So tonight at work, I'm reading a brief about a girl being pulled over for doing 118 mph on I-65. I jokingly say to a colleague (one who has heard all about my lead foot): That wasn't ME speeding on I-65. Fast-forward an hour or so and I'm driving home. I'm almost there, just one turn right and one turn left. And all of a sudden, there are the flashing lights. I go through the possible lines I could use and the best I could come up with was: Did you ever have one of those days? He wasn't amused. "License and registration, please." OK. Now I know for certain I am going to get a ticket. As I'm reaching for the glove compartment I realize what I'm going to find is ... nothing. I haven't put all the standard glove compartment crap back in the glove compartment since my car was broken into at the end of July. OK. Now the guy really thinks I'm a delinquent. He tells me he's probably going to write me a warning and I think: Yeah, right. Just WAIT until you see on your fancy police car computer that I've gotten two speeding tickets since moving back to Indiana in February. (Just a side note: Can someone please explain to me the difference between Maryland/D.C./Virginia cops and Indiana cops? I managed to live out there for three whole years without getting a single speeding ticket. Parking tickets, yes, and plenty of them. But I never got nabbed for speeding. I move back to Indiana and I'm a speeding ticket magnet. Can someone also explain to me why the ticket-writing process takes so long? Part of me believes it's because they want to shame you into not speeding again by leaving you sitting on the side of the road, lights flashing behind your car as others fly by thinking, "Sucker.") So after an eternity, the officer returns to my window and grudgingly starts to hand me a warning ticket, but only after pointing out that he now knows what I already knew: two speeding tickets in a matter of a couple of months. Not knowing what to say, I told him I had reformed myself since then. OK. That obviously did not make him happy. He had a look in his eyes that said, "I'm just about to tear up this warning and give you the real deal. And I'm going to keep you here for another half-hour." Instead he said, "Reformed? You reformed yourself by speeding AGAIN?" Oh no, officer. What I meant to say is that I had reformed until this very night, just a few minutes ago, when you pulled me over. I don't know what happened to me. I must have suddenly lost all of my senses and decided to put all of Carmel at risk by doing 65 in a 55. So shoot me. That's what I told him. Sort of. Or I might have just looked pathetic, sputtered an apology and drove the remaining two blocks to my apartment.
Lesson learned: Do not speed home on Wednesday night. You will get pulled over and will miss the replay of "Project Runway."