Hecklers, Nazis & Toll Jumpers

Toll's three dollars (I was in lot one, today). Across the street it's two dollars. It's simple. In the years that the city has had a baseball team, there has never - EVER - been a time when you didn't have to pay the price. Granted that it has gone up significantly, it's still nevertheless a charged fee.

Today, I got a woman who drove behind me, following Estella. She probably figured if the lady in the black truck didn't have to pay, then she didn't either. The lady in the black truck, of course, works at the stadium. They caught her at the door. There's no need for that anymore.

Ever since Bossman told us (meaning me, as I'm sure my reputation has followed me) we could not chase cars anymore, parking three has been less than stellar. However, I've discovered a cure for this. If I can't catch them in the act, then I'm going to embarrass them at the door. Well, today Fred got lot 3 and he was more than frustrated with the people. And there wasn't a thing he could do. I told him that the rules have changed and if he's going to play the game well, then he has to phone in the toll jumpers. I'd bust them too, if I had to. There's no reason for them to jump ship - if honest hard working people have to dish it out, then everyone should have to dish it out.

Problem is, now we've got a whole new set of problems. Escalation.

Much like the ending of Batman Begins, the way we play "the game" has changed since 2007. When I started chasing the cars down, they found other means of getting by me. Sometimes they'd come in packs. I'd leave my post as one of them jumped the median, while the other one pulled in. Chances are, I couldn't get both of them, and I couldn't be in two places at once. Today, the toll jumpers found a new way in - run over the barricades. City property defaced by a blue, white-striped Mustang. Or they speed right by us, knowing full well that we can't follow. When we call in descriptions, there are so many, how can we get them all down at once?



And Toll Jumpers aren't the only problem plaguing the stadium, leaving everyone in a pissy mood. The rate of insanity with the Hecklers has reached an all time low. Yesterday, there were only about six men who were booing, name calling and swearing - today they brought their girlfriends and others like them. Super had to go to great lengths to walk them out of the ball park because they were now attempting to start a fight with the visiting team - and I'm sorry, you hecklers out there, chances are the team will wipe the floors with you because you're all talk and no muscle. And next home stand, they'll be there again and probably worse.

But not only have they started with the visitors, but also a gang of teenage hecklers parked themselves on the home side. Estella's alone in the taking care of the crowd while we're off being parking lot Nazis. When we come in, we're only adding two extra guys. We can't be everywhere at once. We're walking around, attempting to keep the crowd calm.

It was a good day, nevertheless. Mainly because it was the last game of the home stand and I get nine days off to do whatever I please.

On a side note, the parking lecturers have decreased. Today, I got one, but for the most part he was too tired, too frustrated, or realized I've heard it all before.

Hecklers, Dumbasses & Stupid Ideas

Apparently to Bossman, us little people are an "inconvenience" and "distraction" to the bankers so we have to bank outside, rather than going inside the room. Now when we bank, we deal with both money and tickets - either of which can blow out of our hands and get lost. Apparently, Bossman doesn't think this is possible and mankind have conquered wind to the point that we can now control it - perhaps he gets this confused because we can harvest it.

Well, if things aren't changed tomorrow, then I'm going to take my money directly to him and have him bank because I will not count that money outside that office. There's no reason to put ourselves in a position of being robbed (it's not like we're not already) or losing money.

But Bossman wasn't the only dumb ass tonight had to offer. A gang of hecklers from the other night returned, this time far drunker than they were before. Not only did they call someone from the opposing team a nigger, they also called a kid a faggot. I'm not saying that the kid didn't stir them either, because he did and they were both in the wrong, but the hecklers did start it. The family of the child should've taught him better - you know, be actual parents.

I think what's wrong with America can be summed to what is wrong with baseball. I get it - all sports have hecklings, but once it becomes racist, then a line has been crossed. The moment that it comes to profanity, throwing beer and attacking the fans of the opposing team, it is something completely different. And I wasn't upset that the kid was insulting the hecklers, I was actually hoping he'd throw better insults. However, in the long run he's still just a kid and they're a bunch of drunk men - if it got ugly, then it would get really ugly.

Super asked the other fans to calm down, while not expelling the hecklers from the game. That was bad form. These people are representing us - the team and the city - and allowing them to continue shows that we are allowing it to happen.

It was a sad day to day. A day filled with morons. And sadly I'm working for one. I've come to accept that the powers that be will always be stupid white men who cannot take care of their own money and reward those who break the rules by giving them more beer. Kudos!

Will Chase Cars for Toll

What a day! I haven't felt that alive in some time. Sundays are normally dull days because lot 3 only gets a few cars - 10 at most. Yesterday was no different. It was hot, boring and slow. I sat most of the time because I was still feeling sick from my stomach. Around seven o'clock, I saw something across the parking lot. It was moving at a rapid speed. As it got closer, I noticed it was an empty cardboard box tumbling in the wind. What a way to set the mood. It was like one of those old Western movie cliches that we recognize automatically as barren and vacant. The box as tumble weed was the last thing to seal the deal that the day would be long.

Twenty minutes later, I saw a tan minivan pull into the lot, having jumped over the median. There was a quick inner battle with myself, wondering if I should disregard Bossman's rules. At orientation, he said anyone who gets in passed us without paying should be let in, "It's not worth the $2 if you get injured."

I stepped forward, said fuck it and walked down the hot asphalt, picking up speed toward the van. Within shouting distance, I called out, "Excuse me! You have to pay for parking!"

The man in the yellow polo shirt, an idiot, looked up and asked, "Even here?"

"Even here..." ...asshole.

Lot 3 has three entrances, two of which are blocked by our horses. These people know that they have to pay if they come through me, so they go through an ROTC entrance which is blocked off from lot 3 by a sidewalk. Because the pavement is low enough to drive over without damage, most people take it. Because Bossman told us these people aren't worth it, I've been passive about chasing them. Of course, yesterday was a dull day.

After collecting and running back to my post, I felt happier, more alive - like a true Parking Lot Nazi! And it was the many reasons why I wanted the job again - the exercise!