A Close Shave

Agent Orange

I lathered up for a later than normal shave, anticipating a hot shower on a cold, snowy morning. "Oh, shit," I thought, "It's after 9." New Yorker's Dilemma #9: Finish my shave  OR wipe off the shaving cream, pull on some duds, and run downstairs to pump some quarters in the MuniMeter. Reader, I rolled the dice. I finished shaving and even chanced a quick shower before I hit the bricks.

Mistake! The NYPD traffic officer was looking down through the little hole he had made in the snow on the windshield and punching the info into his handheld. "Officer, I'm right here!" I waved as I held up the futile quarters in my hand. But I knew I was in for "The Speech," i.e., "Once I've started writing it up, there's nothing I can do. You should have...." Instead, he came across the street to meet me. "Do me a favor," he said, "get a ticket from the machine, just for a few minutes, and mail it to this address." He pointed to the Appeal-by-Mail address on the back of the ticket. "Not in this envelope (the orange one), a regular one. It's within five minutes." I think he might even have apologized(!) as he explained he'd already written it up.

MuniMiracle!