I know! Seriously?
The bank guy was all like,
"You know that is what a notary does, right?
I WATCH you sign it."
And I am all like, NOT IN THE MOOD. Just notarize it!
Which he did.
Then he told me my license was getting ready to expire on my birthday.
Gulp!
I NEVER look at my license. Do you?
It is like my gas tank.
Never.
Pay.
Attention.
To.
It.
When I recounted the whole bank event including the license expiring soon story, Monte reminded me of HIS incident.
As a cautionary tale.
Picture it. Atlanta circa 1995. Monte was living with his friend Chris and I was living with my friend Andrea. We were engaged to be married that December.
(Monte and I, not Andrea and I.)
I don't know why, but Chris and Monte decided to drive all the way across town to Smyrna to work out at a gym there.
On the way home from the gym, in Monte's hunter green Honda Accord (could that color BE MORE 1990s?), a cop pulls them over.
Monte is not speeding because Monte NEVER speeds.
But that is another story.
The very southern police officer pulled Monte over because the license plate on his hunter green Honda Accord had expired.
Southern Cop asked to see Monte's license.
That had expired too.
So he asked to see his proof of insurance.
As Monte saw the card, he remembered opening the envelope that contained his NEW insurance card and setting it on his desk
back in his bedroom.
Yes, his insurance card was expired too.
It was the Trifecta of deadbeat procrastination.
BUSTED.
Southern Po-Po asked Monte to get out of his car and cuffed him.
Did you read that?
He CUFFED him.
All in front of his friend Chris.
I guess one of the cuffs was really tight and cutting into his wrist.
Monte brought it to Southern Cop's attention.
Southern Cop grabbed Monte's head and shoved him in the back seat of his police car.
(Without so much as an "I'm sorry, let me fix that for you." So much for Southern hospitality.)
So Chris was left without a ride on a very busy interstate in Atlanta.
Did I mention it was hot?
And he was wearing very short running shorts?
I got a call from Chris telling me all about Monte and Southern Cop and jail.
But I didn't believe him.
Monte and Chris had been calling me all morning joking and teasing about what we were going to do that night.
I thought it was a joke.
Monte thrown in jail for having expired tags, license and proof of insurance!
Good one!
When I finally got it, I had to go to the Smyrna jail and bail out my future husband.
Chris had dropped off Monte's wallet and car keys. I remember he had changed and smelled good getting ready to go to an outdoor performance of Air Supply.
Which was part of the jokes and teasing earlier. Yet there he stood, actually going.
After I paid the gajillion dollars, Monte walked out of the cell holding a Ziploc bag with a red gumball and 2 shoe strings in it.
What MacGyver move did they think he was capable of with that?
"Hey, baby!" Monte said like he hadn't just been in jail for a few hours.
(It took me a while to find the Smyrna jail.)
I immediately wanted to know if there was anyone else locked up with him.
"Yes."
I needed to know if they talked.
"A little."
I pushed on to see if he found out what they had been thrown in for.
He assured me that he did not push to know their offenses lest they push to know his.
Since Monte didn't know how long his incarceration would last, he needed to keep any of the street cred being a naturally big guy afforded him.
Having to admit the very white-collar-whimpiness of his offense, would've put him in at the bottom of any jail hierarchy.
Shudder shake.
We had to pay another gajillion dollars to get his car out of the impound lot. And he had to update all of the aforementioned expired things and appear in court to prove it.
Monte worried what my family and friends would say of his,
albeit brief,
but incarceration nonetheless,
so close to our wedding.
I told everyone.
He needed to learn that a good story on my tongue is like money burning in another's pocket.
So, I guess I am getting my license renewed tomorrow.
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