Before I headed down from Columbia to cover the festival, I told a Charleston friend that I planned to bring my bike. “Good idea, parking is hell,” she said. “Oh I’ve got great Charleston parking karma,” I replied. “I’ve parked for five days in Charleston and spent $5 on parking.”

But if there’s one rule about good karma, especially parking karma, it is do not brag about it. First day got a $45 parking ticket. Then my poor little car received the dreaded boot and I received the $35 bill to free her. So, dear City Paper, can I request a “pay attention to the signs, stupid” supplement payment? Yeah, that’s that I thought.

Riding the bike went better. Oh except for getting pulled over by the police for running a red light. He was very nice, I was very apologetic. I didn’t use the excuse that I’d just sat through A Midsummer Night’s Dream and was putting as much distance as quickly as possible between me and that.

Along with running that red light I have done all the things I hate seeing bike riders do: riding on sidewalks, going the wrong way down one-way streets, locking bikes to trees and nice fences. I’m sorry. I will try to do better on the parking and biking. But please get off my ass and go ahead and pass me.