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My sleep went undisturbed, and I awoke just before sunrise.
The tow yard opened at 8, and I had plenty of time to hit the gym and take a shower. If all went as planned, I would have half an hour to pay my fees and make the five minute drive to the performance venue for my 8:30 call time. I had breakfast in a diner across from the yard and waited for them to open their gates, spotting Vlad on the other side of the fence while I waited. At 8 AM I walked into the office, prepared to put this all behind me and hurry to where I needed to be.
The fee to retake possession of my car was $235. It was infuriating, but I paid my dues. The tow yard also said they needed a release form from the city of Pasadena, news that was even more infuriating.
I was short on time and couldn’t spend my morning running around the city again. I begged them to let me take my outfit for the performance from the front seat. My choir was relying on me, and I didn’t want to let them down. Vlad could wait, as long as I had my clothes I could be where I needed to be.
The tow company refused. The only way I would get my car or any of the items inside was to pay ALL the fees. I let them know how ridiculous I thought this was and left to get things resolved as fast as I could.
I would be a little late for the call time, but hopefully still in time for the performance. I would need to hurry, though. I assumed the Pasadena police department was the correct place to pick up the required paperwork, so I sprinted back to the same awning where I had waited for the rain to stop the night before and played the waiting game yet again.
The police department lobby didn’t open until 9, despite the sign out front stating otherwise. I was pushing it, but in my mind I thought there was still a possibility I could make it to the concert. When I was finally able to enter the building, the police told me they didn’t carry the release forms, and that I could pick one up at city hall.
I gave up at that point. I told the appropriate people I wouldn’t be able to make it to the performance and walked over to city hall. There was a line in the traffic and parking department, and I waited for my turn to give the city of Pasadena even more of my money to reclaim Vlad. I paid $150 to the clerk and asked to speak to somebody, to air my grievances about the system that had upended my evening and made me miss the event I had spent six months practicing for.
When the representative from Pasadena came by, I told him about my night, how a minor inconvenience over one parking spot became a major hardship for me. I told him they could have sent a ticket in the mail instead of seizing my property. I ranted about the headaches of trying to locate my car, and the audacious amount of bills and paperwork needed to reclaim it.
I recognized how privileged I was that I had enough money to pay off all those egregious bills. This incident was the type of thing that could break the spirit of desperate people, and it was clear the system Pasadena was enforcing did not care about the well-being of the victims at the receiving end. The representative said he was sorry and offered some other platitudes, but I doubt my complaints have had any real effect.
I got Vlad from the tow yard and drove home.
I had planned on staying in Pasadena on the cheap, but that night I ended up spending $545 just to get back to square one. A week later, some fines arrived in the mail for an expired registration and expired meter, another $130. I could have shown up in court and fought those, but the system had crushed me. I wasn’t going to take more time off work for what would have been a fruitless effort.
I was home safe, and I never wanted to set foot in Pasadena again.
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