Welcome to Baltimore. Here's a parking ticket.

I've moved. I've found coffee shops with wifi. I've gotten settled in and am working on building a niche for myself in Baltimore's grassroots arts scene. I've got a horrible bed, but a bed nonetheless, in a private stateroom in my new floating home--a home with reasonable rules and a constant flow of tourists during daylight hours. There's really nothing quite like feeling like a demonstration of how a sailor might have eaten a bowl of cereal back in the '40s. This morning found me in the chiefs' galley, munching happily away on my organic soy crisp, occasionally being interrupted by a tap on the glass door by a visitor who wanted to know if the refrigerator was real.

The ship is old and the paint is peeling in places, the floor is absolutely a popsicle, but the shower is hot and there's ample storage for all of my clothes and crap. I'd upload photos but i realized last night that i forgot my camera charger, so i may have to send home for it. I bought a rug today--i just couldn't bring myself to put my socks on every morning balancing on my slippers. I'm located at the absolute center of Baltimore's historic tourist district, and within easy walking distance of a Whole Foods, cafes, restaurants, bars, libraries, and shopping i could never afford. I'm next door to the Hard Rock Cafe, the national aquarium, a waterfront mall, hotels, Filene's Basement, and millions of screaming babies. Prime residential area? Probably not. But its interesting to be at the hub of everything.

Several young people manning the cappucino machines around here have mentioned that they visited my place of work on school trips in their elementary days. Living Classrooms is apparently a well-reputed local institution, which is awesome to hear. I hope I'm cool enough for them. I start tomorrow, in what looks to be a painting/scraping/cleaning position, if the antics of my captain on Friday were any indicator. We'll actually start sailing after Easter, and I think i'll feel more like a ship's mate at that point.

Sheezus its cold! But it's dry and clear. SC was having a bizarre spell of cold humidity, by which i cannot abide, just on principle. The weather is honor-bound to adhere to certain rules of decorum, even in the south. If it is cold, it should be dry or raining, not humid.

Anyway. the pier manager told me to load my stuff aboard between 11pm and 9am, when ticketing was not enforced and i could draw my car up next to the ship. So I went out of my way--for hours--to comply. I parked my car 20 miles away, in Owings Mills, in a free parking deck, and took the subway into town. I had my orientation and then wandered aimlessly for the rest of the day, meeting people and essentially running into things, with just my purse and my coat. At 10:30 I got back on the train, rode out to its end, and collected my vehicle. I pulled into the lane by the ship at 11:14pm, hauled all of my stuff aboard by myself as quickly as possible, put it in my room, locked the door, and returned to my car. it was 11:36. I'd received a parking ticket for $52 at 11:32 for "parking on the sidewalk and impeding the movement of pedestrians." mind you, this lane is wide enough for two cars to pass easily, and indeed the meter maid may well have driven up in a car to ticket me and drove past. If a pedestrian were to need that amount of space to not be inconvenienced, that pedestrian would be too heavy to stand up without his femurs shattering. Moreover, there were no pedestrians in the area, on account of the closure of everything a pedestrian might feel inclined to visit. And its clearly stated on their pier policy that they wouldn't do it. So the pier manager printed off their policy information and a map of the area, and has written me a letter on company letterhead to the effect that I was doing exactly what I should've been and kindly-stick-it-in-your-nose, but i have to go contest it in traffic court. Welcome to town. Here's your summons. I don't just want the ticket to be dismissed. I want a formal apology. I want the judge to say "Sorry about that, we're really nice people here, welcome to our fair city, have a book of clip-out coupons to local businesses."

Is that too much to ask?