In most urban areas, as well as suburban towns, paying for parking is pretty normal.
Whether you are commuting to work, visiting the city, or running an errand to the only retail store that exits within 80 to 100 miles of your home, you probably have become friends with some form of public parking out there.
- The parking meter – now very technically advanced – it accepts coins, bills and credit cards, too.
- Or, maybe you bought a permit since you’re there often enough.
- Or, even better, you know the attendants by name – the friendly guys (if you tip them or at least say hello, please and thank you.) You should treat them well. They are the ones who run your car up into that space you’d probably rather not see in person. The space that many drivers would not have the confidence to squeeze, backing into, to park their car for the day.
In the hay day – or dark ages – depending on how you look at it; twenty years ago, in the twentieth century – paying for parking was my norm. It was the time in my life where my relatively new car spent more time in a garage parked at 1900 Market Street than I did in the aforementioned car. Luckily, unless The Ladders has any control over this, tele-commuting will continue for the foreseeable future. If not; I am probably going to want to enlist a self driving car because I still don’t prefer taking the train to work down town, and working through that “commute time” is totally productive.
~ Dawn aka Hat Girl