We woke up a little before 6:30 am. Gill’s plan was to drag me through another workout, then head off to the Jersey office. My plan was to go back to bed. She peeked out the bedroom window to measure the day, and noticed that the Mini was no longer 12 feet from the fire hydrant. I went outside to provide a second opinion. Hell, it wasn’t even on the same street.
After a few phone calls to various government agencies, we learned that our car had been towed, and we could reclaim it for approximately the cost of a monthly parking permit – which we were now seriously considering.
We headed up to 12th Avenue and 39th Street to pay our debt to society and get the car back so Gill could go to work. I was escorted through the pound to get my vehicle ownership from the car in order to prove it was, in fact, my car. During our hike (it’s a big pound), the officer told me that Hurricane Sandy left the entire lot under water, and most of their towing fleet was lost. I considered sharing with him that it was unfortunate the entire fleet hadn’t been lost, ’cause then I might still have an awesome parking spot just 12 feet from the fire hydrant in front of our apartment. I chose to remain silent, as is my right. Turns out just 3 more feet from the fire hydrant can save you a lot of time and money.
Mordecai and I saw Gill off to work from the tow pound, then decided to check out Astro’s dog run which was only a few blocks away. We had a hard time finding Astro’s, as it’s tucked into the labyrinth of entry/exit ramps for the Lincoln Tunnel. We kept circling, knowing we had it surrounded, but even as we tightened our dragnet, Mordecai and I were becoming discouraged. Nearly exhausted, we finally arrived at the gate. Locked. Members only. An elitist cocker spaniel barked mockingly at us through the fence. An elitist cocker spaniel’s owner pretended not to hear or see anything. We turned around and started the long walk home.
I was on my own for lunch, which almost always means burgers and fries, so I went down to Five Guys in the Village. Good burger, and enough fries to last the rest of the month. Or at least a dinner.
Most of the afternoon was lost to a failed effort to get my office phone up and running, and trying to find some parking. Got a few leads on some garages.
After Mordecai ate his dinner, we headed over to the Union Square dog run. Played some fetch, made some new friends, tried to fit into a wading pool – his new routine. We walked back along West 15th Street, and I heard a plaintive tenor sax playing jazz from the open window of a 5-storey walkup. That was a true New York moment.
Ate the rest of those fries for dinner, then went out determined to nail down a parking plan. I was able to find a garage for the month, just a little more than a block from home. We’re golden.
When I got back to the apartment, there was a copper-coloured Mini Cooper parked in front. Nice looking car. I’d say he’s about 12 feet from the fire hydrant.