The "Good Way to Spoil an Evening" Story

It was an ordinary day. We are heading to Grand Case in St. Martin for supper. Grand Case is considered the culinary capital of the Caribbean and had an endless variety of meals. Anything from meals made on an open fire to fine dining in elegant restaurants. Haven't decided what or where we will eat tonight. We enter the north end of the town and travel the narrow street towards restaurant row. Parking is usually at a premium. Wow, right in from of the restaurant Il Nettuno is a parking space. It's one of my favorite places, but we're not sure we are ready for fine dining tonight. We park the car and as we get out I notice the owner is standing in the doorway watching us. We continue down the road on foot and I said to Carol that he didn't look happy I parked in front of his place and we didn't go in for supper. Well, we decided on California Restaurant tonight and after having a great meal, headed back towards the car. "What's this?" I say to Carol as I notice a parking ticket on the windshield. The owner is still standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. I'm positive he called one of his friends at the police department and had them come and ticket my rental. Said on the ticket I parked in a loading area. Carol and I looked all over the street and building for a sign and found none. After calming down, we drove back to our hotel. The next morning I talked to the manager of the hotel and asked him for help. He made a few calls and told me that he doubts I will be able to get out of the ticket. "Where do I go to pay for it?" I asked him. "Police Department is only open on Saturdays for paying parking fines," he told me. "Geez, we have to leave on Saturday," I tell him. "What happens if I don't pay the fine?" He tells me that the fine will be assessed to my rental company and they will have to pay it. If they don't, then the next time I try to enter St. Martin, I will be taken to the police station to pay it, plus another fine for leaving the island without paying my ticket. "Now what do I do?" I ask the manager. We have been going to the Alamanda for a few years now and we have become friends with the manager, so he tells me to give him the money and he will drive to the police station on Saturday and pay the fine. Just how well do I know this guy and can I trust him to pay the fine? And .... if he doesn't pay it, what will happen when I arrive next year? Carol and I talk it over and I give him the $50 plus another $10 for his time and hope for the best. Never heard from the car rental company so I figured everything was OK. And as you might have guessed, we did head back the next year for another visit. As we exited the airport upon arrival, there is a patrol car by the curb. Couldn't believe this was happening. And ..... it wasn't. I just naturally panicked , but didn't need to. The Gendarmes (police in French) were just visiting checking out the new arrivals. We found our name on the cardboard being held by the rental guy, and off we went. It will be many years before we eat at Il Nettuno again, I'm sure. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.