"I guess we both have long stories."
"We all do. 'Long stories' are just a part of life."
Both students finished their meals. Mike mentioned that he had to go to work, and Ruthie replied that she had a class. They got up to turn in their trays to the kitchen. They felt very uncomfortable at that moment, partly because of the very strange conversation that they had just experienced, and partly because they were nervous about saying goodbye. They were uneasy about being together, but subconsciously they did not want to separate.
"Are you ticketing today?"
"You bet. Today is pay-dirt day for me."
Ruthie's expression changed, reflecting resentment over the impending loss of her "private spot". Mike noticed, but of course had no clue why she was upset.
"Ruthie, trust me. Those people getting tickets out in the Econ lot are the same ones who spend their lives giving people like you and me crap all the time. They wouldn't give us the time of day. They're not anyone you ought to care about."
"I 'spose not."
"If you want to have some fun, come out there at about a quarter after four and just watch what happens. You wouldn't believe how some people freak about something as simple as a parking ticket. It'll be funny to see, but kinda pathetic too."
"I've got class, but maybe I can get out there...a little after 4:30."
"OK, then if I see you there, I mean...if you want, we can go to dinner after I get off work."
Ruthie nodded, surprised at the dinner invitation.
----------
A few minutes later Mike was out on the lot, with his ticketing machine, eight rolls of receipt paper, an extra battery, and his backpack stuffed with 400 red envelopes. He had to deal with a couple of sarcastic comments from the dispatcher, but true to her word, she had not told anyone about his plan to write 400 tickets in a single afternoon. She pulled out his supplies from under the counter in a market sack. He was grateful, because she had his stuff ready to go and he did not have to wait around.
He started on the cars parked farthest away from entrance because he did not want anyone to see what he was doing until it was too late. Hour after hour the machine clattered away, recording the vehicle information of student after student who blissfully assumed that a meter was the same thing as a "free parking for students" sign. Mike had his routine perfected: he wasted none of his precious seconds as he stuffed ticket after ticket into an envelope and put each under a windshield wiper. He only stopped to change his ticketing tape, and once, about three hours into his shift, the battery of his machine.
By 4:00 he was exhausted, his arm was painfully cramped from holding the machine for so long, and he was dehydrated. However, by then the majority of the envelopes he had brought with him were safely on cars and he had spent five of his eight rolls of ticketing paper. He had not moved as quickly as he planned: instead of averaging 80 tickets per hour he had only averaged 70. However, after four hours already he had written 280 tickets, and he had another hour to push for 350. That would still be a record for the department for a single shift.
As he worked his way up and down rows of cars that he would never be able to afford for himself, Mike had a chance to reflect on lunch with his strange classmate. He thought about her totally unadorned appearance and realized that her speech was every bit as unadorned as her body. Perhaps sometimes she had trouble expressing herself, but when she did speak she was bluntly honest. After having endured the painful breakup with Lisa and dealing with the multitude of phony girls who surrounded him in Davenport, Mike found that extremely refreshing.
He wondered about Ruthie's world, which apparently consisted of Salinas, Lincoln, and Culiacan. A strange combination, to say the least. He put together the clues that she had given him about her past, concluding that when she was 12, something traumatic must have happened between her and her father, something that forced her to leave Nebraska and move to California. The conversation left him with many more questions than answers.
Finally, Mike began pondering something that never would have occurred to him just three days before: the possibility of having a relationship with her. Of all the women in Davenport, she was the one who seemed most within his reach...the only one, really.
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Starting at 4:15, Mike could see students running across the parking lot to get to their cars, and hear the cussing when they found out that they already had been ticketed. He kept on, because he still had several rows to go. A young couple got into their car just ahead of where he was working. They were among the few lucky ones who made it to the lot before Mike had a chance to ticket their car. They passed by and the guy rolled down his window:
"Looks like you missed me, asshole!"
Yes...yes...I missed you. No problem. I'll get you tomorrow, Mike thought to himself.
Around the parking lot students angrily pulled out of their spaces, screeching their wheels in a show of defiance. Mike was careful not to be standing out where people were driving by, because he knew from experience that someone could whiz by him and honk or throw something at him. He kept on ticketing.
