Missing Lego Piece Can Teach Lessons

The little things really count. How many times has that one been rehearsed? Maybe it’s time to ask once again.
My grandson, Jason, is a whiz when it comes to putting together Lego® plastic models. I shudder when I hear the words, “Pop Pop will help you put it together.” The fear stems not from clicking wee parts together, but from knowing there are so many multi-colored parts in any Lego® creation, the loss or misplacement of just one will severely hinder successful completion.
Thank goodness, Jason is farther advanced than am I in construction principles of those miniature bumped squares and winged shapes. Fortunately, my “help” really means he simply wants to sit close while he amazes me with his spatial and cognitive expertise. I sit dumbfounded as the lad clicks and snaps, rarely referring to the included instruction booklet.
What I truly hope Jason gains from all that work is something very valuable through life: If one tiny part seems insignificant in the beginning, the entire project will look cockeyed. A wing will not set properly; the axle won‘t work, as it should.
Come to think of it, this relates a lot to our tourist-dependent county.
We residents don’t see what our vacationing tourists see, which is often what we never or seldom experience.
Take inanimate parking meters, just for instance. They are my archenemy. I loathe them. While they might generate income for cash-strapped cities, I will ride to an unmetered part of that town and a walk long distance before dropping a coin(s) into them for the pleasure of staying a while 30 minutes. Have I ever paid to park? Yes, when I was time constrained, and knew I would be done within 15-30 minutes.
How insignificant (like lost Lego® pieces) are parking meters in the tourism landscape? Consider the plight of our reporter Deborah McGuire. While in North Wildwood, covering a North Wildwood Beach Patrol event for families with children having 21 Down syndrome, she dutifully put her cash into the parking lot kiosk, punched in her parking space and got a receipt. She then placed it on the dashboard and went about gathering the story.
She was not the only parker there on that triple-digit hot day; others were in the same lot and faced similar insults.
After sweating and getting sandy, taking a splash of sea water on her camera’s lens, which dried into a hazy space in the photos, and doing her best to get the story about the visiting families, guess what?
She returned to her vehicle, and found — guess what? That’s right, a parking ticket. Here’s the rub: Her receipt, printed at the kiosk, stated 2:16 p.m. was the time limit. The ticket was written at 2:01 p.m. That’s 15 minutes before expiration.
Having never gotten a parking ticket, and incensed at the idea she got a ticket for something she paid to cover, knowing she was right, she presented herself at the municipal court office. She was not alone. Others there commiserated similar incidents of having fed the kiosk meter, being under the limit and getting a ticket on their windshield.
The resolution was to complete a form. A judge would review it, and in all probability dismiss the ticket. That doesn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat for visitors.
Like a “fender-bender” accident that draws no blood, never makes headlines, and results in nothing but headaches, such happenings are nothing major until they happen to you. Same thing with those parking tickets.
How many vacationers, say from Quebec, Canada, may not fully understand English or the procedures to pay to park. Getting such a ticket, how many would simply figure they transgressed in America, put a $35 check into an envelope and mailed it off?
Just as a small missing Lego® part will put a kink in a model, a $35 parking ticket could be a “craw” that sticks in a vacationer’s memory which is then used as a reason to go elsewhere in the future.
Believe me, after getting a $100 parking ticket in Washington, D.C. for remaining after the 4 p.m. parking cutoff opposite the Commerce Building, that’s one of the things we well remember as we recall visiting the nation’s capital. Sure, we had a great time, and brought home many great memories, but there’s that parking ticket that pops up to remind us just how unwelcome outsiders may be. We ask them to come, then take advantage at every turn.
How many Cape May County locals are affected by overtime parking? I point to locals since we are the ones who supposedly know the ropes, which roads to take when the traffic is horrendous, and where to find a safe place to park outside the realm of parking enforcement personnel. We know, but visitors do not.
Beach fees are another sore point with me. I understand why they may be needed, but think of beaches in Hawaii where surf is ten times bigger than on the Cape May County shoreline, yet lifeguards are rare. How do they manage without fees?
I think my point has been made. There are many small things that add up to a good vacation experience. Those include truly friendly wait staffs in restaurants, understanding clear instructions when strangers ask directions, and looking folks in the eye when we talk to them.
When Jason puts all the little Lego® parts together correctly, he has one fine model to enjoy. Get my point?