Our family was finally going to enjoy our first family visit to a real, white sandy beach while we were in California for Christmas. We were going to frolic by the sea, collect shells, and catch a few rays.
Two cars drove to Laguna Beach and found a parking lot close to the beach. Then we began that dubious process of reading all the signs and regulations, purchasing the parking ticket, and placing it in the EXACT spot on the windshield.
Parking can be a complicated issue in a big city.
We didn’t want to make a mistake. We didn’t want a ticket.
Confident we’d been law-abiding, patriotic citizens, we spent several hours enjoying the sand and surf. It was one of those memory-making days.
We carefully watched the time. After all, we didn’t want a ticket.
Packing up earlier than necessary, we tromped all twelve people back to the parking lot where we’d parked so conscientiously.
We seriously didn’t want a ticket.
We got a ticket.
Our offense? Parking on a white line.
I know that parking your car crooked is annoying and can cause door dings, but I wasn’t aware it was against the law.
Apparently, in California it is.
Since California is still a part of America, we did our American duty, taking full advantage of due process, and protested our parking ticket on the basis of enforcing an unadvertised law.
Being a writer, I felt the urgency to wax eloquent in hopes of beating the ticket we tried so hard to avoid. Instead of a letter, I fully documented our situation with pictures and verbal evidence of our innocence, creating an attractive book that would move their hearts to erase our financial obligation.
I published my first book.
Will I get my first rejection slip?