Parking Frustrations in Edmonton, by Beatrice Daily Huser

Bea Daily Huser laments over the frustrations of parking at Edmonton hospitals

The advances - and the changes - in modern technology can be quite overwhelming to a senior schooled in the horse-and-buggy days.

On a windy, early May day, I drove my Alzheimer partner of sixty years across the city to the Grey Nuns hospital for a medical test. (I HAVE mastered the eccentricities of my Ford Taurus). After depositing Hal and his walker at the front door with the admonition, "Wait right here for me." I find my way to the visitors' parking lot, pull the ticket from the machine, enter and park. I look carefully at the chit; a pointing arrow, no directions such as "Place face up on dash", nothing about where to pay. I leave it in plain sight anyway, take careful note of where I am parked, hurry across the lot and find my way to the hospital entrance to collect my husband.

We are right on time for our 10:15 appointment in the Day Medical Department. Friendly staff expedites our movements; for once there is no waiting. The test is over in a matter of minutes. As Hal and I traverse the long hall back to the entrance lobby, I notice the time - 10:45.

Again I station my husband by the door and go to get the car. I drive around the lot to the entrance. Yes, there is the machine, ready to take my parking card. I place the card in the slot, arrow pointing the right way. Nothing happens. Now what?

A car honks behind me and a man's voice calls, "Did you pay your parking fee?"

"No. There's nothing on the card about how to do it."

"You have to pay inside the hospital."

"Inside the building! Why don't they tell you? Now what do I do?"

"You have to drive out of here, re-park, go pay and get your card punched."

Sure enough, there is a driveway curving to the right, leading back into the lot. Obviously I am not the first to be caught in this predicament.

Finding an empty space in which to park isn't easy, but I finally spy one. My eighty-years plus frame almost breaks into a sprint as I cross the lot and follow the walk around to the hospital door. I pause by Hal leaning on his walker, his thick white hair blowing in the wind, long enough to say, "Just keep waiting. I haven't been able to get out of the parking lot yet."

As I look uncertainly around inside, a young lady (sixty-ish?) inquires, "Can I help you dear?" and shows me where to feed my card to the machine. "Two dollars and fifty cents comes up in big red numbers in the upper left-hand corner. Dutifully I push the toonie and two quarters into the waiting slot. But something is wrong. My card won't eject. I have to have it to get my car out of the lot. But wait! A new figure has appeared in the payment box, ".35". Now what?

"Information" is just across the lobby. I explain my predicament. "You do probably just deposit another 35 cents," the lady says, "But I'm not sure. There's a phone on the front of the machine that will connect you to security. Just pick it up and phone him."

I check my change purse. I have exactly 35 cents and some pennies. I pick up the phone. A voice, a man's, says, "What can I do for you?"

"I can't get out of the parking lot." There is a quiver in my voice. I hate that. I tell my story to the voice. But wait! There's a big red figure in that upper-left corner: "$3.50". Voice sees it too (somehow).

"I don't have any more change," I say, "just bills".

Voice: "Did you get your money back?" "No".

"There's a little compartment on the lower left. Is it in there?"

I check, feel. "Why yes it is".

"Good. Now pull your card back out and read me the time on it."

I search the stamped data; "9:57".
"Hmm - the $2.50 is right. Now listen" (I feel like a child). "Take all your money back out of the compartment. Go back to your car. When you get to the gate, pick up the phone that's hanging there. I'll answer and let you out. You don't have to pay today."

I follow his instructions. When I say into the phone "You said you'd let me out of the parking lot", I hear, "right", and watch as the red arm slowly lifts. Thank you voice.
I drive back around the loop to the front door. A big DATS van is sitting there. I pull past it and can just see my husband, still there waiting, thank goodness. I double park and honk the horn. No reaction. I push the down button to open the window. "Hal!" I call. He doesn't heed me. A lady on the walk looks toward me inquiringly. "Could you please tell my husband to come to the car?" I yell. "The tall man standing by that post, wearing a Norwegian sweater". I have to repeat myself and she understands. She talks to Hal. He totters toward the car, peering at me as if he's thinking, "Who is this strange lady that wants to give me a ride?"

Finally we are away. I leave Hal at VON Day Support for a few hours and go home to make myself a refreshing cup of tea.