Central Parking System of St Louis

**NO SECURITY/​PATROLS** We had two cars broken into (busted out window on one and punched out lock on the other) while we were visiting the City Museum. The police officer explained that this is a serious problem here and that they target the out-​of-​state vehicles. They took our high-​end electronics, laptop computer, all our back packs, and my wife’s purse.
I’ve written the company in hopes that they would put security patrols at their parking lots.

If you are a tourist trying to see the Gateway Arch, save yourself the hassle that I experienced and just park on the riverfront (yes, at an angle and yes on cobblestones) and walk. I tried parking at one of the nearby lots that was a «pay the attendant if he is here» type. As I was exiting the vehicle, a couple of guys came up to me pretending to be the attendants. Just then, a guy in a truck comes into the parking lot and chases them off, and as they walk away, they say «he’s my boss». Not knowing who owned that turf, I bugged out and sought the open vista of the riverfront. Is this business as usual in that area?

Okay, maybe I don’t even have the right owner of the lot, but whoever owns the lot at Union Station needs to have a serious talking to their security guards.
When I pulled up to the curb to pick up my elderly in-​laws the other night after our ill-​fated trip to Landry’s Seafood, apparently the 30 seconds that I was sitting there was too long for the big-fat-I-have-a-badge-and-a-flashlight-so-I’m-in-charge-here security lady. I mean, this woman started sassing me and I’m all like…“Hey you rent-​a-​cop overfed piece of trash… back off.” I swear she was going to mace me or pepper spray me or whatever when I explained to her that my party was just now crossing over the bridge and they were a little old so they move a little slow. She’s all like «Oh no you diiiiiiiiint». Holy crap… talk about a power trip. I mean, it was cold enough to kill koi in their pond and she’s having a conniption fit.
Train your stupid security rentals in a little common courtesy. It was Sunday night at 6 p.m. and there wasn’t more than 20 cars in the whole friggin’ lot.
«Sir…you’re in the fire-​lane.» Okay… if I see a firetruck coming, I’ll move. Dumb bitch!