RUNNING FROM THE FUZZ

Today I am a wanted criminal.

It all started innocently enough. I was the middle child in a lovely family....screw all that, let's just get to the crime that has turned me into a fugitive.

Yesterday, I pulled into the Hopkins garage as I do everyday. I immediately saw it...a primo parking space on Level 1.  Level 1!! Not Level 2, 238 where I usually park. A space right there by the ramp into the hospital. OMG!!!

I, of course, immediately fly to the coveted space, just to discover IT WAS ALREADY OCCUPIED. By one of those sneaky little Cooper cars that are so damn small you can't see them till you are inches away. Making me think there was an open space.....I hate those lying-ass cars. 

The unfortunate part of this, aside from the steam of profanities that assured my parking space in Hell, was that I had  no choice but to continue with the one-way traffic flow that lead out of the garage, back to Madison Street. Which is a one-way street, going away from the hospital. 

So, as many criminals before me, I made an impulsive decision which changed my life forever. I made an illegal u-turn in the garage to go back UP the parking levels.

All of a sudden, there were HopCops (Hopkins police) all OVER the garage, running towards me, screaming, waving arms. I think one of them even dropped his donut. 

I've never had that many Coppers tail me before. I didn't know what to do. In my  confusion, I just did the only thing that I could think of...

I waved to them. 

Then I floored it all the up to level 4,891, where I hoped they would never find me.

By now, I was thinking like a master criminal.  After parking my car in the pigeon target practice area, I pulled the coat hood over my head and slinked (slunked?) towards the furthest elevator. Ten minutes later, I was crossing the overpath into the hospital, into safety. I had just pulled off the perfect crime, a hardened criminal walking among the innocents. 

No doubt my mug shot, taken my one of the garage surveillance cameras, will be all OVER the internet shortly. So if you see a wanted poster of a fat-faced white chick waving from a beat-up old Hyundai, with the caption, "WANTED--THE PARKING GOOFBALL"--please, I beg you, don't turn me in. I am just too set in my ways to do time in The Joint. 

Besides, you don't want to mess with a hood like me. I am, after all, THE PARKING GOOFBALL.