Parking Problems #2

Yesterday, I went to town again.

I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. It never ends well. I also don’t know why town hasn’t become obsolete yet. I firmly believe I should be able to complete any desired task from the safety of my lounge room, but, sadly, there remain some tasks which require one to venture outside.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a car spot on Level 5 of Centreplace Carpark, right next to the stairwell, though I couldn’t understand why there were so many car spots available. The reason soon became clear as I ventured into the main shopping complex.  I’d forgotten it was Sunday.

I had expected the buzzing metropolis that usually disgusts me so much in Hobart. Instead I found a ghost town inhabited only by clusters of  deviant youths and the occasional wandering crazy. (I imagine the youths assumed that I was part of the latter group)

Of course, the bank, my main reason for coming to town, was closed.

I also went to the phone shop to ask why my calls keep dropping out. They said they didn’t know.

So I returned to the carpark.

Centreplace is one of those carparks where you have to validate your ticket within the shopping centre, before you return to your car. You then have some unspecified amount of time to get to your car and drive to the exit, where the presentation of your ticket enables you to finally leave.

Unfortunately, after I had validated my ticked, returned to my car, and found my keys, I realised that at some point during this process I had become tangled in my earphone cord. I don’t know how, so don’t ask me to explain.

After about ten minutes of struggling to escape, I assume my ticket validation would have expired. I will never know, however, since during the struggle I managed to throw my ticket up in the air, where it was carried off by a perfectly timed gust of wind.


The thing is, this isn’t the sort of story that I even half expected the carpark ticket man to believe. I don’t expect you to believe it. Yet, I tried to tell my story both as truthfully and as believably as I could.

In the end, he took my name and license number. I don’t know what that means, but I guess I’ll have to find a new place to park.


Author: Stuffed Olive

My awesomeness intimidates some people, others just point and laugh.

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  1. Ahahahahah!!!! I’m sorry but that’s really funny 😀 I wish I could see you explaining this to the Centrepoint man. Well I can, in my head, but you know, in real life.

    Hey why don’t you come to town with me some day? I love town!! There’s the reject shop and the donut place and Chickenfeed for STICKERS and there’s the shop with nuts and the shop with coffee and the several shops with books. TOWN! 😀

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      • Stickers are great, but I have a sticker maker at home.
        I can’t understand why you find town appealing in any way, shape or form. I’m glad you have fun there, but I won’t be joining you.

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  2. 15min is how long they give you between validation and getting back to your car. I don’t like town either D: it’s far too much effort for usually coming home with nothing, or something that isn’t quite right…although the Darrell Lea shop is there…mmm. AND they are open Sunday.

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  3. I hate those car park ticket machines- something always goes wrong for me. I liked the car-park attendants. The car park in Melville street ( near the Library) was so nice, with pleasant attendants but alas not any more, now they too have been replaced with machines.

    I get so frustrated when the places I need to go to are closed- computer says no!!!!!!
    No No No No

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    • I had as many problems with the carpark attendants as with the machines… but change is never a welcome thing. 😉

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  4. I think the conclusion of your story is: CARPARKS = EVIL.

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  5. I’m worried that you’re going to start parking elsewhere. This violates the parking survival rules, and now I’m worried you will end up trapped in Civic aimlessly searching for your car forever…
    Like some sort of monster of the week on Supernatural, but one of the sad ones

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  6. I’ve only experienced this sort of ludicrousity in the heart of Atlanta. Maybe they’ll just warn you? It doesn’t seem like the kind of place you want to frequent anyway. Here’s to a better trip into town next time!

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  7. Man, it’s Hobart. I’m pretty sure you could say your ticket was eaten by a rogue penguin and get away with it.

    Your illustrations are priceless, by the way.

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    • I laugh everytime I scroll past this rogue penguin comment.
      You are probably right, but I’m afraid of getting in trouble by lying – liars are naughty and the carpark man would KNOW!
      … now I’m going to go draw a picture of me being accosted by rogue penguins.

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  8. *gasp… gasp…* That is just too funny. And I’m sure I’ve jinxed myself to experience the same thing very soon.

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    • Haha. If it happens to you too, then maybe I won’t feel quite so uniquely hopeless! 🙂

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