City Paper is not for tourists
I’ve had a lot of problems with parking tickets lately. This morning I parked at a meter on M Street that wouldn’t take quarters. I put in all my nickels and dimes and went to the doctor’s office, hoping I’d be finished in the 26 minutes I had on the clock.
At the 21 minute mark it was clear I wouldn’t be done, so I went back to the car to move it to a working meter.
When I got behind the wheel, I saw a pile of money in the middle of the street. I got out of my car and hurried over to pick it up. The wet bills totaled $60.
I’ve found money on streets and sidewalks my whole life. There is a weird, powerful feeling that goes with finding money. I used to think I found money so often because I was special.
It wasn’t until I was in my early 30s and found a $10 bill on a sidewalk while walking in Buffalo that I realized I found money not because I was special, but because I had spent my whole life walking with my head down looking for it.
But today’s haul, which ranks among my biggest finds ever, gave me the old “I’m special!” feeling. I will use most of the $60 to pay a parking ticket I got in this same neighborhood a couple months ago, which was totally bogus. I think that’s why I found it.