Living in the city comes with many responsibilities.. my least favorite being: PARKING. Thankfully, I don’t live downtown, but it is still a battle royale to get a good spot considering it is one side of the street parking. So as the New Year begins, that means I needed to buy a new parking permit. Plus, I had to pay off the ridiculous 55.00 worth of other tickets I have for “parking too close to an alley”.. I’m calling shenanigans, but whatever. Anyway, so the closest place to buy my permit is at the 2nd District Police Station.

On the 1st of the month, I attempted to get my parking pass and of course there was a line out the door.. fail. This morning, I drove past and it was like a miracle! Only ONE car outside! Now was my chance. I walk in and start to use the kiosk (goodbye $114.00, you were fun while you lasted) As I fumble around at the kiosk pressing random incorrect buttons on the screen and putting my credit card into the machine the wrong way, I realize a bunch of really sketchy people start to pour in. That’s when I discovered why people don’t go to the Police Station at 9:00 a.m. Let me explain via conversation I overheard.. (for the sake of privacy, I’ll call the subject Randall.. haha)

Parole Officer: How long you been out now? 2 weeks?

Randall: Yeah man

Parole Officer:  Have you even looked for jobs? I know it’s tough, but you have to try.

Randall: Not yet.. Can I see my girlfriend?

Parole Officer: Sure, but only in a non-violent way. That’s how you get yourself in trouble. If you run away from the cops again like at BIG LOTS, you’re going to be going back to jail again.

…what the eff. Where am I? Cudahy?

(I would probably run away from that Big Lots too)

I was finally finished at the kiosk, so I decided I should probably get to work. On my way out, there were 2 SUPER sketchy dudes walking in to see the P.O. (obviously it is too difficult to say, Parole Officer) They were looking fresh to death so they decided they should approach me and make some awkward babygirl commentary. I pretended not to hear it, but thankfully another random felon came in and they knew each other. The last thing I heard before walking out the door:

Sketchy Guy 1: Man dawwwwg we need to stop gettin’ caught like this

Felon 2: Yeah maaaaannn, we need to stop seein’ each other at the police station.

Now, I’m all about hating on authority and eff the police and whatnot, but when you start making friends at your parole meetings, I think you have a problem. Now for some inspiration: