I Can't Find It

I know it's here.

At least, it was here.

But now it's gone.

As John Hiatt sings, "Gone, like my last paycheck-- gone, gone away... gone, like the car I wrecked... gone, gone away!"

Yeah, it's like that.

See-- I'm due in traffic court this afternoon, and the one single, solitary piece of evidence that I could use to exonerate myself is missing. Because, um, my wife and I are fucking slobs.

Remember that quaint and jovial post about searching in vain for the auto loan papers for my wife's car?

Well, yeah...

I wrote that back in August, and things haven't improved much. Because, today, I'm searching in vain for the placard that was on the windshield of our car that permitted us to park for unlimited time at a metered parking spot in downtown Philly during Rosh Hashanah while we were at services. We got a ticket anyway.

So, I said that I was going to fight it, and that this parking placard would be the key to my defense as I stood humbled before a (hopefully Jewish) judge.

But, of course, it's not here anymore. It existed on our desk since Rosh Hashanah... but somhow, at some point, it got lost. There is a menu from a pizza parlor (I know, nobody calls them pizza "parlors" anymore. At least I didn't say "parlour.") There's also a Zinsser SoftGrip wallpaper scraper sitting on our desk, even though this house was successfully bereft of all wallpaper back in August. There's lots of pens and a stuffed turtle, a digital camera, lots of old checkbooks. There's a gray, squishy brain that you're supposed to squeeze when you get stressed out about not being able to find the parking placard, but I just blog instead. There's the instruction manual for my newish cellphone that I've never read-- lots of orange sticky notes reminding me about things I don't even understand anymore. And, the latest addition to the clutter: a Pirates of Penzance program!

(It was a great show, by the way.)

Oh, and there's a pair of wire-cutters. Don't ask me why. We don't often engage in the act of wire-cutting.

Of course, the one thing that's still here is the actual ticket itself. Which is awesome and really helpful.

So, I'm seriously considering skipping traffic court. It's going to cut right into the middle of my work day and I'm going to be found guilty, so I might as well just send in a check for the $36.00 and be done with it.

I mean, everybody likes to fight the man, but you don't commonly do that without ammunition. Going into court without that placard is like going into battle without your boots or your moustache.

(By the way, immediately after curtain calls yesterday, I shaved off my gargantuan walrus 'stache and Civil War-era sideburns. I am deliciously young again. And I can't find my fucking parking placard.)

I've read and re-read the notice from the City of Philadelphia Parking Violation Branch. It states that, if I fail to appear, I "will be liable for the full amount of all applicable fines and penalties." To me, that means the cost of the ticket, unless they tack on some sort of delinquent bastard fee for not showing up for a hearing I requested, and then I'll be sad.

I'll probably end up going empty-handed, because that's the kind of guy I am. I'm not one to throw sand in the face of the judicial system, even if I am irresponsible, haphazard, and full of pens, squeezie brains, and old sticky-notes.