Talking Shop

My brother told me that I was really risking a hefty fine by not registering my car in Los Angeles upon moving here. I did not do it and I continue to adamantly refuse to. I love my Colorado plates. I could say not registering makes it easier to spot my car, but the Buffs window decal and the fact that I am part of the 2% of Angelenos who do not wash their car frequently (ever) make my car stick out plenty. To be honest, I love my Colorado plates because I love Colorado. I flaunt them proudly and I have no desire to ever get rid of them. And, as I realized this weekend, I will go to ridiculous lengths to keep them.

Months rolled by and I didn’t register my car, my brother warned me that the fine would continue to increase the longer I waited. He also told me that after two parking tickets I would be forced to register. Three parking tickets later and my car still remains unregistered. But I still knew there was someone out there trying to take my Colorado plates away from me. What if I was pulled over for a traffic violation? I would have to explain to the cop where I was going without revealing that I have been sneakily living in Los Angeles with my Colorado plates for over a year.

I decided that I would always say I was going to ‘visit’ my brother. I mean, I’m sure I would be going to see him at some point that day or, at the very least, that week. And he does live in Venice while I live in Santa Monica, so I think the change in city makes it a legitimate ‘visiting’ distance. My ‘visiting’ story was locked down and parking tickets were clearly not an issue, but I was not at ease. And then, this weekend, my paranoia took a turn for the absurd during a routine interaction at the bank.

I was taken to a back desk to activate a new debit card. When the banker commented on my Colorado ID I thought nothing of it, and when he asked how long I had been in LA, I said a year. Shit. Now he knew that I have been living in LA with a Colorado driver’s license, and was no doubt driving a car with Colorado plates for a whole year. My mind raced, I should have said I was passing through, I should have said I had just moved, OR I could have been a normal person and realized this was a banker not a cop and he had no authority over my driving business. But it was too late; I was already panicked. The interaction continued with completely innocent questions from the banker followed by blatant lies from me.

Banker: What brings you out to LA?
Me: Oh, I go to school here.
Banker: Yeah? What school?
Me: Santa Monica College.
Banker: I went to Santa Monica College!
Me: Get out!
Banker: That is until I transferred to Cal State Northridge.
Me (as if considering Cal State Northridge for my next educational destination): What did you think of that?
Banker: It was great. It depends on what you’re major is. I went for business, but we have great psychology and communications departments. I don’t know what your major is.
Me: Neither do I! Still figuring it out.

The banker walked me out and we discussed how the recent renovations to Santa Monica College have really improved the appeal of the school. I have never set foot in Santa Monica College in my life.

When I reached my car and settled in I had a chance to reflect on the conversation and became upset with myself for several reasons:

HOW was I able to so fluidly bounce from lie to lie? Granted they weren’t good lies, this interaction was going to end before I could weave a tangled web and get caught in it. But, damn, I was shocked and impressed by how I directed those lies so effortlessly.

WHY didn’t I just recognize this banker as the non-threat that he is? He was making small talk, not investigating. And most importantly…

WHO was I? I didn’t even recognize myself. I jump at any and all opportunities to talk about CU Boulder and I opted to say I went to a two-year junior college? I couldn’t even flatter myself and say UCLA?

I’ve decided that from here on out I’m going to save myself the stress and trouble and just tell the truth when asked anything about my car. That is unless you’re a cop, in which case I’m visiting my brother.

On a separate note: I will try my best to write a post that actually tells you what is happening in my life not just daily interactions that I approach with nothing but alarming awkwardness. I'm going to Las Vegas this weekend for a friend's birthday party so I can pretty much guarantee something great and blog worthy will happen.

PS: I will shamelessly plug my twitter account again! follow me! senny24