Me and a friend walking out of a drug store.
Outside is parked a fancy dark suv. Tinted windows.
Not exactly an unusual sight around here, but the license plate was:
"8"
That was the number. Not 18. Not 88. Just 8.
I pointed it out to my friend.
Needless to say I was jealous.
"There are people who would kill for that plate!" I bitched.
"Who do they know at the registry to get that plate?!" I whined.

"Nobody" came the reply.
The owner/occupant + her entourage came up from behind us.
They didn't stop. One of her handlers opened the door for her.
As she got in she glanced back at us and said:
"I used to be Secretary of state."

The door closed, they sped off, we just stood there.
I guess everybody needs their drugs.