The new rates will apply for six-hour windows around each qualifying event, set to take place two hours before and four hours after special events. Meter enforcement citywide is also expanding, with some meters now active until 10 p.m. The change comes after the City Council quietly passed sweeping parking reforms in June that enabled "dynamic pricing" and other aggressive cost hikes. According to city officials, the policy is in line with practices in cities like San Francisco, where event parking can hit $12 an hour. But unlike San Francisco, San Diego’s public transit infrastructure remains patchy and unreliable—a critical flaw in the city’s argument that higher prices will push drivers toward buses and trolleys.
While city officials insist the new revenue will be reinvested in local parking and mobility improvements, the broader budget reality reveals a more concerning motive. Facing a deficit of more than $350 million, the city has unleashed a flurry of fees, from newly implemented trash pickup charges to inflated parking fines, in a desperate bid to balance the books. Parking has emerged as one of the city's largest new revenue generators, expected to haul in at least $29 million annually, including through newly legalized surge pricing and extended meter hours. The money must, by law, stay within the meter zones, but that hasn’t quelled concerns about overreach and exploitation.
Critics argue the policy amounts to a regressive tax on working families, service workers, and everyday San Diegans who frequent downtown for entertainment, employment, or errands. While vehicles with disabled placards remain exempt, there are no discounts or exemptions for city residents—a detail that’s drawn ire from community leaders like Councilmember Sean Elo-Rivera, who said in July that residents are "subsidizing the pleasure of visitors."
While city officials insist the new revenue will be reinvested in local parking and mobility improvements, the broader budget reality reveals a more concerning motive. Facing a deficit of more than $350 million, the city has unleashed a flurry of fees, from newly implemented trash pickup charges to inflated parking fines, in a desperate bid to balance the books. Parking has emerged as one of the city's largest new revenue generators, expected to haul in at least $29 million annually, including through newly legalized surge pricing and extended meter hours. The money must, by law, stay within the meter zones, but that hasn’t quelled concerns about overreach and exploitation.
Critics argue the policy amounts to a regressive tax on working families, service workers, and everyday San Diegans who frequent downtown for entertainment, employment, or errands. While vehicles with disabled placards remain exempt, there are no discounts or exemptions for city residents—a detail that’s drawn ire from community leaders like Councilmember Sean Elo-Rivera, who said in July that residents are "subsidizing the pleasure of visitors."
This isn’t an isolated case. In parallel, the city has also moved to monetize parking in Balboa Park, proposing a three-tiered paid parking system that would include the zoo lot and cultural core. Seniors and employees of local nonprofits have expressed alarm, with some fearing closures if attendance dips. At a July City Council meeting, Balboa Park puppeteer Paige Turner voiced the frustration of many: "They want to charge us to go to the park? It’s not a theme park."
Meanwhile, neighborhoods like Pacific Beach and Hillcrest have seen new meters installed in recent years under the guise of promoting "turnover." But residents and small businesses argue they’re being priced out of their own communities. Restaurant managers have called the fees unfair and out of step with actual parking demand.
City officials defend the strategy, citing climate goals, traffic concerns, and comparisons to other urban areas. But the core issue remains: San Diego is offloading the cost of poor planning and structural budget imbalances onto its residents. When the city frames parking enforcement as environmental policy while simultaneously exploiting it as a cash cow, the credibility of those environmental arguments suffers.
Case in point: the city's deeply troubled 101 Ash Street project. What began as a real estate misstep - an asbestos-contaminated office tower purchased for $86 million - has morphed into a case study in fiscal mismanagement. Now slated for conversion into low-income housing, the project’s projected cost has ballooned to $267.6 million, translating to nearly $1.1 million per unit for 247 apartments - making it the most expensive affordable housing development in San Diego’s history.
Meanwhile, neighborhoods like Pacific Beach and Hillcrest have seen new meters installed in recent years under the guise of promoting "turnover." But residents and small businesses argue they’re being priced out of their own communities. Restaurant managers have called the fees unfair and out of step with actual parking demand.
City officials defend the strategy, citing climate goals, traffic concerns, and comparisons to other urban areas. But the core issue remains: San Diego is offloading the cost of poor planning and structural budget imbalances onto its residents. When the city frames parking enforcement as environmental policy while simultaneously exploiting it as a cash cow, the credibility of those environmental arguments suffers.
Case in point: the city's deeply troubled 101 Ash Street project. What began as a real estate misstep - an asbestos-contaminated office tower purchased for $86 million - has morphed into a case study in fiscal mismanagement. Now slated for conversion into low-income housing, the project’s projected cost has ballooned to $267.6 million, translating to nearly $1.1 million per unit for 247 apartments - making it the most expensive affordable housing development in San Diego’s history.
While the city isn’t contributing cash directly, it will loan the building’s appraised value and won’t see any repayment until at least 15 years after project completion. To date, the city has spent nearly $200 million on acquisition, maintenance, and legal fallout, all while the building remains vacant and uninhabitable. This is the kind of high-risk, low-return deal that leaves residents questioning whether their city leaders are managing public funds with care - or playing developer at taxpayer expense.
As Padres fans head downtown in September, or try to catch a concert or a Savannah Bananas game, many will be met with a bitter realization: the city they pay taxes to is charging them $60 to leave their car on a public street. With skyrocketing housing costs, record-high utility bills, and now inflated parking fees, one has to wonder - how much more can San Diegans afford to give?
Because this new Special Event Parking Zone doesn’t feel like smart policy. It feels like punishment on San Diegans who support their downtown landmarks.
As Padres fans head downtown in September, or try to catch a concert or a Savannah Bananas game, many will be met with a bitter realization: the city they pay taxes to is charging them $60 to leave their car on a public street. With skyrocketing housing costs, record-high utility bills, and now inflated parking fees, one has to wonder - how much more can San Diegans afford to give?
Because this new Special Event Parking Zone doesn’t feel like smart policy. It feels like punishment on San Diegans who support their downtown landmarks.
Originally published on August 4, 2025.
