Val is Public Enemy Number 9,999

No. I didn't steal a camper off the storage unit lot. I've committed a crime far more insidious than broad-daylight Backroads-highway robbery.

Friday, I went to the bank. You know, the one where the teller practically called the police, when I tried to deposit a check from my credit union down the street, and she called the St. Louis branch that the check was written on instead, and they denied cutting me a check (because they hadn't).

Anyhoo... I stopped by the bank with a threefold purpose. To deposit money in The Pony's account that he only uses to pay his bank-issued credit card. To withdraw our weekly cash allowance. And to trade three ones for a roll of nickels and two rolls of pennies. Gotta have correct change for my daily 44 oz Diet Coke.

Because I seem to be always on the verge of criminality with my bank of 30 years, I make sure I'm prepared every time I go inside. Always have my checkbook to show the account number to prove I'm actually a patron. Make sure to take in ID. Point out that The Pony is on a JOINT student account with ME. That's because one time they denied my deposit into Genius's account there, even though I had his printed deposit slips. Apparently, it's against the law to deposit money into an account without your name on it, even though that person has the same last name and address as you.

Anyhoo... I walked through the door and saw NOBODY waiting! There were two tellers in their windows. Both greeted me. The one on the left was the gal who almost had the paddy wagon after me. The gal on the right I'd never seen before. So of course I went to the right, saying nonchalantly, "I don't know which of you wants me, but I always turn right."

Just then, the Would-Be Val Arrester had a customer needing her at the drive-thru. Needy said, "I just deposited my check for $290, and I'd like to know what happened to the $90!" Uh oh. My Teller turned and said over her shoulder, "Only two hundred is available the same day. That's probably all it is." So Would-Be Val Arrester looked it up on her terminal (without any pertinent info that I could tell). She must have just served Needy, and still had the account on her screen. Because she glanced at it, and said, "That's right." And went to the microphone to explain. She must be some kind of rule-stickler crusader.

Anyhoo... My Teller looked up The Pony's account and took my money and gave me a receipt. Then I gave her the withdrawal slip for the weekly money from Hick's and my account.

"Do you have ID? I only ask because I haven't seen you in here before."

"Sure. I usually use the drive-thru." [unless I'm trying to rip them off by depositing a fake check]

Imagine my shock when I pulled my driver's license out of my shirt pocket, and saw THE UGLIEST MUG EVER SHOT BY THE DMV.

"Oh, no! I've brought in my old license! See? It's expired. I can go out to the car and get my current one. It will only take a minute. Should I do that?"

"No. It's okay." She shoved the old license back at me.

"Seriously. Would I give you a picture like that if I was trying to pull something? It's so embarrassing. The other one is better. I just grabbed the wrong one."

My Teller counted out the money for me. Then she gave me my coin rolls. It was almost as if she was in a hurry to get rid of me! I gathered up my moolah and went back to T-Hoe. First thing I did was get out my checkbook to shove that old license in there, and make sure I had the legal one.

IT WASN'T THERE!

Well. Wasn't THIS a fine kettle of fish! I didn't have a valid driver's license with me! I was driving without a license. I felt so ashamed! As soon as I got out on the road, I called Hick, who was at his Storage Unit Store.

"I just lost my driver's license! I'm driving without a license! I just found out at the bank. All this time, I've been driving around without a license, thinking it was in my purse! There are only five places it could be: in one of the four shirt pockets that I wear to town, or my gambling purse. I don't wash those shirts every time. I only wear them for an hour or two, to get my soda, and back home. So I hang them back up. I'm wearing one now, so my license could only be in one of the other three, or my gambling purse. I think I took my license in Country Mart the other day, when I was worried that their card-reader wouldn't work, so I took in a check and ID."

"Oh, well. It'll turn up. When you get home you can look, and if it's not there, you can go to the license office and get another one."

"Yeah. They have it already. They're not going to take another picture. They'll just mail a new license to me."

"They might take a picture."

"No. Then everyone who didn't like their picture would be saying they lost their license. Believe me, I spent 6 years stewing over that scenario. Don't you think I'd have tried that, rather than use that bloated-face drunken-eyed picture?"

"Yeah. I guess you would've. Anyway, they won't make it right there. They'll have to mail it."

"I know!"

Good thing we only live six miles from the license office. So I calmed down, knowing the worst scenario was a few dollars, and an extra hour of my time. When I got home, I searched the shirts, but the license wasn't in the pockets.

The left outer pocket of my gambling purse held the last player's card I'd used, and the right held two of the local casino player's cards that I'd left behind on our last CasinoPalooza. The zippered money pouch inside only held money. Snap leather money pouch only held money. The zippered quilted pouch held some Puffs, chapstick, bandaids, AND MY VALID DRIVER'S LICENSE!

You know what this means, right?

Val has been driving without her license since she returned from CasinoPalooza 5 on June 15.