So This Police Officer Walks Up to My Minivan...

It was 3:41 p.m. on a particularly chilly Sunday in November. I was en route to Abby's second soccer game of the afternoon having just said goodbye to my parents who were returning home after a week without power. I was happy that life could return to normal for them, though part of me wished they could stay so I wouldn't be alone with my anxiety. Rob's work trip to Las Vegas came at an inopportune time. I really needed him here to help me mentally and emotionally prepare for the big day that loomed ahead. My first day at the new job.

Perhaps it was this anxiety that caused my error in judgement. More likely it was the result of 20+ years of careless driving. I failed to come to a complete stop at a stop sign on my way to the game.

I saw the cop after I passed through it. I had slowed down significantly. I could see there was no one coming from the other direction. Still, something told me he was watching for someone like me. Within moments he was behind me on Avondale Road with its infuriating 25 mile speed limit. I could barely go that slowly. I was holding pretty steady at 30 and he was keeping up so I figured he was okay with my speed. Turns out he was keeping up so he could more clearly read my license plate and pull me over. Which he did.

It had been a decade or more since I was last pulled over by the flashing lights. The ill feeling was nevertheless familiar. Made slightly worse by the realization that I hadn't brought my purse. Or my driver's license. The officer sat there behind me for what felt like hours and when he finally ambled up to the car he took the time to look into my two rows of back seats. Thank goodness I wasn't carrying my machine gun or my stash of narcotics on this particular Sunday. As he approached the window I fumbled in finding my unexpired registration card and lamely explained my missing license. He finally told me the reason for our little get-together: Neighbors on Martroy Lane had been complaining about drivers inadequately stopping at their corner. I should have mentioned how neighbors on my circle have been complaining about the drug dealer residing on our street.

The officer returned to his car and I sat there in the minivan of shame, certain everyone who passed knew it was me, the one with the "I Believe" window sticker. I started to cry, albeit too late in the process to do any good. He remained in his car for another seemingly hour-long stint before returning to very graciously present me with my traffic citation. He thoughtfully pointed out that I could pay the fine within 10 days or plead not guilty and go to court. Surely my word would trump his with the judge. And could you just see me telling my new employer I needed the afternoon off to deal with a small legal matter? On the citation he did indicate green as my car color instead of the correct silver, perhaps I had something to work with there? 

 

He left with me with a congenial "Have a nice day, Ma'am." I'm not sure which pissed me off more, the "Have a nice day" crap, or being referred to as "Ma'am." Clearly my youthful appearance escaped his notice. Maybe driving a mini-van automatically makes you a ma'am. 

The very best part of this experience, besides gathering delightful blog material, was the "bill" itself. I really appreciated how they break it out for you:

FINE: 25.00 (Not bad. Breath a sigh of relief)
E.M.S.: 10.00 (Well, let's just consider it a donation to our emergency personnel)
MCARE: 30.00 (WTF is the "Medical Care Availability and Reduction of Error Fund?")
COSTS:  36.00 (The above aren't "costs?" They're certainly costing me. I may have to protest. What other service provider gets away with a vague "costs" line on their invoice?)
J.C.P./A.T.J.: 10.00 (Judicial Computer Project/Access to Justice. Whatever.)

TOTAL DUE: 111.00

Glad I've been saving money by buying my new work clothes on eBay.

While it absolutely sucks getting a $111 ticket, I had it coming. Nearly a decade ago, while together on a business trip, my friend and former coworker Gale recommended I consider coming to a complete stop at stop signs. It took this long for my failure to heed her good advice to catch up with me.

Driving home from Abby's game afterward, I came to a complete stop at each sign. It was a different feeling, but one I'll try to get used to. Or perhaps I'll just avoid Martroy Lane and Avondale...

Just One of Those Days

My first moment of peace all day. Our summer fun facilitator's (SFF) last hurrah was Tuesday and I've been home alone going stark raving mad with my children since then. Today was "one of those days." One of those days that only parents of pre-driving age children can relate to. One of those days that makes me think I need a summer-fall-winter-spring facilitator to manage my children and their schedules. I believe rich people call them nannies.

I mentioned in my introduction to Summer and Shane (our 2012 SFFs) that one thing I particularly appreciate about my summer help is the errand running and children shuttling. I despise both of those things. Basically anything that requires me to get into the car for something other than work, the movies, or dinner out is a major imposition. Today I had the pleasure of adding one other thing I detest into the errand running/kid shuttling mix: WAITING. I don't wait well and today included waiting to the extreme.

The plan for my morning was simple enough. The Silvertone's (the high school group Ian sings with) was performing at our school district convocation in the morning. The director told me to be there by 8:45 a.m. and that it would end by 9:30. Because I'm always punctual, particularly when Abby's nagging me, we were there right on time. We entered the auditorium and the high school's drumline was already on stage. The rest of the 300+ kids in the band filed in. It was a sight to behold and the sounds were as spectacular as one has grown to expect from one of the greatest high school bands in the state. We were off to an excellent start.

