Perhaps one of my favorite moments in life is when two things I adore unexpectedly collide into each other and rest comfortably together, like combining two flavors of gelato (grapefruit and cinnamon, anyone?) so they wind up sitting gloriously and deliciously side by side. It is rare to experience such surprise. Today, though, the world gave me the gift of running and English all together.
Am I a grammer geek who shudders at misused semicolons? A merry meanderer who thinks not learning to diagram a sentence is a travesty? A simple samaritan who is tremendously thrilled to edit a couple of paragraphs? You can bet your fairy Godmother’s wings that I am. I may be full of pleased praise when it comes to running, but my interests do wander from just fitness.
So there I was, jogging by Bark Park (aptly named because it is the dog park and because there are many trees there to boot), about to cut through an empty lot near the skate park (which has no fancy name other than a corporate logo), when I saw the sign that brought my language loving side such joy:
NO FAIR PARKING!
I instantly imagined perhaps a precocious person of a young age feeling left out by not being old enough to drive, and thus not old enough to park. Or perhaps the sign was put up to inspire random acts of surreality to the community, encouraging not to park fairly between the lines but instead perhaps file automobiles in sideways. Or maybe an old sage felt a spirit in the lot, and thus found it immensely impossible to imagine resting vehicles upon the asphalt of such a sacred place. What indeed would fair parking look like?
Of course, I thought that perhaps the sign should really read “Unfair Parking!” since the only humans that really are using “No Fair!” in their lexicon are children being controlled by adults, and adults who are behaving like children, typically during sporting events.
Only then did I notice the top of a Ferris wheel poking out from behind a row of coniferous trees, close enough that I could see all the little seats were empty (with good reason–it was not even nine in the morning yet, and funnel cake couldn’t possibly be the best breakfast food). Oh. No Fair Parking. As in, the Orange County Fair.
Mystery solved, I continued running.