Armed with Nothing but a Handful of Quarters . . .

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Every day brings each one of us so many unique and amazing stories to both share and tell!

We have all been there. Watching our time pieces in fear of the dreaded swing of the parking meter’s arrow. Its ill-fated consequences should we dare go over our allowed, pre-paid time limit. Looking at our watches, we gasp. It’s later than we thought and the metering meter is farther than expected. Rapidly surveying all possible. all most immediate and all practical building entrance and exit options and wishing we had a spare parachute for just such an emergency, we run.

Torn between the professionalism of our trades and the desperation of meeting our doom at the hands of an unknown, often unidentified ticket bearer, the second option talks the lead. Choosing to leave rigid and motionless clutches of professional uncertainty the metered race continues. Unstoppable we race down towering flights of stairs, across semi-vacant rooms littered with people and through hinged doors. Coming face to face with the elements we race on. Our goal, to get there before anyone else does, with our pocket full of quarters.

Yet, unknown and never will be known to any of us, a man, in a simple brown suit armed with a hand full of quarters secretly and effortlessly impedes on the city’s parking violation funds. Without a cape, or a telephone booth to aid in his hidden identity changes he stealth-fully walks down the street, one parking meter at a time. Coming around the corner, continuing on to the road ahead, he stops. He stops next to metalized chunk of rubber-wheeled, motorized containment, called transformation. The very kind and the very one that got you to your current location. Like those meters before, he once again drops in a small handful of quarters just seconds before the parking meter’s ill-fated, needle pointing, predetermined expiration times. Hat’s off and flags a waving to this mysterious man in brown, who walks just footsteps ahead of city’s hired, meter-ticketing collections agent.

 

Until next time . . . Let Your Storyographer’s Journey Begin!

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