After the band performed, the Silvertones took the stage where they performed a moving rendition of the nationl anthem, followed by "Happy Birthday" for one of the teachers in the audience. Good stuff.

And then they left the stage. And Abby and I stood along the back wall of the auditorium to wait for them to reappear. And we stood. And we stood. And we stood some more. Around 10:00 a.m., more than an hour later for those of you who don't want to do the math, the Silvertones came back and performed "What a Wonderful World." And then they sat down on the stage, suggesting a short break before their next song. And Abby and I stood and waited. And we stood. And we stood. And we stood some more. Around 10:45 a.m. the Silvertones rose and perfomed Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." It was almost, but not quite, worth the wait.

We asked Ian if he could leave with us so I wouldn't have to come back and pick him up. He first shot me dagger looks for speaking to him while in the company of his fellow performers, then he said "no."  He couldn't leave. Abby and I headed home. We walked in the front door and as I set down my keys my phone rang. You guessed it. Ian was ready to be picked up.

An hour later he required a ride to his afternoon babysitting gig.  An hour after that, Abby required a ride to her orthodontist appointment where we sat and waited for an insignificant (compared to our morning) 30 minutes.

An hour later Abby required a ride to soccer. She couldn't go in the carpool because the other driver has a problem with punctuality and Abby won't tolerate being late. I dropped her off at soccer practice at 3:45 p.m., called Ian to see if he was ready to be picked up from babysitting (just a few blocks away). He said no. I went home. I walked in the front door and as I set down my keys my phone rang. You guessed it. Ian was ready to be picked up. I kid you not.

And all this is just a precursor to my life for the next nine months. Ian has 7 a.m. rehearsals daily and plans on joining debate team. Abby will have band rehearsals, plus soccer practices and weekly games. And God knows how many clubs she'll join when she arrives at the middle school next week.

 

I'm up for the challenge though. In fact, apparently I'm so squared away and in control of my life that I'm hosting an exchange student come the second half of the school year. I think a 16-year-old French speaking Canadian who will probably play soccer and/or volleyball and require rides to and from practice is just what I need. Best of all, the Rotary Club tells me I also have to feed her while she's living with us. Good times are a comin!

I know some of you crazy parents with more than two kids have it way worse than me, but it helps just to get it all out. And a bottle of wine helps a good deal also.

Enjoy your Labor Day weekend. The fun is just about to begin!

Communicating on the Road of Life

Recently I angered a fellow driver on the road of life. I'm still not sure what I did wrong, but being the sensitive type (a theme in these blog posts), I felt bad about it. I don't often upset other drivers, but when I do, they seem to take it very seriously. More than 12 years ago (obviously it left an impression), I cut someone off when needing to quickly change lanes to make my exit. He didn't take it well. In fact, he decided to follow me. Closely. All the way home. Since it happened pre-kids and I still had all my brain cells, I had the presence of mind to not stop at my house, but instead drove to the police station. That's when he decided he had something better to do than terrorize a young woman who made a driving faux pas.

That whole ugly scenario could have been avoided if someone would develop my Driver-to-Driver Vehicle Communication System (DDVCS). The DDVCS would  have many uses. The standard model would allow you to flash one of three basic signals (perhaps in the form of a flag that would pop up out of the roof of your car):

• Green: Go ahead and yell at me. I totally screwed up with that bone-headed move. You should feel free to drive past me angrily and shake a fist. (I think the whole flipping the bird thing is a bit extreme).
• Yellow: I'm not sure who's at fault here. Since we both think we were justified in our actions, let's call a truce and go our separate ways peacefully. 
• Red: You are an idiot. I did nothing wrong and you are completely unjustified in yelling at me, shaking your fist, or flipping me off. Knock it off, or this 2nd degree black belt is gonna get out of her car and kick your ass.

The higher end model of the DDVCS would have additional selections:

• For you single folks, see someone you'd like to know better while waiting at the traffic light? Flash him or her the "Hi" sign. If interested, they can flash back (no telling what they might flash -- wink, wink).
• Stuck behind someone fixing their hair, applying makeup, shaving, texting, or looking at something other than the road, use the DDVCS's side flag which is capable of stretching forward one car length to the other driver's side window. You have your choice of messages, including: DRIVE ALREADY!, MOVE IT, WILL YA? and YOU LOOK GREAT, NOW DRIVE!
• Passing a mom yelling at her kids, looking like she's about to lose it? Send her the condolences flag with the message, "BEEN THERE, SISTER. HANG TOUGH." 
• Someone tailgating you? The rear flag might offer a warning that you are about to stop suddenly so  unless they want to get up close and personal real fast, BACK OFF. Or, as seen on bumper stickers, other flag messages might include: "Please don't tailgate. It makes me nervous and then I start farting." Or "Tailgaters have tiny penises."
• For the senior citizen (aged 80+), you would have a flag with extra large print that reads WOULDN'T PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION SAVE YOU GAS MONEY? 

These are just a few of my suggestions for the DDVCS. The deluxe model of the system would allow you to customize your options. What would you include in yours?