But Officer, I Forgot!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: My friends, I am here to confess to you; I was stopped by my town police while driving to church last Sunday. Not, like, all of them - this wasn’t OJ’s white Bronco chase. I knew what the officer was going to call me out for. Maine requires two license plates, fore and aft, and at some point while racing from store to store last December finishing my Christmas shopping, my rear plate had fallen off. I don’t know how many stops I had made - and how often I had slammed the trunk again and again tossing in gifts - but by the time I noticed, it was long gone in some forgotten parking spot.

I was embarrassed to be stopped, of course, because I knew I should have gone to the town hall and gotten replacement plates and unscrewed the remaining old one in the front and screwed in two new plates… but I was busy, darn it. And now seven weeks had gone by. 

I was so flustered, I first tried to hand the officer my credit card instead of my license. Then I had to go digging through my glove box, hauling out paper, oil change receipts, the emergency bag of almonds (thanks to Hank, I always carry some) etc. etc. It felt like forever before I spotted my registration. He went to run my info while I frantically searched through my phone for my insurance info. (Pro tip: actually download it and store it somewhere well marked instead of leaving it in your mail, where a search turns up every email your insurance company has ever sent you.)

I triumphantly showed him the card when he returned. He then informed my my registration was overdue.

By two years.

TWO YEARS!!!! 

Twenty-one months, to be accurate, but let’s not kid ourselves. The last time I had registered my car was May 2022. 

You know what was even more mortifying? This isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten. I went five months over back in 2020, although the state was being very lenient due to the Covid shut down. I forgot again in 2018, and got a ticket for it. I didn’t want to spend half a day in county court to argue it, so I just checked off the “guilty” box and mailed in the fine. I think this means I now have  criminal record.

There’s something about car registration that completely escapes me. I can track my inspection, because the sticker has the month peel off; I see it every time I get into my car. I’m very good about oil changes; not only do I have the Prompto reminder right on my windshield, but my oil gauge shows me the percentage if  - actually, I don’t know what it is. But once it goes below 50% I’m on alert.

The state of Maine, meanwhile, relies on a little sticker on my license plate and my memory, which is always a bad thing to bet on. I mean, how often do you LOOK at your license plate? I was in church the week before the registration fiasco and my car was blocking the old-folks home bus. (Another mortifying instance.) Someone made an announcement in the parish hall during coffee hour and only mentioned the license plate number - and I didn’t recognize it! Friends, I’ve had the same damn plates since 2016. It wasn’t until the priest came in and said, “A black Honda Accord” that I shrieked, swore, apologized for swearing in front of Fr. Worthy, and dashed off to move it.

The state of Maine sends me a reminder about renewing my drivers license. The town sends me reminders to pay my taxes and license my dogs and subscribe to the ambulance service. How had could it be to mail out a postcard?!? “Hey, Julia, we want you to know you need to pop over to town hall and renew your registration.” Isn’t that more important than a dog tag? (Okay, I do also have to provide proof of their rabies vaccine, and that is important.)

The story ends well. The very nice cop told me to go to church, come straight home, and hit up the town hall Monday morning. All of which I did.  Now I have to figure out how to remind myself to get that registration NEXT year…

Dear readers, have you had E.V.I.L run ins? (Embarrassing Vehicular Incident w/t Law?) And how do YOU keep track of when you have to register?

My Most Embarrassing Moment

RHYS: One thing I've learned about writing books is that my own most embarrassing moments make great stories, especially in my Royal Spyness series when I want my heroine to do stupidly embarrassing things. My readers chuckle because they can identify with Lady Georgie and know that similar things have happened to them. Isn't that the essence of comedy--that we appreciate the situation because we can see ourselves in it?

Anyway, as we all know, the embarrassing incident wasn't funny at the time. In the first Royal Spyness book, I describe Georgie modeling an outfit for her friend the fashion designer, only to find she has put both legs into half a pair of culottes. This actually happened to me and I wanted to die at the time. So it counts as one of my most embarrassing moments. Another that springs to mind from a whole lifetime of mini-disasters was when I thought I saw my friend out jogging, early morning. I was driving. I screeched my car to a halt in front of her,leaped out and did my best monster imitation. Only it wasn't my friend. It was a guy with long hair. A look of terror came over his face. He turned and sprinted away in the other direction as fast as he could.

