Doylestown Rocks

While I was at the job interview at the cabinetry shop, I got a parking ticket for an expired meter. Stupid of me. You get an hour for a quarter in Doylestown. I should have just dropped in fifty cents instead of only one quarter. But I didn't. And when I got back to the car, there was a little yellow envelope on my windshield.

The fine?

Two dollars.

Two dollars!

I can't imagine that revenue from that pays the salary of the people who walk around writing the tickets. I slipped two bills into the envelope and dropped it in the handy metal boxes placed there by the Borough of Doylestown for that purpose. Oh, and I've never not found a parking space in the block where I want to go. The next time I spend an hour and a half touring the West Village looking for a parking spot it's gonna be pretty arduous.

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