When I saw the yellow jacketed cop standing next to my car and speaking into his cellphone, I knew I'd parked where I wasn't supposed to. But it wasn't the typical Romanian not-a-spot-spot; like on a sidewalk or a crosswalk, or blocking an intersection, or just abandoned in the middle of the road. I had parked by a restaurant on a small, cobble-stoned street with no traffic. In their infinite wisdom, City Hall had suddenly decided to get tough on parking in the area, even while the kind of traffic violations I described above routinely occur elsewhere in town without ever bothering the local police. I mean, it's fine, but let's just be a little bit more consistent about the standards we're applying. "Don't worry," I told the cop, who'd put the phone away and was studying the car, "I'll save you the trouble and just drive off." "Is this your car?" He looked at me like he didn't exactly hear what I'd just said,...