A few months ago, coming home after a day of thrifting in Palm Springs with The Brick House, Bneato and Elle, I got a red light camera ticket.
I’m still not sure why — the light hadn’t even turned yellow when I started coasting through it — but a few weeks later there it was in my mailbox. A photo of me, caught mid lip tug, as I crossed Santa Monica Boulevard. It felt uncontestable — I mean, they had photographic evidence and all — so I paid the damn thing, all $480 of it, and scrambled to find the eight extra hours to waste on online traffic school before my extended court deadline.
Of course, in the French farce that is my life, it turns out that that very same day, probably in the very same minute that I was answering the last quiz question, LA County decided to throw in the towel on red light camera tickets.
Whaaaat?, I responded to the LA Times when they shared that little tidbit on Twitter, they couldn’t have decided that…oh, just a few weeks earlier?
Can I….ummm…get a refund?