a full sprint. Alas, when I was just fifty feet away she pulled away, and I stood there as she drove away with my heart. When I see her around campus, all I can think about is how she’s the one who got away.”

The meeting ended soon after with the customary sharing of Pixar Cars 2 fanfiction.

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