By 4:30, a steady flow of students was returning to the lot. Many of them started running along the sidewalk when they saw what was going on. Around the parking lot the cussing and the roaring of engines and screeching of tires picked up. A second lucky student got to her un-ticketed car and pulled out. She was an exception.
A guy pulled up to Mike and tried to hand him the ticket that was on his car.
"You can take this back. I'm not paying it."
"Yeah you are."
"I'd like to see you make me."
Mike shrugged his shoulders. "You won't get your grades if you've got unpaid tickets. So you can threaten me all you want, but you'll still be paying it."
The guy tossed his ticket on the ground and drove off.
With just 10 minutes to go, Mike glanced towards the Econ building and saw a dark-haired girl in shorts and an old t-shirt sitting on the grass. His heart jumped. So she had come after-all. He waved at her and she waved back.
Ruthie watched the spectacle of students running past her and people roaring their engines in anger as they exited the lot. It turned out that Mike was right, it was kinda fun to watch the rich crowd get theirs for once. As much as she still lamented the fact the area no longer would be deserted in the afternoon, she did have to admit that it was nice to see people that she hated being inconvenienced and not being able to do anything about it. Oh, how she wished she could have treated those spoiled beauties in the coffee shop the way Mike was treating them in the parking lot!
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A few minutes later Ruthie accompanied her classmate as he returned to the Parking Enforcement Office. The office was located in the corner of a huge parking garage, a new structure on campus that nearly everyone considered an eyesore. However, in a world dominated by personal transportation and the need to accommodate all those machines, such structures were a part of life.
Mike gave his classmate some further explanation about his job and some trivia about parking on campus. She commented that she was somewhat surprised by how angry many of the students were upon seeing their tickets. He explained that for some students, parking illegally and avoiding tickets was something of a game and they resented it when they lost. Many others simply felt that free parking was something they were entitled to and that in issuing tickets, Parking Enforcement Officer # 036 was violating their rights. They had been using the lot for two months without paying, so the sudden change was an outrage.
"You have to understand how obsessed people become about 'convenience issues' such as parking. That's why some of them get so pissed when they see me. According to them, I'm taking away their rights. But that's just too bad, 'cause they're not supposed to be in that lot anyway."
Ruthie commented: "You know, I've always found it weird what 'rights' people fight for and what ones they don't. Last year in my school, they nearly had a riot when they took out the candy machine. I mean, there's all this other shit going on there...the gangs and all the cutbacks and having to be scared for yourself every time you walk around in the halls...but nobody ever said anything about any of that. You take away the candy machine...and everybody got pissed...you know...that they took away their right to buy candy in the school."
When Mike nodded in agreement, she added an observation that surprised and impressed him:
"I wonder if they do shit like that to us on purpose. Getting us to worry about the little shit, so we don't have time to worry about the stuff that really matters. I always wondered that about the whole candy machine blow-up. I mean...if everyone was fighting over a candy machine, then they could cut our lunches and nobody would say anything...and that's what they did. I'm thinking the candy machine was a trick they pulled on us to keep us under control...just like parking..."
"...like parking?"
"Yeah, like parking...you know, you've got all these people stressing about their cars and guess what? They're not thinking about stuff that really matters."
"Maybe that's true, but the big problem around here is that there's simply too many cars. There's no room in the world for all the cars and we keep adding more."
"I wouldn't say 'we', Mike. 'We' don't make those decisions."
"No, I guess you're right. But 'we' accept things the way they are and don't try to change them."
"Yeah, and just how's anybody gonna want to change anything if it's all the same shit on TV and on-line and on radio? They've got us beat. There's nothing anyone can do about it."
"I don't know. I'd like to think that's not true..."
"Mike, look at yourself. You're helping Admin control people's behavior. I mean, maybe they're people we don't like and who don't like us, but you're still trying to control what they do. That's what you're doing for a living. It's what we're all doing, 'cause we have to. They've got us beat."
Mike didn't agree with Ruthie, but still, he was very impressed. At age 18, already she was thinking about "the big issues" in life. She had a mind of her own and was able to intelligently analyze the world that surrounded her. She could think, and given the chance, she could talk. Her mind was not full of pop culture and shallow socializing and status symbols. There was nothing phony or vain about her.
