As you might remember for my Coast to Coast move I used to be the owner of a majestic Florida panther plate.

Emphasis on used to be.

just looking at it fills my eyes with tears

I know that I have been back in Washington since this past summer and should, technically, already have a Washington plate since I’m a resident. Trust me, I know these things. I think the avoidance comes in part from the psychological damage of getting a license plate in Florida and also I’m cheap and had my Florida plate and tabs valid until March of this year. It’s the small things I do to “screw over” the states I live in.

I have mentioned before about the “living in sin” in the south and what a giant pain getting my Florida plates and license was. Even now a year and a half later I still get the chills thinking about it. It was the first time I had transferred my information to another state (while in Arizona I was a student thus did not have to become a resident) so naturally that meant I didn’t know what the (pardon the language) fuck I was doing. This coupled with the whole, again, sin and judgement factor I got for living with my boyfriend OUT OF WEDLOCK in the south just… the idea of having to do the whole process again sounded less appealing then the nine cavities I had drilled this fall.

I’ve had so many good times with my Florida panther plate as well so didn’t want to give them up yet. My brother and I constantly joked around about it calling it “so proud” and “majestic” whenever we’d see it. When one of us was driving like a jackass in a slightly aggressive fashion we’d joke that the cars we’d pass (or Mark cut off) would claim it’s an honor to be cut-off/passed/etc off by such a proud panther.

I know my family is weird. Trust me, I know.

So here I am, the Monday before Christmas, and already upset before this whole situation went down. Looking back I can’t even remember why I was upset (probably the little things getting to me) that day since I had a blast seeing Avatar with a group of people. Afterwards I curled up into bed and watched some Law and Order: SVU before going to sleep. I was falling asleep fast, ladies and gentlemen, curled up in a ball of warmth and enjoyment that SVU provides –

– until my brother got home and text me asking me if my license plate was stolen.

Great.

Rushing upstairs I went outside and, sure enough, my license plate and screws had been stolen off my car that had been parked on the street. I’d like to say I handled the situation in a level-headed fashion and calmly went inside after seeing this but of course I didn’t. I burst into tears right there on the street (remember the little things) as I stared at the naked back of my car and wondered who the hell honestly steals license plates off of people’s cars? Right before Christmas?!

I went into the house sobbing and swearing. I demanded my brother answer me who would do this thing? Who would steal someone’s license plate right before Christmas? Didn’t they know that fate/whatever was already having a shitfest on me and the license plate was the last thing I needed? Mark, in his typical doctor level-headed-ness, assured me that it wasn’t the end of the world and to calm down.

Since that is exactly what you want to hear when you’re sobbing and upset.

I called my Mom, still in tears, to tell her of my misfortune (it now being 11:30pm) and ask her what to do now. Once she woke up from her dreamland stupor she informed me that I needed to call the police and inform them of the plate being stolen. Now, I don’t know if my Mom is super paranoid because of her job but she can sometimes be convinced that everything will be linked to a crime. She suspected (as did all of her co-workers) that the plate was probably stolen so that someone committing a crime could use it on their stolen car.

My majestic panther was going to be corrupted. Awesome.

So I called the non-emergency police number to report the plate stolen and I seriously think the operator thought I was a nut-job due to how upset I sounded. She took down my information and, half an hour later, another person at the police station called and took down all my information so that a police report could be filed.

I wish I could say that this is the end of the story but it’s not. I don’t know how many of you have had your plates stolen before but getting your plates replaced when you don’t have any? Kind of a major pain in the butt. It’s like a life lesson in “you should really replace your out of state plates asap” that I hope you learn from my mistakes. The following morning was spent calling the Florida licensing office to report the plate stolen, calling the Washington licensing office to figure out what they needed of me, calling my car financing to get a copy of the title, etc.

Again, I don’t think I can put enough emphasis on the point you should learn from my laziness and “sticking it to the state” of not replacing my plate and tabs until they expired: just replace them within a month of moving. Else you might lose your majestic panther and your heart will fill with bitterness.

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