Let me preface this by making sure everyone knows that I am an idiot. I do not deny it. I do not defend it.
You may remember that last week, my landlady called the police to my apartment because my truck window was down. Quite the little fiasco. Thank you all for your support and revenge ideas.
Well, it’s Friday again, so apparently, it’s “that time of the week.” Only this time, the problem was MY fault.
I’m generally a law-abiding citizen. I’ve smoked pot a grand total of 11 times in my entire life. I try not to speed. I don’t steal. I play my stereo quietly so it doesn’t disturb the neighbors.
However, on the way home from work this evening, I WAS speeding. And I saw this furious looking cop standing by the side of the road, flip his lights on and gesture for me to pull over. I knew instantly that this wasn’t going to be easy.
Why? Well, I’m driving a truck that isn’t mine. I’m paying the lease for a friend of mine as a favor.
The truck has Florida plates on it. The MA plates are in the passenger seat. I wasn’t able to get the old ones off last time I tried.
And…I still have an Illinois driver’s license. I haven’t been particularly crazy about the idea of standing in line for several hours at the driver’s license facility on a Saturday. So I keep putting it off.
And…I was doing 40 in a SCHOOL ZONE.
The latter, I especially feel badly about. I can’t believe I was paying so little attention that I didn’t realize I was zipping through a school zone like that.
In any case, I was scared shitless, as I usually am, of authority. And the guy was bald and mean looking. Like Kojac with a chip on his shoulder. He had a gun and a badge and a scowl on his face. He was pointing the scowl and the citation pad in my general direction.
So, I did what I ordinarily do in such situations.
I cried. Not because I was trying to bullshit the officer or get away with anything by making him feel sorry for me. But because I simply couldn’t help myself.
So, just to recap:
1. Florida plates
2. Illinois driver's license
3. 40 in a shool zone.
Now how much would you pay?
Well…nothing. The cop gave me a warning.
THEN he put the new plates on my car for me.
Is that all I have to do to get out of a fistful of tickets? Just CRY a little bit? Well, okay…I was pretty respectful too. Called him “Sir” and expressed horror at my own stupidity. But still. What if a MAN cries when he’s pulled over?
I feel like such a weasel…getting out of a ticket by “playing” weepy female. Granted, I AM a weepy female, and it wasn’t just an act I put on for the cop. Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any less shamed, in spite of the fact that I’m very glad I’m not spending this evening in jail.
-L
Too funny.
for living in the hippy economy). After they’d deposited the contents of the trunk along the side of the highway and removed the door panels and rear seat and had found no contraband, they asked me why I was shaking. I just told them that I’d never been pulled over before (true, and entirely unrelated to the baggie of marijuana Bruce had, visible to me, in his shirt pocket - life felony in Texas at the time). So, our story held, and it was true, and I elicited some sympathy from a cop who was likely unsympathetic to my demographic profile at the time. I’m one of the few who’ve received a warning ticket for 110 mph in a 70 zone.
I had a perfect record from the time I got my license until this happened. Oh well . . .