Stalked by a Meter Maid

Let's back up, shall we? Over a meter maid if we're so lucky. Haw haw.

Last Thursday I missed History class...again.

I skipped History on Tuesday as some of you twitters know because I overslept, whereupon waking, found my child wearing only guilt and his Superman underoos. He sat on the floor playing the Playstation with the volume muted like a slick rick, making sure not to wake me. We both played hooky that day.

My intention was to attend Thursday, really it was, but as I pulled into the small lot behind the health center I noticed a meter maid nearby, watching me. He stood with his legs apart like a guard, staring at the rear of my vehicle then pulled out his gay little pad from his back pocket.

That sumbitch is going to give me a ticket. Come on, you bastard, what are you looking at?

I should probably mention why I park behind the university's health center (*cough* where my mom is a practitioner *cough*) when the sticker on my bumper clearly states my lot is 41, way across campus and nowhere near my History class.

Because I can, that's why.

Because my mom works there. Because she gives me passes to park there, bright red ones which I slide on my dashboard, and tokens to get out of the coin-operated gate. Because damn the man! And damn the cold weather that can turn my skin into a sleeve of hives since having Kellen, and damn the parking office assigning me a parking lot that feels two miles from my classes! Wah.

Imagine my surprise two weeks ago when I saw a yellow citation flapping beneath my windshield wiper. Double checking to make sure I had placed my red pass on the dashboard, I launched into a litany of dirty names for the meter maids, and marched inside the health center to shove the ticket under my mom's nose.

"Those assholes!" I cried. "Look at this! This is the second ticket they've given me and I have the red slip in my window. They know they can't give me a ticket. I'm here visiting. Those fucks!"

My mom raised an eyebrow. "Second? You didn't tell me you got a ticket before. Let me call and see why they're giving you tickets. That doesn't make sense because as far as they know you're a patient here."

So this passed Thursday, like a chickenshit, as Mussolini Meter Maid watched, I circled out of the lot and decided to go home instead risking a ticket. Over the phone, after hearing her lecture on skipping class and not blaming a meter maid for my own decisions, I asked my mom if she had called about the two tickets.

"Yep," she said with a sigh. "I'm not giving you slips anymore. Apparently, the meter maid looked up your schedule. Probably the same one you saw this morning. He's been watching your vehicle. He knows when you're in class, Julie."

WHAT.THE.FUCK.

My mom went on to tell me the woman on the phone cleared out the tickets from the system when she learned who she was speaking with, and what relation she was to me. However, my mom was already spooked by that point and insisted I was going to get HER in trouble. Never mind the fact that this was my mom's idea to begin with.

What irks me about this situation isn't that I was "caught" but that some piss ant meter maid is looking up my schedule. The day I bought my parking pass (you know for the lot in the boonies) they told me I needed a copy of my schedule since they couldn't look it up on the system. I had to run all the way home to print out a copy to come back and pay 75 bucks for a decal to park in the sticks.

So why is this meter maid accessing my schedule? Or rather how?

I haven't decided if I am going to call the parking office and inquire about this, but I'm pissed. Yes, I was caught abusing the system, the system my mom works for, the system that refuses to give free tuition to spawns of their employees, the system that obviously employs stalkers for meter maids.

Eat it and shut up because I have no grounds?
Or should I call and find out how and why this asshole is accessing my schedule?