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(Yet Another Reason) Why Westwood Sucks

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Aside from septuagenarians and UCLA freshmen, I have no idea why anyone would willingly choose to live in or around Westwood, a neighborhood whose motto should be Westwood: Where Fun Goes to Die. Every time I think Westwood can't sink any further into the morass of suckitude in which it dwells, it manages to surprise me by sinking even lower. Sweet Westwood, how do I despise thee? Let me count the ways.

Reason #147 Why Westwood Officially and Universally Sucks
The public lot on Broxton, one of the few places visitors to Westwood can actually find parking, closes at 12am Mondays through Thursdays. And when I say closed, I mean CLOSED. The door to the stairwell is locked, the elevator is turned off and an imposing metal gate shutters the entrance. That parking lot is like a fortress. I discovered this in the most painful way possible last night at 12:30 am.

Sure, there may be numerous signs conveniently posted everywhere informing visitors that the garage closes at 12am, but how can they expect a reasonable human being to remember these insignificant details after three bourbon-and-ginger-ales at the W Hotel?

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On the plus side, I know a great place where you can store your car overnight in Westwood. Take a tip from me: tell the cashier on your way out that you've lost your ticket, and you will only have to pay the "maximum" of $8 as opposed to the $11 you'd otherwise have to pay.