Freak factor

You know, if I were to grow antlers and breasts, contract leprosy, and walk around on stilts, I still don't think I would get stared at as much as I am when I drive around Basel with Virginia license plates. People don't think twice about literally stopping in a crosswalk in front of the car to look at my plates, then at me, then back at my plates before moving on. And don't even get us started on the border guards--we pull up and you can see their eyes light up as they get ready to look at all our paperwork. Luckily there is an unmanned border crossing into France if we just don't want to deal with it.

(I know the solution is to get Swiss tags, but this involves dealing with the local motor vehicle bureaucracy--some co-workers have nightmare stories--and I have a year to drive with my current tags, so I've been avoiding it.)