The Parking Ticket

Agnes A. Zycinski
Germany

ESOL 173

Fall 2007



I was sitting in my car and driving down Bloomfield Avenue. It was 9.40 a.m. Just 15 minutes and I should arrive at the train station in Newark. I had mixed feelings. I was happy and very anxious to see my friend Svenja from Germany, but also feeling guilty for breaking my word to not go to Newark. It was my second week in America as an Au Pair; I was driving my new host family’s big Lexus SUV. I could remember my host dad’s words: “I don’t feel comfortable with you going to Newark; it’s too early for you to drive such a far distance.” However, here I was driving to Newark. How could he expect me to tell my friend to take a cab? I was unbelievably happy that she was able stop by while traveling through America. I was looking forward to meeting with somebody familiar in this country full of strangers. I remember having sleeping problems. My bad conscience didn’t let me sleep. I just didn’t know what to do, but then at one point I decided I couldn’t disappoint my friend, whom I have known for almost 5 years.

While driving on Bloomfield Avenue, I looked at my directions again. The way seemed to be easy: Go straight on Bloomfield Avenue and then make a right. I even knew where to park so I could save money. Another girl’s host dad advised me to park at the Burger King right next to the station. I didn’t realize yet that this advice would turn my day into an unpleasant one, but I just felt confident and happy. I remember the weather being wonderful. It was September, the trees had just started to lose their leaves and it was still mild. I was so excited that I could show Svenja my “new home” and New York City.


I arrived at a quarter to eleven at the Burger King parking lot. I was only five minutes late for Svenja. I locked up the car and started to walk towards the train station. My heart started to beat faster while I was entering the building. Up until that point, I didn’t realize how much I missed my home and my friends. I was walking through the big lobby, looking around, trying to find my friend in the crowd. Then I finally saw her, sitting on one of the benches waiting for me. “Svenja!” I yelled, feeling overwhelmed with emotions upon seeing her. “Agnes!” she screamed back, and before I knew what was happening, we ran towards each other and hugged. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy to see you!! How are you? How is your host family? How does it feel to live here now?” she started to ask while I was talking to her at the same time. “How was your trip so far? I’m so happy to see you.” After a while, we decided to go back to the car and drive home, so we would be able to catch the bus to New York City. “It’s so great to see you. We already miss you in Germany, Agnes!” she continued while we were walking out of the train station towards the car. The weather felt warmer and the day looked even more beautiful than before. “I miss you all, too, but I really have luck with my host family. They’re very nice people and the kids are adorable, and wait until you’ll see the awesome car,” I laughed. We walked into the parking lot. ”See, a nice 2006 Lexus.” “A Lexus?” Svenja said laughing back. “Look at that one on the truck, there; we have exactly the same one, and my car is there on the right. . . ” I replied. Suddenly, like in slow-motion, my eyes wandered from the car on the truck to the spot where I had parked my car, but there was nothing! I couldn’t see what I actually should have seen­­-- my car. Suddenly, I looked back at the truck, and then I finally realized the situation. That was my car, on the truck, which was actually a wrecking truck, about to leave the parking lot. I couldn’t breathe for a second and a thousand thoughts ran through my head. It seemed my heart had stopped beating and I felt the world stop for a moment; and then I just started to run. I forgot about my friend, who had no idea what was going on, and I just wanted to stop the truck. I was running like never before. The few feet seemed like a mile, and the only things I could think of were: what will I tell my host parents and how will I get the car back and would I have to go home? “Stoooop!!!Stooooop!!!” I screamed, almost out of breath. “Please stooooop!” but the truck started to go onto the street, driving faster. I was running like crazy, but then, suddenly, I was able to catch up with the truck, which had to stop at the stop sign. “Sir, please stop. I’m the owner of the car.” I panted for air. ”Where are you taking the car, sir?? Please tell me what is going on.” “Lady, you parked on private property and your car will be towed away to our property. If you want, I can take you with me,” the man replied unemotionally. “Let’s go with him, Agnes,” Svenja said, putting her hand on my shoulder. I didn’t even notice she was running after me the whole time.


So there I was, sitting in this truck, a dirty truck, stinking like cigarette ashes, with a dirty obese man looking like as though he hadn’t taken a shower in days, sweaty and unshaven, in Newark, America. Svenja was holding her big travel bag with her belongings and her laptop while trying to look not too scared, but I knew her too well; she was. We were driving for about 10 minutes, through a shabby, dark neighborhood before the car pulled onto the company property. “Get out, girls!” the stinky man shouted at us. Go into the office across the parking lot and talk to the boss. I’ll unload your car.” Svenja and I climbed out of the truck and walked to the office. “Agnes, listen to me,” Svenja suddenly whispered to me, “Start to cry as soon as we get in there and perhaps he’ll make you a deal when he sees how upset you are!” ”I’ll try,” I said. I knew Svenja was right and this was the only chance I had so that I wouldn’t have to call my host parents. I knocked at the door. “Yes,” a dark male’s, voice answered. I went into the office and as soon as I saw the bedraggled office and the greasy man, I couldn’t stop my tears. ”Listen, girl, you’ll have to pay $380 or you’ll pay me $250 in cash with no receipt .” I just agreed by nodding my head. I guess I had never been as afraid as at that moment. “Do you have cash?” he wanted to know. “No sir, but where is the nearest bank?” I asked in a quaky voice.” Just four blocks from here, and hurry up, girl, I don’t have time the whole day!”

I still don’t know how Svenja and I managed to walk, no, almost run the 4 blocks, frightened to death, with her laptop and all her belongings, through the “ghetto” neighborhood, get the money and walk back, pay the greasy man, go and get into the car and drive with our Lexus through the shabbiest neighborhood I have seen so far in America with our Lexus, getting uncomfortable attention from people loitering in front of their houses. It was 10.55 when we were on Bloomfield Avenue driving home, in silence, trying to put together all the things which just had happened.

It’s now more than one year since I had to go through this experience. I’m still living with the same family, who have become like a second family to me. I never told them what happened. I know that at one point in my life I’ll tell them, and I’ll look back and laugh, but now I have learned my lesson. First of all, trust people with their advice, especially when they have lived much longer in this country than you have, and don’t park in a Burger King parking lot “to save” money. Instead of paying $5 for a parking ticket, I paid $250.