Wednesday, December 27, 2006

And it's 1, 2, 3 strikes you're...

It was another long night and I, of course, was speeding home. I'm so accustomed to it that I don't think anything of it; it's a perfectly normal procedure when on the freeway (well, driving in general, really). Halfway home I thought, "Maybe I should keep an eye out for any cops." I frequently suggest this to myself while driving, disregard it, and make it home without any incidents - until tonight. I kid not, it was only a handful of minutes after thinking it before I was blinded by the set of lights behind me.

"Sorry, I know was going a bit too fast."
"Excuse me? 'A bit'?"
"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm just in a rush and..."
"License, registration, and proof of insurance please"

Asshole, I thought.

I explained to him my situation: I had just come from work and was rushing home only to head back to handle a family emergency. I prayed he bought into the story, doing my best to make him feel sorry for me by being extremely apologetic and meek. I didn't care if I seemed like a wuss - I had to do my best with whatever it took to get off the hook. This was another procedure I frequently practiced, because, well, it wasn't anything new.

The first time, I told the officer I was already in trouble with my mother and freaking out I was late - hence the speeding. He asked why I was out so late. I told him I lost track of time while studying all night with my best friend for the SATs, which were the next day. In truth, I was just going home from hanging out with my girlfriend at the time. The second time, I explained to the officer that the squealing noise from my car were my belts, not my tires. Each time, I got away scot free. This time, my luck ran out...somewhat.

"Have anything to drink tonight?"
"No sir, absolutely not." I accidently spat while saying this.
I hope he doesn't notice, I hope he doesn't notice.
He looked down at his hand right after the spit flew out with my words.
Dammit, he saw, he saw. I'm done.
He didn't say anything about my geyser for a mouth, and I was even more relieved to discover he was actually a nice guy. He decided to leave it as a minor infraction that can be taken care of by just attending traffic school. He also wrote down that I was going 80mph in a 65mph zone. I was going 115mph.

I really should start being more careful...
...about how well I keep a look out for these guys.