Unless you have a parking permit
(PT’s periodic contributor Astrid Ambroziak wrote this piece after a number of articles appeared in LA papers about the folks who live around Dodger Stadium in LA and the pain they suffer when “big blue” is in town.)
To my commercial neighbors, the stadium, shopping center, theater, and the museum:
Till June 15th, 2007 I have been down and out. Down on luck and out of sleep. Then on that summer day, everything has changed. Bob Barker retired and I owe him. Since he retried I can sleep!! Things are looking up! All those screaming fans aren’t parking on my street.
Let’s say you live near the major theater, museum or a studio, sporting venue. You are lucky. You can walk there. But the price you pay is having those unlucky folks parking on your bucolic street. Why? Because those venues charge them to park in their parking lot. Subsequently, they say, since your street Mr. Koval, is free, visitors to those venues will grace you with their presence. Free parking, means more money for beer, for sashimi or for the latest edition of Richard Avedon photography book.
I am the aforementioned Mr. Koval and I am upset! I moved here because I like the neighborhood. I appreciate the museum and the movie theater. The stadium is great as are the schools. My kids are getting a fine education. All was wonderful until the shopping center and the sporting event customers showed up. You messed up my neighborhood. So now, I politely ask you to leave. If you won’t leave on your own merit, I am asking my city to force you out.
Dear City of Los Angeles: I know if you build it they will come. I ask you politely to “regulate” who will come. They can all come as long as they don’t disturb me. I don’t need to know what is their beverage of choice. I don’t need to find empty cans on my patio. I always knew that Trojan was a good brand in birth control and keeping a disease at bay. But hello, I have been married long time and I don’t need them.
My beloved commercial neighbors: Your baseball stars and your movie stars earn millions. They make so much because I go to their games and see their movies. Yet, on this Tuesday night, I chose to sleep appreciating the quiet of the night. I beg you: Respect your property as I respect mine. You invite your guests; keep them in your garden. They are not invited into mine.
Yes, I live near these major attractions. I appreciate you nearby but if you can’t respect me, I will have to be forceful against you. There is only one option. Today, I am collecting signatures to make my street permit only street. I gave you trust, you gave me empty beer bottles and trash in return. From now on, you are no longer welcome in my neighborhood, unless you have a parking permit.
Respectfully, Mr. Hank Koval.