Parking $3
© 1999 Matt Duncan
That's Mr. White Ford Tempo there. He's with Miss Red Corsica. By that I don't mean she's with him now, I mean they're together, like. I mean, they ain't married, I reckon, but near abouts. She done moved to Raleigh, though, and he said to me one soupy warm 3 in the afternoon, he said "I don't know when she be back." But I seen her with him Saturday past, I did. And I told them both I knew it was going to work out, she be back, I said. Ha ha, yes.
Mr. White Ford Tempo, he got a pass. You got a pass, you get to park here any time you please, any day you want. Mr. White Ford Tempo got his pass cause he stays over the bakery. Nothing but city parking around the bakery, but folks has to park, so his landlady give him a pass. His landlady, she work for Mr. Green Explorer. Now, Mr. Green Explorer, he own half downtown. His wife, she even own a shop next door to the bakery. I don't see them too much in this here lot, but I knows them when I sees them.
Mr. Green Explorer, he hired me, through that landlady, he lets me and a couple other fellows watch this here parking lot. They don't pay us none, but they let us keep what we charge for the parking. We got us some orange cones, and a stripey orange barrel, and a sign what says PARKING $3. Back of that sign says PARKING $2, but more and more folks seem to have a pass, like Mr. White Ford Tempo. I like him and all, you know, but I got to eat, too.
Me, I don't got no car. You'd have to call me Mr. Rusty Black Schwinn. Ha ha, yes. No, folks don't call me much of nothing, nice folks like Mr. White Ford Tempo. Now, little Miss Jeep Cherokee, she done called me a lying old man, and some other trashy words it ain't worth putting to paper. Now, I done called her some things right back, but not to her face. And it don't do no good to tell you all that mess, cause you might know her, and she might be your friend, and then we won't get along good no more.
It's just the regular folks, whose cars be in the same spot every day, that I know what they drive. Most of those folks what got to pay to park, I don't even pay attention to their cars, and what they drive. They might pull in here every night, to go to bars, and they ain't nothing but Mr. and Miss $3 If You Please. Some I remember, cause they remember me. I don't usually have nothing to go by, though, cause those ain't usually the ones who talk to me, with nice things to say. I mean, I make friends most with regulars, who got passes, and with passengers in Mr. $3 If You Please's car. Funny, but folks usually got a lot more nice things to say when they ain't handing you $3.
Some folks, I know them by other names. Like Mr. Don't Cut Off His Headlights. That fellow is always asking someone for a jump. And that cute Miss Didn't Close the Boot. That was during that hurricane couple years back, and if I hadn't been gathering up my orange cones, she'd have lost her jumper cables, jack, blanket, and everything. She always got something nice to say, though, so I made sure to close the boot on her little Honda. I charge for the parking, sure, but I watch out for the place, too. I make sure there ain't no funny business, neither.
'Cause of this, I got to make sure nobody's being bothered in the lot at night. Sometimes I got to run somebody off. Like old Charlie One-Leg there. I used to be like him, asking everone for a dime or a quarter to get a bottle, living in that brown paper sack. There's other fellows like old Charlie. I got to run them off, too. Then there's people like Miss Maxie. Ha ha, yes. That boy, he sashay around, dabbing his eyes with cream, and wearing strange old women's shirts with his worn old clothes. He told me he was a king of Egypt once, a regular Pharaoh. Now he just got friends nobody else can see.
I ain't had no trouble, working weekend nights, being safe and all. I usually ain't got to run nobody off, 'cause there's more money downtown by the bars. Little Miss Jeep Cherokee, she about all I had to worry with. She and folks what's already drunk when they pull in. Sometimes, it's not worth the $3. You just got to let them folks go on downtown. Now, weekdays, I work afternoons. Well, I try to work mornings, when folks park and go on to work. Folks can park in the city parking for two hours, or all day in this here lot. And if they park here, ain't no making them leave 'til past dinner. I usually get here for lunch hour, though. It's up to me, really. If I ain't here when they're parking, I just don't get paid. Ain't no time clock, this job.
Mr. White Ford Tempo, he going, he say he's moving on. Going to have a beer with him, before he go. Can't say as I blame him much. He got Miss Red Corsica waiting in Raleigh. And I remember when that white Ford Tempo had Michigan tags. But I can't say as I'd join him, neither. He says he feels like the air ain't right here. Like it being sultry every day makes the air too heavy, like he weighs a thousand pounds.
Guess I figure, if I left, ever other place make me light headed.
Ha ha. Yes.