In Lantana, that’s the ticket
After pandemic pandemonium and isolation, a move back north and being holed up in a studio apartment in New York City, I’m back living in my beloved South Florida. As JetBlue moved south,
I already felt my New York attitude melting. For the first time in memory, it didn’t bother me when passengers burst into applause upon arrival.
After landing, I gunned it to Dune Deck in Lantana, my favorite breakfast hotspot on the Atlantic. I shelled out $4.50 for three hours of parking in the sprawling Lantana Municipal Beach lot. Chicken and waffles, 80 degrees and a glorious view of the Atlantic.
Paradise indeed!
How soon we forget. Less than two hours later, I headed back to my rental car. Who left that bright yellow ad fluttering on my windshield? What the hell? A $50 ticket? Hey, I still have an hour left. Boo!
Wait a minute — I parked in spot 214, but the ticket read 254. According to the citation, I had to pay within two weeks, or the fine jumps to $65, and from there, a collection agency, denial of vehicle registration, and then, public flogging. (I may have made up that last one.)
But this is a mere bag of shells compared to what the town did to Sandy Martinez earlier this year. When Martinez parked her car on her own property with two of its wheels grazing her grass beyond the driveway, she had no idea it would lead to more than $100,000 in fines (yes, you read that right) from the fine, fine town of Lantana.
Her case seems a textbook example of a “taxation by citation,” when a town abuses code enforcement statutes to raise revenue, according to The Institute For Justice, which represents Martinez.
Meanwhile, I notice my ticket provides no “not guilty” check box. Pay at Town Hall, or pay by mail. Seriously? I prepare my case like Johnny Cochran and show up at Town Hall. You plead not guilty? Sorry guy, for that you’ve got to drive over to the police station. A female officer greets me there, and I launch my sterling defense. “I plead not guilty because —”
“OK.” She prints a big “VOID” across the ticket, and ambles off.
OK? No explanation necessary? Sure I’m happy, but I also smell a rat. Is this my piece of cheese for fighting through the bureaucratic maze? Can it be the town is fully aware that most getting tickets are tourists, snowbirds or simply locals without the time or energy to show up and protest their unjust fines?
Where am I, a small town in rural Georgia? Nope, a small town in bustling South Florida. Got to reach those revenue goals somehow, right?
And the little guy is always the easiest target. Welcome home.