Limited Parking in the ‘Trust’ Zone

I recently got street parking in the middle of a workday on La Cienega Boulevard between Clifton and Wilshire, and it so unnerved me that I spent a full five minutes walking up and down the sidewalk trying to figure out what was wrong. Gray curb, no permit-demanding sign, no fire hydrant in evidence, no huge Ace safe or grand piano dangling from the window above.

Still, in the land of “only $5 every five mins.” parking garages, I was so convinced that there was a catch I almost moved the car just because and I spent the next hour of my doctor’s appointment waiting to see how much the inevitable ticket would be.

This is what comes from 12 years of battling the demons and apparitions of street parking in L.A..

How many years have been sucked from my life by the sudden mirage of curbside emptiness that shimmers just a half a block away even as the minutes until that big interview or dreamboat lunch date tick by. Elation swooshes through your veins as you make your move, only to find the sulking lip of a driveway, or the mocking red slash of a no-parking zone.

But the worst, the absolute worst, is when the space is real. Miraculously, you manage a perfect three-motion parallel landing, rake through the glove box and front seat for the 97 quarters necessary to buy the time to get your hair cut and purchase a magazine, only to find that the parking meter is broken.

Sometimes you discover this before you put in your money--a slug is jammed in it, or a kind soul has scrawled “broken” on a shred of an Old Navy bag and stuck it in the slot. But more often you don’t realize until, in your haste, you’ve dumped in the price of a pack of cigarettes. Why is the needle not moving? Why is that irritating digital face still blinking a blank-eyed 0:00?

Because the meter is broken, that’s why.

After it’s happened, oh, seven or eight times in as many days, it’s hard not to take it personally. One woman said it’s gotten so bad that she’s been peering around for the “Candid Camera” crew, cocking her head to hear the telltale “Twilight Zone” intro. But according to City Controller Laura Chick, it really isn’t you, it’s L.A.

This spring, the first survey of parking meters discovered that 10% of the city’s meters are inoperable. Chick dutifully advised that the city fix them because increasing the “operable meter inventory” by just 5% would generate a cool million in revenue that Chick, for one, is certain the city would put to very good use. Like providing therapy for people like me who have developed serious parking-trust issues over the years.

Broken meters are often behind empty parking spaces because so many of us have no idea what to do when the meter is broken. Should we tape a buck’s worth of quarters to the windshield with a note? Thank our lucky stars and consider moving to an apartment nearby and never moving our car again?

In communities like Santa Monica, where you can be ticketed for not depositing money in the meter even if there is still plenty of time on it, it’s hard to imagine you will be allowed to park for free just because the thing is broken.

And yet, according to the office of parking management, that is, in fact, the case. You will not be ticketed for parking at a broken meter, but you should report the fact that the meter is damaged by calling the 800 number on the meter.

Which will take just a little more time than it would have to find the necessary parking change, but, hey, at least for once, the meter’s not running.

Mary McNamara can be reached at mary.mcnamara@latimes.com.