Emmaline Learns a Lesson

Monday was a big day for me.

You might look at my title, or even perhaps clicked this link to see an apology for my previous post "Top 10 Makeout Spots at Hillsdale." Prepare to be disappointed.

The reason I wrote that post was to cheer myself up from an abysmally depressing day. Sure, I learned that some things are too risqué for Hillsdale students. I learned that I should probably think twice about what I post because a future or current employer could stumble upon it. But I also learned that if I post a sexy title, 600 of you will read it. Either way, the post was too much and it had to come down.

But no, no. Those lessons came on Tuesday morning. On Monday, I added another chapter to the saga,"Emmaline Pretends to be an Adult and Fails Miserably."

I got back from a week of sunning myself in California, only to learn that Tomas, my faithful Ford Escape, had been impounded. For those of you who don't know what this means, basically I refused to pay my tickets to the corrupt Parking Authority of Washington, D.C. Despite my failure to acknowledge the power of the Parking Authority, they still towed my car as punishment.

So I hopped on my computer. After I figured out how to get my car back, I had the distinct pleasure of calling my parents to both ask for a loan to get Tomas back and explain how I was so irresponsible as to not go to the DMV, pay $35, and get a parking permit. But come on. I just figured that the worst that D.C. could do to me was put some tickets on my permanent record. What journalist doesn't have some skeletons in her closet? Well, I was very wrong. And my parents were furious.

                                                  MY PARENTS:

                                                   ME:

First, I had to go to the Adjudication Center in Judiciary Square. What fun! I got to wait for 45 minutes, playing Doodle Jump, and then get called to the front desk by a disgruntled government employee. After proving the car was mine, by showing a letter from my father and his driver's license, I got to pay $370 to the city of D.C. A cranky woman handed me my paperwork and a form of how to get to the lot where Tomas had been taken prisoner.

The directions said to get on the green line and head to Anacostia. I had driven past Anacostia a few times, but made sure to lock my doors and get the hell out of there. Now I was being forced to spend an extended period of time in arguably the sketchiest part of the D.C. area.

After arriving at Anacostia, I took the A4 bus. I have never ridden a public bus alone before. I am still not sure how it works. Apparently this bus was supposed to stop a block from the impoundment lot, but according to the GPS on my phone, every minute I was getting farther away. Not to mention, the bus driver drove like she was on "Fast and Furious." I got off at a random stop and walked away as quickly as humanly possible. Well, more accurately as quickly as my short, stubby legs would carry me.

Checking my phone, which was at approximately 11% battery life, I realized that I was still 1.6 miles away. After walking past what I could only reasonably determine was D.C.'s worst projects, I found the dirt road that led to the impound lot. After 30 more minutes of walking, and retracing my steps because I realized I dropped some of my paperwork, I arrived.

After another 20 minute saga of getting my paperwork sorted, I finally arrived at my car. I peeled all the impoundment stickers off and Tomas and I rode into the sunset toward happily ever after (and safety).

The moral of the story: Sure, I am growing up a little bit every day. Once in awhile, however, I take a very large step backward. I am slowly, very slowly, learning that the real world sucks, but at least there's a little humor in it.