License to Stop

Last night, after returning from my stimulating soiree, I was greeted by immediate MSN messages from dimps; one of the two people I had just said my goodbyes to in person.

dimps - okay. so when you come to pick me up tomorro morning, come up the long way. and i'll tell you why in the car tomorro. LOL
dimps - sorry. but when you come up the long way, look at the stop sign by KFC
me - fuck.
me - but I want to know NOW!
dimps - i know u want to know now..and chances are, it may not be there tomorrow.
me - so then?
dimps - but you'll have to hold off and see. and if you didn't see it...i have a picture to show
me - hahahahahahah
me - I guess that's okay

And so, like the true morning person I am, I forgot to drive the long way to dimps's place. But that was okay, because not only did she tell me about the strange sight she'd seen the night before, she had the picture of it to show me. And then tonight after drinks, not only did the same fit of giggles attack us both at the first stop sign we saw in our neighbourhood, but we made a detour on the way home tonight after drinks to see if it was still there. And then, not only was the sight still there, but I happened to have my camera on me to properly record the moment.

I swear we spent more time pulled over at the side of the road trying to take a picture of the damn things reflecting in the night than I spent shrinking, cutting, and pasting all of the pictures we took into a collage.





Okay, a little anti-climactical, but then, you weren't there watching cars watch us outside of the car with the four-ways on, trying to stay still enough to snap a picture of the damned license-plated stop-sign without a flash.

And that's why I married her.

But really, who doesn't notice the loud clang and the flash of sparks as their license place crashes off the back of their car in the quietness that is my neighbourhood? AND THEN, who the heck sees the lonely license plate, pauses to pick it up, and then takes the time to find materials with which to hang it off the nearest post (which happens to be the above stop sign)? Is that something you really retrace your steps for? It reminds me of the multitude of lost mittens through the winters that passers-by find and use to lovingly dress nearby fence-posts with.

For some reason, it always makes me feel a little sad to see all of those single mitts separated from their mates. They're like little love stories, trying to tell themselves to any strangers that might stop to listen.