OK, not really. But I *did* get pulled over yesterday on my way to A Joy Forever to teach classes. My rental car had expired plates, apparently. There was also no registration in the glove compartment, but I had my rental agreement so I gave him that, plus my license, plus my insurance card. When he came back to the window I thought I was in the clear until he pointed at my rental agreement and said "Where's THIS car?!"
That's when I started sweating.
I had upgraded, you see, because the guy at the counter took one look at my burgeoning luggage cart and two antsy kids and suggested that the tiny compact I had reserved wasn't going to cut it.
So I upgraded to a cute little Volvo S-40 which still barely held all of our luggage and two boxes of class kits, but in the name of all that is sporty and fashionable . . . who cares?! Heh
But let's get back to the side of the interstate where Officer Friendly (thank goodness) was asking me why the rental agreement didn't reflect, oh, the car I was currently driving. (Technicalities . . .so hung up on the technicalities!) I stammered out that I had upgraded and didn't know why the agreement didn't say so. He then noticed my cute license plate purse, asked about it, we discussed its features, and then he let us go with advice.
The advice was to call up the rental car agency and tear them a new one. I thought it was particularly good advice.
I tried to do some tearing today, but the lady on the phone seemed more annoyed with the officer for not noticing the prominent temporary registration sticker that she confidently stated was on the back window. "They know better. They should have just called that in!" she said, not particularly sympathetic to my plight.
Unlike face-to-face meetings with store cashiers who want to charge me sales tax on favors and make me comply cheerfully by performing some sort of Harry Potteresque backbone-removal spell, I am surprisingly confident on the phone with rental car agents who are annoyed when I bother them with trifling little issues like being pulled over for expired tags. "Well that may be," I said, referring to her statement that the police are supposed to 'know better', "But I didn't rent the car from the police, I rented the car from YOU, and I was inconvenienced and nearly late because of it!" (The logic . . . so good at the logic!)
She had to call me back. In the meantime I checked and found that Officer Friendly was completely correct. There was no temporary registration on the back windshield. There was a license plate with expired stickers on it. When she called back and I told her about it the tune changed immediately. I was invited to return the car for another of the same model with apologies and suck-uppage.
I love suck-uppage.
I love the free Wi-Fi in the airport.
I have the keys to a red S-40 to replace the blue one. The tags are supposedly not expired but I shall check as soon as I drag myself away from this technological heaven.
Karl is begging for the computer to feed his Webkinz.
The classes went swimmingly! The store was large and lovely, the owners and staff were awesome, and the students were amazing! (Yes, even you, K2!)
I would type more, but Karl seems to think that since it's his birthday and all, I should be more generous with the computer. Oh, and the family is waiting on the pizzas we're picking up on the way home.
NDQOTD (Give me some of your tots!)