I play this little game when I commute (or go on long car trips – anything to entertain myself, I hate being in a car longer than an hour). It’s called the Figure-Out-What-The-Hell-That-Vanity-Plate-Means game. Seriously people, you only get 7 spaces, if it’s not immediately obvious or you have to abbreviate out more than half of the letters, just stop!
1. There is a vehicle that parks in our office garage. I use the term vehicle loosely. It is one of the very few modes of transportation that I file under “utterly ridiculous.” It is a Cadillac Escalade pickup truck. (Really, what is the purpose of those things? So rap stars can go to Home Depot and fit in with the common folk?) Not only is this overpriced, oversized truck always in our lot, it’s in the visitor spaces, taking up at least 2 spaces several times a week, and the guy who drives it will nearly drive over you pulling in and out of the garage without even a second glance! But what is even more ridiculous is the license place:
Yes, I can tell from your choice of mode of transportation that you’re “high maintenance.” You’re probably also overcompensating for something else.
2. Then, the other day I was driving to the office, in my usual morning commute, when I came up on a Lexus SUV (*eye roll*) from Williamson County (a very affluent area; in fact the real housewives of Williamson County could put NYC to shame!). Didn’t take me long to decipher the plates:
Well if this guy really is a Mack Daddy, I need to see if it’s either Kris or Kross who is driving this car! I lay on the gas and pull up beside the driver side only to see a typical soccer-dad holding his overpriced-coffee-chain cup. Really guy? You’re the Mack Daddy?