The Red Onion – Peel Another Layer

(1960’s)

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My father was always blessed with the ability not to let the big stuff get the best of him.  His temper was slow to boil and his approach to just about everything was to let things blow over rather than letting them ruin his day.  As a father he was fair but firm and we knew our limits and did our best to stay within them.  Even the calmest of people have their moments and for my father, it was best to keep a safe distance when he had his. 

On this particular night he only had a few minutes to spare and he chose to spend them having a beer at The Red Onion with friends.  In the 1960’s you could park right out in front of the place which meant you could make a quick pit stop for a beer and be on your way.  Much to everyone’s disappointment the city of Aspen started putting parking limits on all the spaces downtown and the spots in front of The Red Onion were no different.  Some nights it was like watching a choreographed dance as the patrons took their turns shuffling all the cars to avoid getting parking tickets.  Other patrons figured the cost of an occasional parking ticket in to their drinking budgets and never attempted to be a part of the “auto shuffle.”

Much like many of the activities centered on The Red Onion, the parking situation was no exception.  It could also be an undocumented fact that the police did their best to write tickets out in front of the place especially after all the false alarms that they responded to only to be the brunt of another practical joke.

After his brief visit allowing time for only one beer my father headed out of the place to his car parked nearby only to find a parking ticket placed squarely under his driver’s side windshield wiper.  His blood began to boil.  Without a moment of hesitation he grabbed the ticket and headed on foot at a brisk pace for City Hall.  City hall was three short blocks away and my father made the journey in record time.

Finding the first officer unfortunate enough to be standing in plain view my father made a bee-line for him as he waved the ticket with his outstretched hand.  “What is the meaning of this?”  He proceeded to make his point very clear that he had been parked there less than 20 minutes.  His rant included things like, “you guys sure are eager to write tickets” or “why don’t you go bother some of the other people in town.”  To be honest, I am not sure exactly what he said during his rant but it was sure to center around picking on the wrong people, inciting all the jokes that the officers brought upon themselves and a general displeasure with their actions.  He was on a roll and they were getting an earful.

Somewhere along the way a number of other officers collected around to be a part of the rant.  Keep in mind, Aspen was a small place back then and everyone knew everyone so you best choose your words wisely.  That did not happen on this occasion.

Finally one of the officers stepped up and took the ticket from my father.  After a brief glance at the ticket he declared, “Neil, this ticket is not even yours!”  It belonged to one of the other cars parked in front of the Onion.  Seems that my dad was victim to another one of the many practical jokes by a fellow “Onionite” not that he did not deserve it.

Sheepishly, without much he could say he quietly left the Police Station in embarrassment.  If he had a tail it would have been tucked tightly between his legs.  Luckily enough the officers chose to let his rant be enough of an embarrassment not to take any sort of revenge, I am sure they got a good laugh about it in the end.