I got new license plates on my lunch hour today. The airport made me do it. Everytime I go on a trip I park in the back 40 so that I can take my hang tag with me to wherever I’m going, and it’s always a challenge to find a non-permit spot where I can guarantee I won’t be blocked in.
So now I should be happy, right? Park conveniently at the airport, take the tag with me.
I’m depressed. I’m marked for life, driving Grandma’s car.