For our anniversary last night, I managed to get us a table at Ray’s The Steaks in Courthouse. If you’ve ever been to the shopping center on Wilson where Ray’s is hidden, you know that there are three other restaurants in the same little area, and that parking for that little shopping center is about 20 cars for what amounts to 80 to 90 tables. It creates a situation wherein parking to go to dinner is a combat sport, best undertaken with a healthy dose of bloodlust, and the luck of the Irish.
Between Guajillo, Ray’s, the Bistro and Pho 75, these are some popular little restaurants, the wait for which is usually a deterrent to actually going (well, except for Pho, where it’s crowded, but there’s always a spot at one of the cafeteria tables) and the parking situation made it equally bad. We managed to get a spot on Wilson about half a block from Ray’s, and considered it a moral victory, if not an actual one. As we were waiting for a lull in the traffic, we saw this guy in an Infiniti skulk through the parking lot looking for a departing customer, only to park his car in the no parking zone immediately outside the parking lot.
I applauded his ingenuity, treating the prohibition against parking as an invitation to leave his insanely expensive vehicle in a tow-away zone as some sort of gourmet treat for the rabid tow-truck drivers of Arlington to scoop up in their giant metal maw. I watched him head straight for the liquor store, which I thought was wise, given that his car may or may not be there when he got back. I mean, at least it gave him real options, in case he did get towed, right? Get a little Kahlua, maybe some Coca Cola, and you can get a nice little buzz on walking up to the Clarendon tow yard where they put your car when it’s snapped up by the towing company.
Sadly, we didn’t get to see how this story ended up, as we were to busy enjoying some sherried crab bisque and a giant NY Strip, and then heading off to the movies. But I’d like to think the jerk got his car towed.