Back From the DBKL

So I called up the DBKL and asked about my car after lunch. They said it was there, it'd cost RM$355 and I'd have to bring either my ownership documents of the car or my insurance policy.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck.

I explained that the car was under my father's name and I'd rather not involve him. He said I could get a letter from a lawyer or something (I didn't really understand this bit, my Malay not being too good) and I told him I wouldn't really know how to go about doing that.

"Hold on," he replied, "talk to the boss."

I explained my situation, how I didn't want to trouble my dad (read: I didn't want my dad to find out for fear of castration) and that I really needed the car.

"Answer me this," said the boss, "can you pay RM$155 right now?"

RM$155? I thought it was RM$355.

"Sure. Yes."

"Ok. Pop on over."

I got the details: my little car was towed to an area called 'Jinjang', notorious for it's Chinese-gangland-ghetto-ness. This should be fun. I called a cab and made my way, all the while wondering about this money business. Did he really say RM$155? Or was it still RM$355? I don't have RM$355. Was this RM$155 some under-the-counter shit? I couldn't care less. I just wanted my car back.

I got to the place and could see my car in the lot: my lil' red Kelisa, my Rosalinda.

I walked over to the police hut (taking off my shoes as I did so). The boss was sat behind the table, a huge 'healthy' (by Asian definition) man, intimidating. The other cops were sat around watching a Filipino soap opera. I filled out the forms, all the while wondering about the whole money issue. Why was it RM$355 if done officially and RM$155 when I had none of the documents to prove the car was mine, save for my car keys?

I gave him the forms and one of the cops shut the door. "This must be it", I thought, "this must be when they ask me for some 'tea money'". On the TV, some guy on a beach threatened a girl that he could get her to stop talking in two ways: cutting her tongue or kissing her.

I never enjoyed the process of bribing cops. I'd bribed cops in the past, my dad's bribed in the past, hell, every human being I know who drives a car in this country has bribed a cop. But it always freaked me out. The cops here aren't buff, muscular cops. But they ain't no Wiggum. If they ever made a 'Training Day' style movie about Malaysian cops I bet you the Malay cop would beat Denzel's ass any day screaming "King Kong tak ada tahi atas aku!!!".

The boss turned to the others, then to me... and gave me a receipt.

Eh?

"Go pay the fine and fees at the building across the street then come back."

...okay.

Maybe there was some guys there that I was supposed to give it to. I walked over to find an official counter for the payment of summons' and other such city council fines. The lady took my receipt, asked for RM$155, I paid her and she gave me another receipt to give to the boss.

Aha. Now I understand. This is the official payment. Now I've got to make the unofficial payment. I walked over to the cop hut, gave the boss the receipt... and he stamped it.

"There you go. Car's outside."

On the TV, the chick chose the kiss as opposed to having her tongue cut.