Sometime past 3 a.m. on rainy Dec. 17th, I left the plowed village of Whistler, headed north on the clear and salted Highway 99, dropped off a friend in the equally clear and snow-free Emerald left hand side entrance and then made my way back home to the Emerald right hand entrance only to be met with no less than 20 centimetres of slush.
Having left my periscope in the village, I was obviously unable to foresee the difficulties that lay ahead in my fine subdivision, and pressed forward to navigate the mush. Thirty minutes and 200 metres later, I was forced to abandon my car in the cul de sac, along with the other seven vehicles stranded there, notwithstanding the car that was blocking the entrance of my uphill driveway.
I would have moved Heaven and goopy snow to make it to my driveway that night knowing that in five hours, I would have to awaken and move my vehicle, (to God knows where), to avoid a ticket and possible towing. And of course, there I was five hours later, the picture of sleep walking beauty avec jammies and boots, making my civic duty trek down my hill to move my car only to be met with a STILL unplowed street. I retreated back to my couch where I awoke 45 minutes later to one towed car.
I arrived at the municipal offices, some time later to vehemently oppose my ticket and towing. As coincidence would have it, a neighbour was there disputing his ticket and towing as well in effect, a fellow partner in whine.
As far as the Bylaw Man was concerned, we are responsible for our cars and must respect the law and if there are no places to park, we must adhere to the rules in place and effectively deal.
As far as I'm concerned, I was not flagrantly flaunting the law. Everywhere else on earth was plowed that night except second entrance right hand side Emerald and even chains, front-wheel drive and snow tires were not enough to lend any kind of purchase on the road. I parked where I had to park.
The bantering continued but the highpoint came when Bylaw Man informed me that I was the one that chose to live in Emerald and MAYBE I SHOULD MOVE (to a place where they plow more regularly?). After my head spun twice around, a la Linda Blair, I informed Bylaw Boy that maybe he wasn't aware of the housing problems in our village and, more to the point, I was forced between a rock and a mushy place, having no other option than to park where I did because the muni hadn't plowed my street.
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