Odd Convergence

The other day, I was reading Antoine Wilson's excellent debut, The Interloper, when I ran across something that literally made me sit up in bed and go, "What the fuck?" It happened on page 21:

Her name was Patricia Stocking. Patty. P.S. Like the Palm Springs bumper sticker: P.S. I Love You, and the license plate I saw once on Palm Canyon Drive: PSIH8U.

The first car I ever owned was a 1982 Nissan Sentra that had been my sister Linda's 1982 Nissan Sentra before that, and, before that, had been Lee's 1982 Nissan Sentra, too. When Linda inherited the car, she went down to the DMV and got a personalized plate to voice her displeasure with living in Palm Springs, a situation rectified a few months later when she left Palm Springs under the cloak of darkness. Two years later, when I was of proper driving age, the Sentra became mine, where I then spent the next two years rollin' down Palm Canyon not picking up women, probably because my license plate indicated a boiling hatred because, of course, my license plate said PSIH8U. This was from 1987-1989. Which means Antoine saw me driving around in that car, with my bad keyboard-player from the Cure hair and, 20 years later, give or take, remembered it and put it in his book. Now that, my friends, is fucking weird. Fortunately, my sister Linda has long had a lawless streak in her and thus, through the magic of time and space (and a box in her garage) here's the plate: 

Update: It gets weirder. It turns out that not only did Antoine routinely see me, I saw him. Antoine drove an old BMW with a license plate that said THSPIAN which, for years, I used to see wherever I went. At the time, I didn't know what a thespian was and so Linda and I presumed it was a lot like a lesbian, to the point that we ended up using Antoine's plate as our code word for women we suspected were lesbians throughout our teenage years: Oh, she must be a thespian! [uproarious laughter, WHAM! on the soundtrack, the ironies thick in the air]. I even remember seeing Antoine at a Ralph's in Palm Springs (Antoine has confirmed my description of the teenage him, right down to his car) and then, later, in LA somewhere in the Valley. Come to think of it, I think I remember seeing him -- or his car -- at a Jane's Addiction concert at the Palladium, too.

Considering that both Antoine and I have written novels about people who pretend to be other people -- though his is much, much better than mine -- makes this no less freaky.

Comments

[Walt Bromley]

That is awesomely weird.

[Antoine Wilson]

Um, yeah, that is truly, truly, weird.

My parents had a time share in Palm Springs back in the 80s. We used to get out there about two weeks a year.

Indeed, I saw that license plate, remembered it, and then stuck it in my novel almost 20 years later.

I almost don't know what to think.

I guess I'm just happy you didn't return the favor, as my license plate back then was far more embarassing...

[Ellen Meister]

This is very very very very freaky. I can't imagine the shock of seeing your old license plate referenced in a novel. You must have picked up the phone and called someone immediately. Who was it? And did they believe you?

[Anea]

That is fantastic! :) Strange but excellent. What is funny is that I was thinking about that exact license plate maybe 20 minutes before I read your post...
Anea

[Angela]

How weird and ultimately cool that the author remembered your plate and that you knew his! And yeah, Thespian is way worse than PS IH8U! I love the plate though. Kudos to your sister for being funny and giving Wilson material for his novel. Thanks for sharing--that really is bizarre.

[Richard]

That is sick, man, cos I remember seeing both those cars in the Palm Springs area when my dad lived there. Weirdly small desert community....