My Harrowing Experience
Ah, my darling husband. How I love and adore him...despite the fact that he seems to enjoy bringing me to the brink of a nervous breakdown.
This past Wednesday night I was up north for dance class; on the ride home I was pulled over by a cop. No problem, I think, because I wasn't speeding and I have a PBA card. Little did I know my registration was not renewed last October (darling Peter takes care of the bills). The cop decides he wants to impound my car, and he doesn't care that my father-in-law is a retired police sargent. "Well, I called it in already," he tells me. Alrighty then. I have to call my husband to come get me. Only he's not answering the phone, and I know he's not home because he went to watch "Lost" at a friend's house. I call my sister, and she's not answering. WTF am I to do now? I'm crying my eyes out because I feel like a criminal (and PMSing like a fiend) and I have to get into the back of the cop car for a ride to the station. I'm not arrested or anything, but still. Those back seats in cop cars are not made for people. They're cramped and made to be uncomfortable to punish the wicked. By the by, when I asked the cop why he pulled me over in the first place he said my "muffler was loud." *cough cough BULLSHIT cough*
In the back seat of the car I manage to get my parents on the line and sobbingly tell them to come pick me up at the station. At this point it's roughly 11:15 at night, and I hate bothering them because they both have to get up early for work (my mom starting a new job even that next morning!) I get my brother on the line and ask him to please come get me from mom & dad's house and drive me home because PETER IS STILL NOT ANSWERING THE PHONE. Mom and Dad were peaches, very understanding, and my bro Kyle totally came to my rescue, driving from Fairlawn to Clifton and then to New Providence. By the time we left my mom's house in Clifton it was midnight and I finally got a call from Peter. My teeth grinding, I told him all that happened to me, and that I'd be home in a few minutes.
And then we hit traffic at 12:30 at night on Route 78, and it took us an extra 30 minutes to go 3 miles.
All that time, I had to go so bad that I thought my bladder was going to explode. I have a hateful bladder who treats me like a red-headed stepchild in the best of times. This was like going through Abu Ghraib.
We get to my house around midnight and I make a mad dash to the bathroom. Peter hides. I don't kill him. I hand him his blanket and send him to the living room couch and try to relax and get to sleep. I make a mental note to carry my damn Ativan in my purse.
Now we have to figure out what to do the next morning. Peter has a mud show gig in Long Island, I have to go to work. He was going to drive to our friend's house and pick him up, but now he can't because I at least need a car to get to the DMV and the police station. Luckily, his friend says he will drive to our house at 5 a.m. and take Peter to L.I. (which then inconveniences his wife) and at least I can work a half a day and then get everything done.
I get to work 30 min. late the next morning because of awful traffic and inform them I have to leave early. Sigh. I get to the DMV around 1:30, fill my renewal out, wait on line and am seen roughly 30 mins. later. I think I'm ok, because the DMV is only about 15 mins. from the police station, and that's only 5 minutes from the impound lot. The impound lot closes at 5. I'm good.
Only I'm not, because I'm told since my car is a lease, my leasing agent has to fax a "power of attorney" letter to the DMV so the registration can be renewed. I get out of line, I call, and I'm told they'll put an "urgent" message on it, which will hopefully get there in an hour. I try to restrain myself as I ask politely if they can put an "urgent urgent URGENT" message on it. Then I go outside into the fresh air to rant to my friend Cat who was inconvenienced by her husband having to pick up my husband.
Luckily, the letter only took 45 minutes and I'm out by 3, get to the police station, get my release form, and then my husband who was thankfully dropped off by Rob at my mom's house, and we're at the impound lot by 4 p.m. Whew! Made it! Then I just had to drive my loud muffler (i.e. NO MOTHERFUCKING SOUND FROM IT) home, with "impound" stenciled in grease pencil right on the driver's side windshield. I probably don't need to mention how the $45 renewal, the $54 ticket and the $65 impound fee is money that we don't have lying around in this day and age and now certain bills do not get paid. Nor the fact that I've had a weird cycle and was hoping beyond hope I was pregnant but with the stress this caused, even if I was, I'm sure my body's not going to keep hold of anything. Although we all know the chances of me ever conceiving are negative 50007097240750297830397308502938452 to 1.
My life is so interesting...