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June 8, 2003

Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Can See

Editor's Note: Some of the dates and times to the following entries have been changed to represent the actual occurence of events. Do not attempt to re-adjust your computer's clock. Do not run around in panicked circles. Everything will be okay.

I should've known that today was going to be the worst part of this weekend.

Since Danielle's busted the computer, our only tie to the outside world (save the TV), no one in our house has able to use the Internet or type any kind of English paper at all. So when Marc complained about having to rewrite a paper for creepy Mr. Rogers, and Danielle whined about making copies of a project for her health class; I suggested that we all take a trip to the Main Library on campus. I figured I could stick them on computers, print out all their crap, and drive home before the afternoon was over. I was supposed to be the perfect, supportive older sister. Everything was going to go my way.

I'll skip past most of the annoyances that happened along the way, but let me tell you--after five hours of being stuck in the library with your younger brother and sister, you're not too worried about being nice anymore. The fact is that Marc's paper ended up taking him three hours to type, and Danielle and I spent most of that time waiting for him to finish. By the time he did finish, we couldn't leave the building because it was raining cats and dogs outside. There was no way I was going to walk all the way to the union parking garge from the library when it was that wet, so we had to stick it out for another hour. I tried to entertain them by showing them the semi-grandeur of the building (it's got eleven floors, so it's the biggest library I've ever been in, anyway), but Danielle wasn't impressed.

"I wanna go home now," was all she'd murmur with her arms crossed. Believe me, the feeling was mutual. A person can only handle the smell of musty 18th century books for so long.

When it finally stopped raining, I took them to get something to eat at Wendy's, and then hopped over to the parking garage to retrive my car. The day hadn't been perfect, but at least it was over. After driving around in circles in the garage for five minutes (Hey, I get lost easily, what can I say?), we finally made it out onto the main roads. I remember doing the speed limit and slowing down near all the crosswalks, like I usually do. I cut through the hospital entrance, and made my way towards the University exit when all of a sudden, I heard this police siren wailing like crazy.

At first, I thought the siren was for someone else. I've never been pulled for for anything... And it wasn't like I was driving drunk, or had a broken tail light. So I just kept on driving, pulling over to the side so that the police car could pass me and catch the idiot who had to have been doing 85 in a 35 MPH zone.

Only the police cruiser didn't pass me by.

It just sat there, wailing louder and louder, the lights flashing in my rear view mirror.

Maybe I'm in this guy's way, I thought. So I pulled my car into gear and started to pull away so that the cruiser could speed past me and catch the person who was probably high tailing it to Mexico with a stash of dope right now.

But then the wailing got even LOUDER and the red, white, and blue lights started spinning like crazy. I could see the University cop waving at me from inside his car, telling me to stop--pronto. I spun around, looking for any other cars on the bridge, but I didn't see anyone else coming near me. And then I had this revelation: He was trying to stop me.

It was like every single episode of "Cops" I'd ever seen had flashed before my eyes.

Was I going to be handcuffed? Was I going to go to jail? Oh God, what if they took away my license? What if I end up in one of those women's prisons, making toilet seats?! I'd end up getting beat up and raped in the bathroom... And they'd change my name to Big April or something dumb like that... And I'd have to eat creamed corn for dinner every night, and--

"Ma'am, did you not know I was trying to stop you?" It was only a really thin University policeman--he didn't look anything like the bulky guys on "Cops." Maybe he'd just been recruited. He pushed his glasses up and snorted at me.

"N-no," I stammered. "I thought it was someone else."

"I see." He said it as if my statement was about to be used against me in a court of law. He was a real hard-ass, this guy was. "Have you ever recived a ticket in the past twelve months?"

Did it look like I'd been assaulted by the police every other weekend? "No."

"I see... Ma'am, may I see your license?" The skinny cop asked me from my driver's window. He looked around carefully in the back seat, as if he was searching for drugs. Drugs! Oh God, was going to be arrested for drug smuggling... I'd get kicked out of school for sure.

I handed him my driver's license, and sat there shaking. I slumped down in my seat, hoping that no one walking back to Lincoln Tower would see my Civic pulled over on the side of the Olentangy.

After reading my license and jotting down some notes on his little police style clipboard, he came back to the car. "Do you have any idea why I've pulled you over, ma'am?"

I didn't have a clue. I wasn't pushing drugs. I hadn't swerved on my way through campus. I didn't knock over any old ladies. And I didn't run any red lights. I could only hope that they'd see my innocence in court. "No."

"Well," he clicked his teeth, "you seemed to run through that stop sign over there past the hopsital. I guess you either didn't see it or you forgot about it, 'cause you didn't make a complete stop."

A STOP SIGN?! I was being pulled over because I rolled over a STOP SIGN?! What kind of crap is this?! What about the drugs? The speeding?! The driving while intoxicated?! Of all the God forsaken things to stop me for, you picked a freaking stop sign?!

"I don't suppose you actually saw that stop sign there, did you?" The weenie cop asked. I could have punched his glasses in right there and then.

"No, I didn't." I don't know if that was a lie or not. I didn't remember the stop sign being there in the first place. And even if it had been there, I don't think it would have made me any less upset.

"I didn't think so," he clicked his teeth again, and tore off a sheet of paper from his clipboard. "This time we're going to give you just a warning citation. It won't show up on your license, but it'll be on the University's record. Next time," he handed the slip to me, "it'll be a ticket. You understand?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Thank you, sir." Idiot. Who pulls people over for stop signs?!

"All right then. You have a great day."

Much too late for that now, isn't it?

Today's Soundtrack: "I Saw the Sign," Ace of Base

Best Part of the Day: Overreacting and seeing my life flash before my eyes because I did not completely stop at a stop sign. Yippee.

Bonus: This little Julius picture reminds me of my catastrophic adventures with the police. Only not in Britain. And not as cute. And not as fun. Okay, the only thing it has in common is the police lady writing a ticket. So sue me.

posted at 6:42 p.m.