(no subject)
So there I was, driving my dad's car down 34th street. I wanted to turn right on 22nd avenue so I could go to the bookstore or some such place. I turned into what looked like a turn-only lane.
Of course, there IS no turn-only lane at the intersection of 34th and 22nd. Whoops.
Suddenly I found myself slamming on the brakes just milliseconds before careening up onto the sidewalk. I managed to dislocate myself from the traffic completely; I was in the middle of a bank's driveway. Whoops again. I silently cursed and looked in the rearview mirror to see if I could get back in.
Right behind me was none other than a Florida State Trooper. Not two cars behind me, not in the next lane over, but RIGHT THERE. TWO OR THREE MERE FEET AWAY. Oh my god, I thought to myself. HE'S NOT GOING TO STOP ME. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! IT WAS A NATURAL MISTAKE. OH MY GOD. The cars started moving again, and he let me go in front of him. Nervously, I edged the car back into the line of traffic and turned right on 22nd. I stared intently at the rearview mirror, hoping the cop would keep going straight on 34th. But no. Seconds later, there he was again.
Lights flashing. OH GOD. Where do I pull over? OH MY GOD I DON'T HAVE MY DRIVER'S LICENSE. IT'S ALL OVER NOW. What do I DO?! Can I just speed away? NO, IDIOT! PULL OVER! OH GOD! WHERE?! WHERE?!?!?
Finally I turned into a little sidestreet. As expected, he followed behind me and stopped when I did. Shamefully, I rolled down my window. He took his sweet time sauntering up to my car. He said, in a ridiculously southern twang, HELLO, MA'AM! KNOW WHY I STOPPED YA?
Me: Yes.
Him: Well, you were goin' so fast you woulda gone up on the sidewalk! Now are you sure you know your way around here?
Me: Uh, yes, sort of. (Bollocks shite. I know this area like the back of my hand. But I wanted to play the MIGHT-BE-A-TOURIST card; that way, he might have clemency.)
Him: Good. I was gonna give ya some direction... I don't wantcha to get in an accident now, ya hear?
Me: Yes. I'm sorry. I won't...
Him: Now HAVE A GOOD DAY!
Me: *sigh* Thank you.
HAHAH NO TICKET. That was close. But I would have been screwed if he'd said, CAN I SEE YOUR LICENSE AND REGISTRATION?! I don't even know what/where the registration IS. My license is buried in my wallet somewhere, and of course, I chose not to bring it with me on the day the cop pulls me over. Yaah.
Of course, there IS no turn-only lane at the intersection of 34th and 22nd. Whoops.
Suddenly I found myself slamming on the brakes just milliseconds before careening up onto the sidewalk. I managed to dislocate myself from the traffic completely; I was in the middle of a bank's driveway. Whoops again. I silently cursed and looked in the rearview mirror to see if I could get back in.
Right behind me was none other than a Florida State Trooper. Not two cars behind me, not in the next lane over, but RIGHT THERE. TWO OR THREE MERE FEET AWAY. Oh my god, I thought to myself. HE'S NOT GOING TO STOP ME. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! IT WAS A NATURAL MISTAKE. OH MY GOD. The cars started moving again, and he let me go in front of him. Nervously, I edged the car back into the line of traffic and turned right on 22nd. I stared intently at the rearview mirror, hoping the cop would keep going straight on 34th. But no. Seconds later, there he was again.
Lights flashing. OH GOD. Where do I pull over? OH MY GOD I DON'T HAVE MY DRIVER'S LICENSE. IT'S ALL OVER NOW. What do I DO?! Can I just speed away? NO, IDIOT! PULL OVER! OH GOD! WHERE?! WHERE?!?!?
Finally I turned into a little sidestreet. As expected, he followed behind me and stopped when I did. Shamefully, I rolled down my window. He took his sweet time sauntering up to my car. He said, in a ridiculously southern twang, HELLO, MA'AM! KNOW WHY I STOPPED YA?
Me: Yes.
Him: Well, you were goin' so fast you woulda gone up on the sidewalk! Now are you sure you know your way around here?
Me: Uh, yes, sort of. (Bollocks shite. I know this area like the back of my hand. But I wanted to play the MIGHT-BE-A-TOURIST card; that way, he might have clemency.)
Him: Good. I was gonna give ya some direction... I don't wantcha to get in an accident now, ya hear?
Me: Yes. I'm sorry. I won't...
Him: Now HAVE A GOOD DAY!
Me: *sigh* Thank you.
HAHAH NO TICKET. That was close. But I would have been screwed if he'd said, CAN I SEE YOUR LICENSE AND REGISTRATION?! I don't even know what/where the registration IS. My license is buried in my wallet somewhere, and of course, I chose not to bring it with me on the day the cop pulls me over. Yaah.