You’d think I would have checked the website to make sure that MOCA is actually open on Tuesdays (seeing that I bothered to link to the darn website in my earlier post) before I drove all the way downtown, parked the stupid car, paid for the stupid parking, and hiked to the stupid museum from the stupid parking place. Only to find out the MOCA is CLOSED ON TUESDAYS. Not closed on Mondays, like every other blasted museum in the world, (except stupid LACMA, which is closed on Wednesdays).
You’d think that after having been to MOCA at least fifty million times since I’ve lived in LA, I’d know this without having to check the website. But you’d be wrong, because I only ever go on Thursdays, when it’s free all day. Unless, of course, I have to write a paper due on a Wednesday, and therefore have to go on a Tuesday, when I have no classes to interfere with my museum-going. Lucky me, I’ve got a contingency plan. What I don’t have, however, is the money I paid for gas ($2.50 a gallon, 25 miles round trip, gotta love Los Angeles) and parking to get to the museum to find out that it is actually closed. I also don’t have the two hours I spent finding this out in person.
You shouldn’t feel too bad; most museums have the good sense (which LACMA and MoCA lack) to close on Mondays, not, uh, in the middle of the week, when common-sense people should safely assume that they’ll be open. Also, there are certain unwritten laws of the universe that govern living and traveling in Los Angeles: 1) you’re destined to be parked on the 10 or the 405 for at least part of your journey; 2) chances are, your intended destination will be closed or in the midst of remodelling; and 3) you will search forever for a parking spot, only to pay a million dollars in parking fees once you find one. So, yes, I feel your pain.
Thanks, Michael. Those ARE the three unwritten laws of life governing LA : )
Murray and I decided we had a new mantra after we passed up a $7 all-day lot downtown in the fashion district, not wanting to spend the money, and parked instead at some confusingly-signed meter. We made it back to the meter with some time to spare, but one of the stipulations was that they did street-cleaning at 4 on Tuesdays, so you couldn’t keep your car there, even if you still had time on the meter. We showed up at 4:02. We got a $65 ticket.
Our new mantra? We love to pay for parking. We love to pay for parking. We love to pay for parking.
$65? Ouch. (And knowing Los Angeles meter cops, the guy was probably at your car at 3:59 just waiting to write the ticket.) Your mantra makes perfect sense.