KelCor Grows Up

For the last couple years, I have been obsessed with a band called Viagra Boys. Yep, I’m a 42-year-old goody-goody Mormon woman who loves a band that sounds like it should only appeal to frat dudes and/or middle school kids. They are a post-punk rock group out of Sweden who have songs called things like, “Man Made of Meat,” “Troglodyte,” and my personal favorite, “Punk Rock Loser.”

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Anyway, when I heard Viagra Boys were coming to SLC, I was SOEXCITED. This would be the first punk show I’d been to in many years; I couldn’t wait to jump around in the crowd, buy an ugly concert tee, and scream along that I also, “don’t seem insane/but I fuckin’ am.” I bought tickets with my buddy, Daniel, and the night of the show I was ready with comfy sneakers and the requisite black ensemble. I carefully stowed my small purse under the passenger seat of Daniel’s truck; anyone who has been to a punk concert knows you do NOT bring a purse.

We rocked out for three hours – VB played all my favorite songs, the crowd was great, and frontman Sebastian Murphy was as funny and charming as you could hope. As we walked out of the venue, I was full of post-show adrenaline and practically skipped the several blocks to where we parked in a cold, dark lot with a few dozen other cars.

I opened the passenger door, and attempted to move my coat off the seat (I also didn’t want to drag my coat around at the show) but something sharp caught my hand. “Ouch!” I screeched, and inspected my skin, tiny droplets of blood popping up all across my palm.

When I looked to see what in the world could have done it, I noticed shattered glass all over the seat, across the floor, and upon further investigation, all around the ground outside of the door.

“Daniel!” I cried. “The window’s been broken!” Realization hit me and I dug my bleeding hand under the passenger seat – my purse was gone. Punk Rock Loser, indeed.

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The thief (thieves?) only smashed my window in Daniel’s truck – no other cars nearby were broken into. Daniel called the police and filed a report, but we knew nothing would come of it. I got some small satisfaction in the fact that whoever it was didn’t get much of anything – I don’t generally carry cash, and I had my credit card on me at the concert. They did take a $50 gift card to Target, which I assume they used to buy some Joanna Gaines home decor.

HOWEVER this small act of thievery has been the source of endless annoyance and time-wasting for me for the past several weeks. Here’s what the jackass got, and the cost + process to replace each item. I will go from least frustrating/expensive to most frustrating/expensive:

1. Kohls card
   I haven’t been to Kohls in years, so don’t care at all. Do department stores still even use cards like that? Was that card a relic?
   
2. Insurance card
   No cost to replace, also had another copy at home. Also I lose my insurance card all the time, somehow.
   
3. Pill organizer
   Maybe $10, about ten years old, too. Complete with half a dozen Advil, some Pepcid AC, and my last Klonopin. I am a little mad about the Klonopin.
   
4. Temple recommend
   No cost to replace, probably expired anyway. Feels weird to know someone has it, however.
   
5. Purse
   $20 gem from Target. I have a couple more at home. NBD.
   
6. Debit card
   No cost, easy to replace. I did panic for a hot minute when I saw that my purse was gone and hurriedly put a hold on the card so no one could use it. The thief was too dumb and/or slow to hurry and use it, thank goodness.
   
7. Wallet
   $10 from trip to Guatemala. Irreplaceable unless I go visit again and somehow track down the exact same wallet. Actually pretty sad about this one. It was really cool and made me think about the trip all the time. Idiota!
   
8. Driver license
   Ok, now we’re getting to the heavy-hitters. In order to replace my license, I had to go to the DMV website and fill out some forms and make an appointment to go in. Then I had to hunt through all my Crap until I found my Social Security card and Passport. Then I had to actually remember said Crap on the day of my appointment (I did not remember it). Then I had to reschedule the appointment and remember all the Crap and postpone a work meeting AND wash my hair because they were going to take a new photo. The photo is always distressing, but especially so now that I have gained a ton of weight and can’t figure out how to style my new haircut. I finally did all the things and then waited about 10 weeks for my new license. The picture is…fine.
   
9. Mail key
   I nearly gave up on this one before I even began. Do I call someone? Look something up online? Who would I even call? What would I Google? Thankfully, I was on a walk one day and passed our mailman as he was coming into the neighborhood. I asked him how to get a new mail key and he said I would have to go to the post office IN PERSON and fill out a form. This feels over the top to me. Go in person? To a place? The guy at the post office was nice, however, and told me to come back with a piece of mail with my name and address on it plus my ID plus $40. Sigh. I procrastinated and stressed over this list of steps for weeks before I finally did it. The same post office guy gave me 3 mail keys and told me to be careful with them in the future. I honestly felt chastened.
   
10. House key: This one was the most important to me, seeing as some weirdo was out there with my house keys AND my license containing my address. I had a hard time sleeping until I got the locks changed, imagining waking up in the middle of the night to a scary dude in my bedroom doorway, most likely brandishing a gun or knife or Samurai sword. My dad decided all my door knobs and locks were old and ugly, so took it upon himself to change everything out. Grand total was around a hundred bucks of parts, but who knows how much labor would have been if I had to pay someone to do it. I slept much better after those were done.
11. Car key: ugh, this was the wallet-killer. I wouldn’t have even bothered changing the locks in my car, but my parents were so worried that somehow the thief would know what kind of car I drove, find it, then use the car key they had stolen to get in and hide in the trunk until I got in and then they would murder me. I may be exaggerating that a bit, but that was the general idea. It was 500 friggin’ bucks to get it rekeyed, which is absolute highway robbery.

As I dealt with this ADHD nightmare, I kept thinking, what should I have done differently? Taken my purse with me? Left it at home? Looked around the parking lot for signs of car-window-smashers?

But if you know me, you know that I lose my purse (or keys, headphones, work badge, etc) at least once a week. This was bound to happen at some point, so instead of kicking myself for all the trouble it put me through, I can just be grateful that the thief didn’t get anything great AND I got to see Sebastian Murphy dance and scream about bog bodies for a couple glorious hours.