I got back into town right around 3 o'clock in the morning on Monday. It took a good 45 minutes for my luggage to show up, so I was pretty tired when I got in my car and headed home. I was the only car on the road as I headed south on 19, cruising (crawling) along at a city standard of 45 km/h (gotta stay under the speed limit). Well, eventually a car pulled up on me very fast, and hugged my bumper. What's up with that, I thought to myself... it's a cop. After a minute and a half, her lights come on. Speeding? No. She ran my plates, basically out of boredom, and I wasn't registered. $115. Welcome home. Be careful, the streets are pretty slick tonight. Thanks.
Earlier that night, in Vancouver, it took me 45 minutes to check the bottle of duty-free vodka I'd bought for a classmate. Lucky the plane was almost two hours late, otherwise I'd have missed it. Well, it gave me something to do. I was surprised that a glass bottle in a plastic bag actually survived being checked.
Happily, Monday was redeemed when Rococo called me to go for a late lunch at Moxie's. The thing is, while the atmosphere there is great for a slow mid-afternoon meal, the menu has become tiresome. A new restaurant to hang in is needed, but none is evident.
Anyways, to (almost) quote Bruce:
Nineteen Street Northwest
Ridin' on a snowy night
'Neath the refinery's glow
Out where the great black rivers flow
License, registration, I ain't got none
But I got a clear conscience
'Bout the things that I done
Mister state trooper, please don't stop me
Please don't stop me, please don't stop me