Wednesday, April 6, 2011
No more WRITR for me.
See that license plate up there? I don't have it anymore. It is gone, gone, gone. That's because it was on the car that was stolen a week ago. Get this - it was taken from a parking garage that I was paying to use while I attended a hearing for the day job. That's right - my car was stolen from across the street from the courthouse. And the thief PAID to take it out of the garage. The car was insured. But the plate is gone. Even if I get the car back, the plate will apparently forever be on the "stolen" list. Like writers do when they experience tumultuous emotions, I tell myself I can use this experience. I can use that initial feeling of disconnect that emerged as I realized other car were now parked where I left my car. The optimistic belief I must have parked on a different floor that slowly seeps away as I wonder up and down the levels of the garage, to be gradually replaced with the sense of total bewilderment at the realization that someone truly has stolen my scratched and dented 5 year old PT Cruiser. The offense experienced when the first question asked by police is whether I was behind in the payments for the car (to be fair, I was offended because I thought they were suggesting I arranged to have the car stolen for insurance money, but I later realized, they were asking in case it had been repossessed.) The frustration as I waited for hours to make the official report. The hope at hearing that cars are recovered 75 percent of the time. The eagerness at each unfamiliar phone number that shows up on the caller ID (might be Metro saying they found the car!). The disappointment when that call does not come. Someday soon, a car thief will meet an untimely, but painful end in one of my stories. Or perhaps that car thief will merely end up making personalized license plates.