Parking Debacle – 76 of 90

So, Katie came to visit Connecticut for the weekend. I’ll be included some of our adventures over the next few blog posts. Also, since she has a camera (and I don’t), I’m able to attach some photographic evidence of our exploits.

But before I get to that, I have to tell the story of the parking lot debacle.

So, Katie’s flight got into New Haven, Conn., at like 12:45 after several delays due to some questionable weather in the Northeast. After barely being able to find the airport (for which I blame Google Maps and its faulty directions), I pick her up and we drive back to Hartford, Conn.

Well, not after getting lost again trying to escape stupid New Haven. An adventure that included driving into one of those DUI checkpoints…

I digress at this point to ask how effective those checkpoints really are. I mean, all the cop did was ask if I had anything to drink tonight; I replied, “No”; and we were on our way. Yes, I know that part of it is to test how you respond to see if there are any signs of drinking. And yes, I totally support keeping drunken drivers off the streets (I have been a DD many times). But was it really necessary for there to be a minimum of five cop cars at that checkpoint? And this was an out-of-the-way place to put a checkpoint in the first place; I bet they saw a dozen cars an hour, max.

…but eventually we made it back to Hartford. Got into the apartment, went to bed and prepared to head to NYC the next morning.

Or so we thought.

I should mention how our parking lot in Hartford works at this point. We have a sticker put on our windshield (right around the rearview mirror) that electronically triggers the gate to open and close. Late at night or on the weekends, there is a shutter gate that opens and closes along with the gate arm.

We got up early — apparently we thought it was important to get to NYC by 10 a.m. — got ready and went to the car to try to leave. We pull up to the gate.

Nothing happens.

I just sit there, confused. I back up, thinking maybe I was at the wrong angle or something, and pull back forward.

Nope.

At this point, there is another ESPN intern trying to leave, so I back out of the way and see what happens. Gate opens for him, no problem.

I would have tried to follow the next person out of the gate, but it doesn’t stay open too long and I was pretty convinced the arm or shutter would have just come down right on my car.

This is like 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday, so there’s pretty much no one around. I’m stumped as to what to do next. I try to think of whom to call.

My first shot is with the apartment complex. So I call them, and someone answers. But he’s no help. He said he had no one to get a hold of and said there was a number somewhere in the parking lot that I could call for help. The only number I can see is the number to buy monthly passes for the lot. I try it, but no one answers.

By next best guess is to call one of the ESPN college coordinators for help. I’m sure she was super excited to hear from one of us at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, but, hey, I didn’t know what else to do. She suggests trying the other office that is nearby (there are two offices for adjoining apartment complexes that are owned by the same company). She also says she’ll call someone else to see if that person can be of any help.

Check the other office. Nope. Frustrated, I just head back to the apartment and turn on the TV.

Finally, around 7:30 a.m., I get a phone call from the liaison between ESPN and the apartment complex. She finally explains to me where the emergency number for the parking lot is. (It was on a wall with a bunch of other numbers that were the open and closed times for the lot — the lot is open 24/7 to residents and certain hours to people who want to park there for work. I probably should have noticed it, but at the same time, I can understand why I missed it.) I call them and someone is supposed to come “soon.”

That was about 8 a.m. I go back to the apartment and wait. With no word by 9 a.m., I head down again to the parking lot as the lot is officially open then. The man there gives me a new sticker, we are able to leave the lot and we head to New York (which I will write about in post No. 77).

After a full day in NYC, we head back to Hartford, getting there around 11 after stopping for dinner. We pull up to the gate.

Nothing happens. Sigh.

Fortunately, I still have the emergency number. I call and someone comes to help in about five minutes.

Apparently, the second sticker, which I had received that morning, was improperly keyed in or something, so it certainly wasn’t going to work when we got back that evening. I get a third sticker, which has — thankfully — worked like a charm since then.

I finally found out why the first sticker stopped working in the first place. When Katie and I got back to Hartford on Friday night, it was 2:something a.m. For some reason — whether it was the time, where I parked or some other reason — the gate thought I was just sitting at it and therefore stopped working (I don’t think we have much to worry about if the Hartford parking lots become self-aware).

To fix the problem, my sticker was disabled so other people could use the lot that early Saturday morning, which is more common than you think. There are interns working at ESPN, and therefore coming and going from the apartment, pretty much 24/7. My sticker should have been reactivated the next morning when the guy came at 9 a.m., and there wouldn’t have been any problem. But, since we tried to leave so early (and catch the guy before he can see some note telling him how to fix the problem), the whole debacle then commences.

C’est la vie.