(no subject)
The day went to hell the morning I got the speeding ticket.
I was cruising downhill on 7th St. to the Mall when I noticed the police car at the side of the street, a cop on his feet ticketing some unsuspecting soul. I almost said a prayer of relief that it wasn't me when the cop turned around and stood in the middle of the street and made a grand wave to the side.
I was the first car on the road. Shit.
I parked behind his car and watched as he went back to the other car, the cars behind me zooming by. To think I was on my way to church too. Do a good deed and it kicks you right back in the ass.
He certainly took his time about it. He finally came over to my window and said, "Do you know you were doing 49 in a 25 speed limit zone?"
I was surprised. How did he do that while trying to give someone else a ticket? I wasn't a lead foot and had my foot on the brake because the ride was downhill. I wasn't about to question him and piss him off though. I just kept apologizing as he got my license and registration.
He went back to his car, looked like he was doing some writing, some checking, and some other things I wished he wasn't doing.
He went back to the other car, gave something to the driver. Presumably a ticket. I'd be very pissed off if he were waving him on while I was here sweating bullets.
He went back in the middle of the road and started flagging down another fool who thought God rested on Sunday.
He went back to his car, did a few other things while I was wishing he was finding out that it was my first citation and let me go.
Yeah, and I can practically see the halo sitting atop his head.
He came back to my car and said that I was driving recklessly but I had to schedule a hearing before 2 weeks end so I wouldn't have my license revoked and my fines doubled. I took one look at the ticket and thought, there goes my trip to Vegas. I wasn't planning one, but I could get a flight out and back for the amount of the fine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He went on about being there at the hearing and that he would tell them that I was fine with him and perhaps my points would be alleviated. He said that Capitol was the one who made sure he was there so that there would be less speeding.
He actually used that word but did he know what it meant? Did it mean they would be removed or that they would just shave off some?
I asked him, "What does this mean? Can I have the fine reduced?"
He said that I had to pay the fine and that the council was the one that set the fine limit.
"Is there any way this can be lessened or removed?"
"The council has the power to decide that."
He was lying. I could tell by the way his eyes shifted just as he was telling me that last bit of information.
The council, the council, the council. A convenient way to shift my guilt-ridden anger over a third person.
"Do you really believe that?" I looked at him searchingly and remembered Madonna, who had her chauffeur wait for her in a no parking zone during her yoga classes. The tabloids said that he would say to the officer, "You know what I'm here for. Just write the ticket and move on." Or something of the sort.
I'm not Madonna. I can't afford even one $200 "parking fee."
I felt so fucking depressed. It wouldn't shut up the voice in my head. "You got your first speeding ticket in DC? Well, now, you've been formally welcomed."
(Note: This is the opening chapter of my book. Give me your .02 --- is it a strong opening? Thanks.)
I was cruising downhill on 7th St. to the Mall when I noticed the police car at the side of the street, a cop on his feet ticketing some unsuspecting soul. I almost said a prayer of relief that it wasn't me when the cop turned around and stood in the middle of the street and made a grand wave to the side.
I was the first car on the road. Shit.
I parked behind his car and watched as he went back to the other car, the cars behind me zooming by. To think I was on my way to church too. Do a good deed and it kicks you right back in the ass.
He certainly took his time about it. He finally came over to my window and said, "Do you know you were doing 49 in a 25 speed limit zone?"
I was surprised. How did he do that while trying to give someone else a ticket? I wasn't a lead foot and had my foot on the brake because the ride was downhill. I wasn't about to question him and piss him off though. I just kept apologizing as he got my license and registration.
He went back to his car, looked like he was doing some writing, some checking, and some other things I wished he wasn't doing.
He went back to the other car, gave something to the driver. Presumably a ticket. I'd be very pissed off if he were waving him on while I was here sweating bullets.
He went back in the middle of the road and started flagging down another fool who thought God rested on Sunday.
He went back to his car, did a few other things while I was wishing he was finding out that it was my first citation and let me go.
Yeah, and I can practically see the halo sitting atop his head.
He came back to my car and said that I was driving recklessly but I had to schedule a hearing before 2 weeks end so I wouldn't have my license revoked and my fines doubled. I took one look at the ticket and thought, there goes my trip to Vegas. I wasn't planning one, but I could get a flight out and back for the amount of the fine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He went on about being there at the hearing and that he would tell them that I was fine with him and perhaps my points would be alleviated. He said that Capitol was the one who made sure he was there so that there would be less speeding.
He actually used that word but did he know what it meant? Did it mean they would be removed or that they would just shave off some?
I asked him, "What does this mean? Can I have the fine reduced?"
He said that I had to pay the fine and that the council was the one that set the fine limit.
"Is there any way this can be lessened or removed?"
"The council has the power to decide that."
He was lying. I could tell by the way his eyes shifted just as he was telling me that last bit of information.
The council, the council, the council. A convenient way to shift my guilt-ridden anger over a third person.
"Do you really believe that?" I looked at him searchingly and remembered Madonna, who had her chauffeur wait for her in a no parking zone during her yoga classes. The tabloids said that he would say to the officer, "You know what I'm here for. Just write the ticket and move on." Or something of the sort.
I'm not Madonna. I can't afford even one $200 "parking fee."
I felt so fucking depressed. It wouldn't shut up the voice in my head. "You got your first speeding ticket in DC? Well, now, you've been formally welcomed."
(Note: This is the opening chapter of my book. Give me your .02 --- is it a strong opening? Thanks.)