Oh Galveston, Seriously Now
Written by Lyssa Graham 

It must be something in the water. Not oil, thank goodness, but something else, something that makes Galveston residents just a wee bit quarrelsome. Then again, it could be the heat, the humidity and the threat of hurricanes.

Most likely it's the parking. Lord knows Galvestonians - born here or not - have concerns about parking. In fact, given the rhetoric from all sides, you'd think everybody on the island lived in their cars full time, just wandering about in circles hoping for a parking space, drumming their fingers on their steering wheels, sobbing gently as they circle back for the nine millionth time in the hopes of finding an available nine by 22 feet slot of real estate in which to deposit their cars and, at last, release themselves from their rolling metal prisons.

Terrible, really.

It's not as if we don't have plenty of parking spaces. We do. The problem comes when people are faced with the threat of having to pay to park in them.

Because paying for parking is clearly against all laws of man and religion and probably physics too. Imagine the horror that would follow if we all had to put a few quarters into a meter every time we parked our cars. Why, family budgets would crumble under the strain. Tourists would abandon the island completely, shuddering with fear over the thought of contributing to the local economy.

Right now, honest hardworking Galvestonians and tourists alike are forced by the godless-commie-right-wing-theocracy we call a City government to pay dearly to park our cars in a few parts of exactly one, single, solitary four by five block area of town. It's insanity, I tell you. What on earth is the world coming to?

"But Lyssa," you screech, "the City will be installing more parking meters downtown any day now. Then we'll have to pay to park in the entire four by five block area of downtown. The next thing you know, they'll try and make us pay to park on the Seawall - which, should it happen would clearly signal the end of the world and the beginning rumblings of Armageddon."

Really? Really? Galveston, what's the big freaking deal about paying to park your car on the Seawall? I ask, because if you listen to the continual debate, you would think that paying any amount of money to leave your car anywhere is utterly inconceivable. Probably unconstitutional too. Maybe even dangerous to health and sanity.

Let's take a gut check here, shall we? Galveston residents: When is the last time you parked on the Seawall? Honestly? I've lived on the island since 2003 and I can't remember the last time I parked on the Seawall. Sure, I live a couple blocks back from it and can walk to the beach any time I choose. Can't remember the last time I did that either though.

For that matter, I don't even drive the Seawall during June, July and August. And a couple of weeks in March. Too many damn people there for me. Too many people who have, you guessed it, parked along the Seawall. For free.

And that's the problem. Drive west down the Seawall from 6 th Street and count cars some summer day. Now multiply that number by, I don't know, five dollars. You're going to need a calculator because that's gonna be a damn big number.

Now, while some of you are doing the math and the rest of you are warming up your computers so that you can start furiously tapping out your hate e-mails to me, let's think about it for a second. Pretend you are a tourist. What do you want on the Seawall? Would you like to rinse the sand off of your feet before getting back in your car after the day at the beach? How about taking a potty break? Would you like to do that?

Well you can always pour one of your plastic bottles of water over your feet before tossing the empty over the side of the Seawall (which, if there's any justice in this world, will result in your going straight to hell) and step into one of the lovely plywood-shack-encased porta potties before hopping in your car.

You could. But I'll bet you'd rather not. In fact, I'll bet that most tourists would consider paying five to ten dollars a day to park directly adjacent to the beach, a beach with clean and safe restrooms and showers, a bargain. If the parking dollars also helped put sand back on the beach, so much the better.

"But what if the tourists park in the neighborhoods instead?" you say. They already do. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse aren't cruising down Broadway because of it. Anarchy has thus far, not ensued.

"But it blocks the view," you warble. Really? The average vehicle is between four and six feet high. The only way it blocks your view is if you are standing directly beside it. Move three feet to either side and your view will be magically unblocked. Take a few steps forward and now you are blocking the vehicle's view. Feel better?

"But I live here! I shouldn't have to pay to park on the Seawall!" Then don't. Park in a parking lot, walk to the beach, ride your bike or just stay home. Whatever you want to do, it's cool. All I'm asking is that we think about this before we screw ourselves for good.

Paid parking has never, to my knowledge, led to war, pestilence, famine, disease, mass hysteria, or even rickets. I say we give it a shot.

Lyssa Graham is based on Galveston island because she can't afford to park anywhere else in the United States. Contact her at Lyssa@LyssaGraham.com

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