Even though I am technically a graduate of Kwantlen Polytechnic University, I still find myself at the Surrey campus a couple days per week. Two of my six part-time jobs are based out of those halls and I’m also taking/enduring one course this semester. In Thailand they say, “same same, but different”. This applies here.
One thing that is “different” about this semester, however, is that I’ve been doing heaps of writing. Technical report writing, facebook inbox messages, but mostly just writing for fun (sorta like this). At Kwantlen there are two school newspapers that I’m aware of. One is called the Kwantlen Chronicle and the other is called The Runner. I am hardly a religious reader of either rag. However, The Chronicle has left a bad taste in my mouth from my bball “daze” at Kwantlen. They would interview members of our team and always end up writing some strange shit about them. Or maybe it was what they DIDN’T write that bothers me—student journalist requests interview, athlete accepts, student meets athlete at pub, information is exchanged, beers, impromptu photo shoot takes place in athlete’s front yard. The story is never published. Strange shit.
On the other hand, The Runner seems to be taking things a bit more seriously and their issues have been consistently good for a few laughs while on break from class. So, late last week when something noteworthy went down in the Kwantlen parking lot, The Runner was who I turned to.
Something happened. I wrote about it and submitted it to The Runner on the very same day. The Runner asked me if I’m single. I said yes. The Runner said that, not only are they going to “run” my article, but they are not going to rest until “Cute Girl” and I have been reunited. I told them that wasn’t really the point of the piece, but whatever. It is going to be included in next month’s Runner with an angle similar to “missed encounters” on craigslist.com or the “I saw you” section of the Georgia Straight. I find the whole thing hilarious, and silly, and I’m in! Here’s the article:
PAY IT FORWARD (or don’t pay it at all)
I hate paying for parking at Kwantlen and so do you. There, at a university as diverse as ours, we already have something in common. So what do we do about it?
At the Surrey campus I park, almost exclusively, in what has come to be known as the “gravel pit” (if you’ve been there, you know). The other day, as I attempted to navigate my aging Ford Explorer around traffic controllers and through the treacherous crater-like potholes that mark the entrance to “the pit”, I noticed a dark sedan rumbling out in the opposite direction. The driver of the sedan was a cute young brunette—quite cute, actually. Just as we are about to pass each other, she reaches onto the dash, grabs her full-day parking stub, and dangles it out the window at me. The move is so nonchalant that it takes me a moment to comprehend her gesture. It almost appears routine for her, like she has done this a thousand times before. I snatch up her permit, thank her enthusiastically, and life goes on.
Approximate elapsed time of the entire transfer? Three seconds. That’s less time than it takes you to pump your palm under one of those sanitary sauce dispensers after using the old creepy bathroom with the shower in it on the first floor of Fir (formerly known as ‘D’) building. It is my fourth year at Kwantlen and this is the first time such a thing has happening to me. I suppose it was her act of kindness (or perhaps her aforementioned cuteness) that was responsible for the smile on my face. It couldn’t have been the five dollars she saved me—I had not planned on paying anyway.
I no longer pay for parking at Kwantlen. Not because I think it’s grossly overpriced (which it is), or that IMPARK makes up to $15 per stall per day (which they do, do the math), or because I’m a badass (which I am not). The reason I don’t pay for parking is because history has shown that whether I pay or I stray…I get ticketed anyway.
I used to purchase official IMPARK (Imperial Parking Canada Corporation) “e-permits”. These are the electronic parking passes that you buy online and, in theory, offer reasonable weekly rates all while reducing your carbon footprint. Because there is no physical pass or paperwork involved, there is nothing to display on your dash. When the parking police notice you are permit-less and plug in your license plate number to issue a violation, their little machines are supposed to inform them that you are, in fact, exempt from punishment (for now). However, this system did not work so smoothly in my case.
When I parked without a weekly e-permit, I got a fine. When I parked with a weekly e-permit – same story. The tipping point was when I came out to the parking lot after a tough midterm exam to find my vehicle missing. It had been unjustly towed. University life is often one of two things: (a) stressful, or (b) very stressful. I could no longer tolerate sitting in class not knowing if I’d have a ride home. I had to make a change. I decided that, if my Kwantlen education has taught me anything, it is that I should not pay to be ticketed and towed while inside receiving said education. I stopped paying altogether. I felt great. I also called IMPARK to complain (and to tell them to stop towing my vehicle). They were quick to remind me of my numerous parking infractions (some legit, some not). But I was even quicker to establish that they would not be receiving another cent from me. We haven’t spoken since.
Now, I understand that my situation may not be commonplace. Though if you sit next to a perfect stranger in class and try to break the ice by saying something like, “That parking lot made of gravel sure is a crazy fuckin’ place, huh?” They will invariably respond with some near-death (or at least near-inconvenient) IMPARK experience of their own.
Ultimately, we as students, along with the KSA, should get organized and propose bill, sign a treaty, or maybe even start a revolt; anything to get a handle on this parking crisis! But until such a bill is passed, why don’t we follow Cute Girl’s lead and start with some passing of our own. If you possess a validated parking permit, pay it forward on your way out of the gravel pit. Too classy for the pit? This concept extends to even the most luxurious of Kwantlen lots. If pulling out of a numbered slot in one of the paved sections, roll down your window and tell one of the dozen-or-so stall scavengers impatiently waiting for your spot that it is paid for (only if it actually is). It will make their day. It will make your day.
I think Bob Marley even wrote a song about passing on your left hand side. I’m not sure if the man was referring to Kwantlen parking permits or not, but Bob Marley was rarely wrong. Oh, you like Bob too? Well I guess that’s two things we have in common.
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