Nice Green Papers You Get While Speeding on the Interstate

The Day is December 26, 2005. Some know it as "Boxing Day," but I guess that's not super important. I had a family party, a little after Christmas get-together. Family parties have become one of those obligations that are awkward and usually spent trying to make decent conversation, perhaps a round of Apples to Apples somewhere in there. There's usually a lot of bad food and fake smiles. This party I made a breakthrough. I convinced my parents to let me leave on my own time, not make an entire day out of a lunch party. So my two younger siblings came along in my mom's car (her "baby"). There was a lot of, "Be careful. Obey the speed limit. Don't listen to your music too loudly" before I left.

The three of us hopped in the one car while my parents left at some other time in the other. We got to the party in good time, minus the fifteen minutes trying to figure out the address to my Aunt Anna-Clair's house, and eventually discovering the party was at my Uncle Daniel's. We still beat my parents. Well, games and food were fine, and we actually made a nice exit. So we were headed down the interstate making really good time. I always speed a little, because you have to to keep up with traffic and as sad as it is... who really goes the speed limit? But sometimes you have this notion something bad is going to happen. You're checking your rear mirror every few seconds, making sure there's nothing in front of you, to the side. Well, somehow I got caught up in a song that was playing. Next thing I know, I look up there's a sign for 55mph because of all the blasted interstate construction. Next, right by the sign there's a cop. Sitting there, waiting for unsuspecting, or maybe unexpecting, drivers to speed right by. I glance at the speedometer. Crap, I'm doing 85ish in 65, nearly 55. I slam on my breaks trying to reach a reasonable speed. His lights turn on. "That's not for me is it?" I ask Hillery. "I don't think so." I'm watching my rearview mirror. I'm not sure what he's doing. He follows me. "Crap." I pull to the side, changing lanes as quickly as possible. Sure enough, he follows. Somehow, waiting those seconds for him to get out of his car, hustle to the passenger window, and ask for my licence and registration are nerve wracking enough. He says, "Do you know why I pulled you over? You were going 83 in 65. I saw you slow down when you saw me. So you knew you were speeding." "But I honestly just saw the 55mph sign right before I saw you and slammed on my breaks because I didn't realize I was going that fast." "Ok. Well, I'm gonna go fill out this paper work." He takes his time, maybe 7 minutes of just sitting there complaining to my siblings. Hearing, "This sucks." repeatedly.

He comes back, "I wrote you down for 9 over. That's half of what you were doing. You'll have to go to traffic school, get in contact with the court. But your fee is the lowest you can have for speeding. Drive safe." Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. What do you say to that? Thank you? You have a nice day?" Just hit your steering wheel once he's out of earshot. Turn up the one song on your cd with profanity, still trying to edit the F-bomb, but instead turn it up (really on accident). Drive 55mph, which no one in the entire state of Utah has ever driven while in a construction zone. And think about how terrible your death will be when your parents find out. And how low your bank account will be once they take out the hundreds of dollars they'll pay the cop with who pulled you over.

I'm staring at the green half sheet of paper that says Lehi City Police Department, and announces my first misdemeanor, or the first one I've ever been caught doing. Sometimes life sucks. This is just another example of why.