Someone should write a primer for guys like me – “Spokane Parking for Dummies.”

A chapter could be devoted to the use of automatic ticket machines during special events in downtown Spokane.

Key sections of the chapter would focus on why you should bring the correct currency to special events. Why you shouldn’t panic and cram debit/credit cards into ticket machines indiscriminately while others in line are waiting impatiently. And how to read signs hurriedly at street-level lots – in the dark and otherwise.

I’ve been dealing with bad-parking karma recently.

It began on New Year’s Eve when I didn’t display my mother’s sticker after I pulled into a handicap spot at our small Hayden church. I figured no one would complain as I helped my 80-something parent from the car to the church. I was wrong. “Hey,” the church janitor jabbed good-naturedly, “don’t you know you’re suppose to have a handicap sticker to park there?” I mumbled a lame excuse about the sticker being in mom’s purse.

I attended service without displaying the ticket from my rear-view mirror, a slight obviously noticed by the parking gods.

A week later, I felt lucky when I found a parking spot in a lot on North Bernard Street in front of the Spokane Opera House. My wife, daughter and I had tickets to the Saturday matinee of “Hairspray.” We’d left Coeur d’Alene early to give ourselves time to deal with possible icy roads and to search for the elusive downtown Spokane parking spot. We had a half hour to spare when I eased my car into space 110 between two other vehicles straddling my lines.

My wife and daughter crossed the street, leaving me alone to handle the parking fee. That’s when things fell apart.

I had two twenties, a five and two ones in my wallet. I figured five or six bucks would cover parking for two or three hours. I was wrong, of course. I should have learned not to underestimate the cost of parking in downtown Spokane during the Christmas holidays. I was charged a bundle to park in the River Park Square garage by an attendant who refused to recognize my store-validated parking stub.

I was stunned that parking for the play was $10.

Alarm replaced sticker shock when I realized I had to buy a $10 ticket to place on my dashboard from an automated machine adjacent to the regular orange collection box – and the machine didn’t provide change. I thought about driving the car several blocks to River Park Square garage. I resisted the urge to curse the Spokane Parking God who had frustrated me on other occasions. Then, I, in turn, jammed a credit card and my debit card into an available slot and punched buttons. I almost didn’t get my plastic back. Finally, when other theater-goers in line appeared equally confused, I folded a $20 bill and squeezed it into the slot for No. 110 in the regular collection box, crossed my fingers and joined my family for “Hairspray.”

As I enjoyed the high-energy matinee by the Broadway touring company, I had the nagging suspicion that Diamond Parking Inc. (a.k.a., Spokane Parking God) wasn’t happy. Infrastructure Deity expects commands to be followed exactly – and frowns on variations. It matters not that I live in Coeur d’Alene, where most downtown parking is free for an hour or two. Nor that I’d paid double for the privilege of parking near the Opera House.

A $25 ticket was waiting on my front windshield when we returned to the car. I didn’t see the green envelope until my daughter noticed it flapping as we drove along Interstate 90. I pulled off the freeway to see what it was. Diamond Parking Checker No. 11968 had dutifully noted that I deserved a ticket for “no advance payment” – this presumably written while my $20 was suffering frostbite in the conventional collection box only feet away.

The thrill of “Hairspray” was replaced by the agony of possibly paying $45 and counting – my original $20 plus the $25 fine – to park in Spokane. The ticket warned that I’d be charged $50 for the ticket if I didn’t pay in 15 days and that Diamond Parking reserved “the right to refer unpaid accounts to collection.”

I was relieved that no jail time was involved for failing to follow the letter of the parking law while complying with its intent and more by overpaying.

I want to say that’s how things ended. That I considered the risk of not paying and becoming a Spokane parking outlaw. That I was treated rudely when I appealed to Diamond Parking the following Monday. But a nice woman on the other end of an 800 number asked me a few questions and then voided the ticket. I didn’t have to fume or threaten never to frequent Spokane again. Diamond Parking had dampened my theater experience and then thwarted my anger.

Damn you, Spokane Parking God.