The Airport, the Grandma and the Trooper

Trying To Not Get Towed

Just the other day, I was yelled at by a Massachusetts State Trooper and he threatened to have my car towed.

On one hand, this happened in Boston, so… you know, welcome to Boston. Nothing new.

On the other, I was literally boxed in. Unless my car grew a helicopter propeller and lifted me up over Boston Harbor, I wasn’t going anywhere. Also, I had an old lady to protect.

Let me explain.

After dropping some family off at the departure terminal of Boston Airport and unloading their bags to the sidewalk as we waited for a porter to come get them, I found myself boxed in by a series of other cars trying to do the same. No problem. I wasn’t in a hurry.

Then a younger lady pulled in behind me and ran around to the passenger seat. She had a elderly women in there who she needed to help into the airport.

“Do you think it will be ok if I leave my car,” she asked me. “I have to get my grandma inside.”

“Uh, probobly not,” I said honestly.

She gave me a pained look, and continued struggling to help her grandmother to get into the terminal.

“I have to leave it,” she said, “just for a minute. Can you look after it?”

“Your car?”

“Please!” she begged.

I sort of tossed up my hands and shrugged, not wanting to commit, but her grandma was also looking at me and I felt guilty.

In they went. The porters came and went, I said my goodbyes to whom I was dropping off, and there I stood by my car (and her car), waiting. And that’s when the trooper showed up.

Now, I won’t describe him because all I want you to do is imagine what a State Trooper would look like if it was late in the day, hot and he was assigned to work the departure terminal at Boston Airport. Yup, he looked just like that.

“Why are you here, you gotta move your car,” he barked at me, by way of greeting.

In response, I waved my hands vaguely at the four or five cars boxing me in.

“Whose car is this,” he said to me, pointing to the car of the lady who was inside with her grandma.

“Well,” I began, using my most polite tone, “that lady had to help her grandmother to get-”

“Nope, no way, she’s being towed!”

“Sir,” I said, not at all raising my voice, “her grandma was really, really old, and-”

“She’s not just going to get towed, but she’s going to get fined.”

I wasn’t certain if that was a thing.

“And I’m going to tow you in two seconds,” he said.

I wanted to point out that it seemed unlikely that he, himself, had the physical strength to actually tow my car. Instead I just held up my hands in a gesture that said, ok, ok, I’m going.

Traffic had started to inch along now, so in one final gesture of solidarity with the lady and her ancient grandma, I made a big - and slow - show of getting back into my car. I searched my pockets for my keys. I jangled them. I dropped them and slowly picked them up. I fixed my seat cover. I arranged my mirrors. I looked very very carefully at my surroundings before pulling out.

He was steaming. But I didn’t see any further sign of the lady. Sorry, ma’am, I thought as I finally pulled away, I hope I bought you an extra few minutes.

My initial feeling about events like this always tends to hue toward patience and empathy. Like, that grandma was really old and clearly couldn’t make it in there herself. But then again, the lady could have parked in a lot and gotten a wheelchair.

Angry trooper guy was just doing his job. I could have been more forceful to try to make him understand, but I saw no benefit in getting towed in solidarity with the lady.

Anyway, hope she made it out before that happened. And I hope the trooper had a better rest of the day. We’re all tired, and hot (or, you know, cold). Let’s just try to get through it all, shall we?