Keep you eyes peeled. I’m looking for a parking space, but the odds are against us. See, parking these days, especially in the city, is like a sick game of cat and mouse. One that was designed by an evil genius who is watching your every move through a spyglass from his corner office at the top of the tallest skyscraper in town. “Yes, my pretty pet,” he cackles to himself as you flirt with parking in a loading zone, “Park there and see what happens to your precious tw0-door coupe after my henchmen, the Purple Putrefaction Patrol, get through with it!” And even though finding a parking ticket pinned to your windshield wiper stings, the alternative is even more terrible: parking garages. These guys are like the Witch in Hansel & Gretel, promising you the world with their flashy, big blue parking “P” signs (the gingerbread house), lying in wait while you dine at the nearby Outback Steakhouse (fattening you up), and then charging you $50 for forty-five minutes of parking (pushing you into the oven). Heck, there may even be some parking garages that take the last metaphor literally, and also try to cook you for dinner after you’ve handed over your entire wallet. I would not put it past these pirates. Really, the only rational solution to the parking problem is to avoid garages altogether and take the parking ticket right on the chin. Think about it: it’s like your own personal city parking service that costs way less than what you would pay in a garage (this obviously depends heavily on the city you live in). Just don’t get too carried away with parking in front of hydrants or handicapped spaces. Because the Purple Putrefaction Patrol will get you.