steal my sunshine

You know how it is – you’re driving along, talking on your phone, griping about work reviewing your day with your friend.  You’re headed to another friend’s house.  You might be running just a tad late.  You’ve already driven up and down this same street three times today, because you live in a small town.  It likes to pretend it’s a city, but it’s not.

When you glance up and see the blue lights in your rearview mirror, you have no idea how long they’ve been following you.  Words that you would not print on your own blog fly quickly through your head.

Welcome to my Tuesday afternoon.  You notice it’s taken me three whole days to get around to writing about it. Because I think I’ve finally unwrapped my fingers from the steering wheel.

Back to Tuesday.  About this time I say into my phone well! I think I’m getting pulled over.  To which my friend says where are you? Presumably so that she can avoid that same route home.  We hang up as the officer swaggers up to my door.  I think ok, I know I wasn’t speeding (too many turns, too many speed bumps, too many stop signs) so I guess this guy spotted my expired tags.  He must have great eyesight. Dang, why haven’t I taken care of those tags yet?  Because…when I went to do it online, I hadn’t assessed yet, but now I have.  Hmm. Surely he’ll let me off with a warning once I explain…I probably know him, even.

Yes, my inner monologue is quite verbose.

He’s at my window now.  Speaking.  I have 2 observations to make at this point:

1. I don’t know this man.  Really?  In this town, the odds are TOTALLY in my favor.  He’s approximately my age, even.  Maybe?  I don’t know, he’s going gray.  It’s hard to tell.  Dang.  He doesn’t even look REMOTELY familiar.
2. He’s talking to me in THAT VOICE.  You know the one – do they teach it in cop school?  The you-must-be-the-dumbest-human-being-I’ve-ever-encountered voice.  His tone is bouncing off my skull so hard that it takes me a minute to realize that he is telling me that I rolled through two stop signs.

Let’s talk about what this means:  he didn’t pull me over for my tags.  Yep, that’s a little bit of bad news.  Because of course, the tags will be noted.  And, of course, I did roll through the stop signs.  If I’m going to be honest, I probably have rolled through those stop signs several hundred times.  There are two, not 50 feet apart.  Which I find a little ridiculous, so I tend to treat them more like pauses.  Doesn’t everyone?

Cop I Definitely Don’t Know asks for my license, registration, insurance.  I sigh heavily and reach into my purse for my wallet…my wallet…where’s my wallet? In a flash, my brain (which can’t remember where my phone or keys are at any given time) shows me a little mental Polaroid of my wallet, sitting on my desk at work, where I left it about an hour ago.  Thanks for the help, brain.  I could have used that reminder BEFORE I LEFT WORK.

I reach for the registration and insurance, and thankfully, they are both where they are supposed to be.  I hand them to Mystery Cop, and begin to explain about my license, attempting to sound like a normal human being in the process.  Our conversation deteriorates from there:

COP:  What’s your name, ma’am?

ME:  What?

COP:  Your name.  Since you can’t show me your license.

ME:  Sarabeth Jones.  And actually, it’s on my desk right over here at THE CHURCH where I work.  It’s not very far to THE CHURCH, if you want to follow me over.

COP: (definitely not falling for the “I work at a church” bit) You do know your tags are expired.

ME:  Um, yes, actually – that’s a funny story, I…

COP:  And your insurance card, here, it expired in March.

ME: (snapping a little) You mean, like TWO WEEKS AGO?  I have insurance, I promise you.

So let’s sum up, shall we?  No tags, no license, no insurance, rolled through 2 stop signs.  It’s not looking good for a warning, folks.  Actually, in retrospect, I got off pretty easy – only ticketed for one pause and roll.  Oh, and a bonus mini-lecture about the very real possibilities of getting your car impounded blah blah blah.  Still, nobody likes to get stopped.  The next day, a co-worker said to me um – did I see you getting a ticket yesterday?

Told you.  Small town.

But you know, things do always seem to swing back the other way. The next day, while I was waiting for my kiddos to come out of school, my phone rang.  On the other end, screaming with excitement, was a friend.  OhmygoshdidyouknowyouwonyouwonIcan’tbelieveityouwon!

She was talking about this.  Which I won! Because of some wonderful, generous artists. A beautiful kindness as unexpected as the miserable failures of the day before.

I have to get down to the police station sometime in the next month to take care of my ticket.  You can bet I’ll be wearing that necklace…