So... confession time, dear Jungle Reds. Inquiring minds want to know your most embarrassing moment--at least your most embarrassing moment that can be put on a blog.

HALLIE: Mine was recent. I'd gotten up really really early to catch the subway to the airport for an 8 AM flight out of Logan, schlepping my rolling suitcase. When I get into the subway station, I hear the announcement: "The next train to Alewife is now arriving." My train. I can hear it rumbling into the station, squealing to a stop.

I find my subway pass, race through the gate, pick up my suitcase and hold it in front of me like a shield as I charge up the escalator. The train is there, doors open, I can see it... Just a few more feet.

Then my foot catches on the top of the escalator, I fall and go sliding, like I'm tobogganing ON the suitcase, across the platform. My glasses and purse (which is of course unzipped) go flying.

Fortunately the doors of the train are closing and the platform is empty. And I lie there, unhurt, wondering what in the world I was thinking? Later, when I get to the airport I'm still 2 hours early.

RHYS: Oh no, that's more scary than embarrassing. Did you get close to the railway line? I felt really stupid when I tripped over a concrete berm in the parking lot and broke my wrist. But then it hurt so much that I forgot about feeling stupid.

HANK: Ah, horrible, Hallie. And I agree, Rhys. Scary. And yours is just--hilarious.

Do I have to tell this? Sigh.

Short version: Someone asked me if I knew a certain guy. Instead of just saying "Yes," and stopping (like a normal, reasonable, smart person), I said, "Oh, yes of course I do. Are you his mother?"

And of course, it was his wife.

HALLIE: Reminds me of when I asked someone when she was due, and turned out she'd had the baby six weeks ago.

DEB: Oh, God, Hank, I'm cringing for you!!!! But it is pretty funny. I'm sure I've done too many embarrassing things to count over the years, but one of the most recent happened in London last year. I occasionally have severe rotational vertigo related to an ear condition. What "severe rotational vertigo" actually means is that you have a sudden drastic fluid shift in your inner ear, and your brain translates this along the lines of the world flipping upside down. Meaning you go down like a felled tree.

The day after I arrived in London last spring, I went, as I usually do, to Saturday Market at Portobello. I visited with my photographer friend who has a Saturday stall, went to get something to eat, and as I was walking back to the stall the vertigo struck. I just managed to get both hands out in front of me as I fell, quite literally, flat on my face. On the cobbles. I suppose it was better that it was in front of someone I knew, as strangers might have called an ambulance, but oh, ow, so HUMILIATING.

ROSEMARY: I had to think long and hard about this - perhaps because I've buried the memory of the truly embarassing moments in my life. (Why remember the bad stuff?) I do remember complimenting a man on his book at a dinner party once and I was actually referring to a book written by someone with a similar name. He was very gracious about it. I felt like a total idiot.

JAN: TOP THIS GUYS. When I was a cocktail waitress working at The Eliot Lounge, during college, we had to wear black Danskin skirts. Or maybe they just had to be black and the only one I owned was a Danskin skirt. Anyway, it was nylon, and it tied around your waist. As I was walking through the crowd with my tray full of drinks over my head, the skirt untied and fell off. The only saving factor was that the floor was SO crowded, very few people could see. Also, I was only twenty, that helped.

I also went through a plate glass window at The Heidelburg Lounge in Passaic, trying to sneak in when I was only fourteen and the drinking age had just lowered to eighteen years old two weeks before. Yes, I was an adventurous teenager all right. It was on a Friday the thirteenth. Luckily I didn't get hurt or arrested.

HALLIE: Oh Jan! I was hoping that 'the only saving factor' was that you had on a slip... or were wearing underwear... or...

RHYS: I notice that Julia and Roberta are not coming forth to share embarrassing moments. Perhaps we can persuade them to confess in the comments.
Can anyone else top our embarrassments? I actually do have some that could not be put on a blog without serious damage to my reputation...

ROBERTA: Okay, it took me a while to dig this out of the recesses of my repressed memories. I was a freshman in college and desperate to be cool. So when a guy I liked suggested attending a porn flick, I borrowed an ID and we went. They questioned me at the ticket office and wanted a drivers license too, but finally we got in. The movie was DEEP THROAT. Utterly, utterly humiliating to sit through that next to this boy I barely knew--other people got up and left but I was too embarrassed to say a word. Sigh...now your turn Jungle Reds...