Nice Guy in the Fast Lane
It should not be at all surprising, in a world where "men of God" are basically allowed to corrupt the youth of their congregation and a one hundred foot tsunami traveling upward of 150 MPH kills over one hundred thousand people without so much as a warning, that bad things do, in fact, happen to good people. Here, I am speaking of myself. Now, I am the first to admit that I am not the best of people, never mind generally "good". But I am not bad, and I was trying to be a good person. That's the point.
I spent the day in Providence with Brad, Bradford, Aimee, Kate, Allie, and Robbie. We got a bite to eat, walked around Thayer, and even filmed a bit of a movie that the ever-so-ambitious boys are hoping to soon mount. We left the apartment around 10:45, as Aimee has to get up for work at 6:30 and then drive down to West Kingstown (a feat she has performed daily since May). We headed home via Route 146. As we passed the Rustic Drive-In (a place that holds so many memories for so many of us, young and old), Aimee reached into her pocket for her cigarettes and instead found Brad's car/house-keys. I did not hesitate to pull a U-ee (in the appropriate place, of course), as I knew that considering Brad is my friend, he'd do the same for me. Usually, I'd be pissed and only turn around out of a feeling of obligation. But no. I was being nice.
As I commenced down 146 South, I passed a state trooper. Everyone gets nervous when they pass cops on the road, never mind a state trooper. He makes the others look like small-town jokes. He didn't pull out, so I, naturally, thought I was in the clear. And, what do you know?! He pulls me over a mile down the road, informing me that I was going 80 in a 55. He took my license and registration to his car. Aimee and I sat there, dumbfounded. Of course this would happen now. Of course. Murphy's Law proved positive once again, and the wrong thing happened at the wrong time. He let me off with 10 over, and gave me a $75 fine. Granted, it could've been worse. Much worse, in fact. But the point is is that my parents told me I'd be off the insurance if I got another speeding ticket. (This is only my second, but I do have a few accidents under my belt, already.)
I don't know how the 'rents will take this. Hopefully they'll sympathize with my plight, as I was doing what any friend would do---a favor---only I was speeding, I'm not going to lie. But I will have to lie to them. At least about the 80. They don't need to know that. They most likely won't take me off of their insurance, but I will have to sit down for the requisite lecture about driving safely and not fuckin around on the road. Ugh. So aggravated.
I'm sick of driving. I'm sick of a lot of people. I'm sick of cops.
Hopefully my principal of Karma will hold true with this, and with everything else in my life.
I spent the day in Providence with Brad, Bradford, Aimee, Kate, Allie, and Robbie. We got a bite to eat, walked around Thayer, and even filmed a bit of a movie that the ever-so-ambitious boys are hoping to soon mount. We left the apartment around 10:45, as Aimee has to get up for work at 6:30 and then drive down to West Kingstown (a feat she has performed daily since May). We headed home via Route 146. As we passed the Rustic Drive-In (a place that holds so many memories for so many of us, young and old), Aimee reached into her pocket for her cigarettes and instead found Brad's car/house-keys. I did not hesitate to pull a U-ee (in the appropriate place, of course), as I knew that considering Brad is my friend, he'd do the same for me. Usually, I'd be pissed and only turn around out of a feeling of obligation. But no. I was being nice.
As I commenced down 146 South, I passed a state trooper. Everyone gets nervous when they pass cops on the road, never mind a state trooper. He makes the others look like small-town jokes. He didn't pull out, so I, naturally, thought I was in the clear. And, what do you know?! He pulls me over a mile down the road, informing me that I was going 80 in a 55. He took my license and registration to his car. Aimee and I sat there, dumbfounded. Of course this would happen now. Of course. Murphy's Law proved positive once again, and the wrong thing happened at the wrong time. He let me off with 10 over, and gave me a $75 fine. Granted, it could've been worse. Much worse, in fact. But the point is is that my parents told me I'd be off the insurance if I got another speeding ticket. (This is only my second, but I do have a few accidents under my belt, already.)
I don't know how the 'rents will take this. Hopefully they'll sympathize with my plight, as I was doing what any friend would do---a favor---only I was speeding, I'm not going to lie. But I will have to lie to them. At least about the 80. They don't need to know that. They most likely won't take me off of their insurance, but I will have to sit down for the requisite lecture about driving safely and not fuckin around on the road. Ugh. So aggravated.
I'm sick of driving. I'm sick of a lot of people. I'm sick of cops.
Hopefully my principal of Karma will hold true with this, and with everything else in my life.