Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Close Encounter

So my lunch was going well. Grabbed some chicken tenders and the remaining presents I needed. I was driving back to work when I ended up in a turning lane that I didn't need to be in. At the same moment a police car let me back into traffic, I realized that I did not have my seat belt on. So I'm sitting stiffly against my seat, going 'crapcrapcrapcrapcrap'. But I've NEVER been pulled over before, so I was just praying that God would forgive both my bad driving and seat beltlessness and let my clean record continue. But then he followed me into the next lane, onto the next road, and on my following turn. I was praying that it was a coincidence, praying with all my might, and then....
Blue lights.
Me, the girl with the out of date license and no seat belt on - oh. No. No, no, no, no.
So he gets out and mentions the turning lane incident, and then says - "but I pulled you over because your registration has expired. Can I see your license and registration?"
Me - meekly and shaking - "Yes, sir."
I hand him my license and take out the massive amount of car info from the glove compartment, hoping to find something clearly marked registration because I haven't the slightest idea what I'm looking for.
He stands there patiently and finally I say, "I'm so sorry to be such a girl. Can you tell me what it looks like?"
"It's a blue card."
"Oh." There is no blue card to be found and I just start to panic, saying all those wifely "I'm sorry, my husband usually takes care of this stuff' excuses.
"Is this your car, miss?" (As he looks into the backseat and I'm thinking, why didn't I clean out the backseat?)
"Yes, sir."
"When did you get the car?"
"Last October."
He goes to check my license, as it's so painfully obvious that I don't have that registration card.
And I'm thinking, I am in deep, mirelike, maggot infested crap. Because my maiden name is still on that card, along with my parent's address...and I've been married for three years, the car's registered as my new name, and I've had a million different addresses since I moved out. And WHERE IS THAT STUPID BLUE CARD?????
He comes back and I'm waiting for my fate, about to throw up on my steering wheel.
"Okay," he says, "You need to get your husband or whoever takes care of this to do it. Alright?" He uses this voice that clearly communicates that he is second guessing his decision to not give me twenty tickets.
Oh, the angels sing Alleluia!
"Yes, sir. We'll take care of it right away. Thank you."
He nods and goes back to his car and I am very close to hyperventilating.
He follows me almost back to work, and I'm so nervous the entire time. But I managed to keep the car on the road and escaped jail.
This is my Christmas miracle. Thank you, nice officer and nice God.

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