With my hopes for appearing on a game show down the drain, I drove back to the Hollywood Walk of Fame on Wednesday afternoon to buy more souvenirs for my family and friends. (Coincidentally, Grauman's was hosting the world premiere of Will Ferrell's latest movie, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.) It was rush hour, and I put 50 cents in the meter, giving me a half-hour to run my errands. When I returned, I was shocked to find a $35 parking ticket under the windshield wiper for an expired meter.
I called the telephone number on the back of the ticket, but all I got was an automated response. A mixture of anger and panic swept over me, for I knew the ticket was unwarranted -- especially since I fed the meter and returned in a timely fashion. I saw a police scooter down the block from where I was parked -- and I assume the officer in it was the one who gave me the ticket -- but I didn't approach it because the damage was done. I took several deep breaths before deciding not to dwell on this setback, figuring I'd address it the next day.
