Yesterday, Dh and I took a rare shopping excursion together. I needed to get supplies for my jello-orange wedges contribution to Supergirl's class Halloween party, and he needed to get a new router. On our 25 minute drive home, I noticed a flashing blue and red light in my rearview mirror, so rudely interrupting our conversation. I said, "Whoa! I think I am being pulled over. Yep! Definitely me he wants...WTF???"
He said, "WHAT? Why is he pulling you over?"
"Dude, I have no idea!" (and I looked down to check and make sure I was wearing underwear, lest this turn into a Britney-incident. I was.)
So, Mr. CHiPs swaggers up to my window and says he pulled me over for speeding.
(?) (!) (?)
"Really? No, I don't think so! Not today!" was my response.
Dh interrupted, saying that I was not speeding, as I was behind those three cars that I had let pass me a mile back.
Mr. Chips shot back, "Yeah, you just caught up with those cars. You were doing 80."
Dh got very agitated here, leaning over me and sputtering at the cop, "You have got to be kidding! This car can't do 80 and allow us to still have a conversation! The muffler is broken - we could never have been doing 80!" I shot him a look and tried my own method of pleading.
"Look, officer, it's not that I don't speed, or that I have never ever sped before, but this time? I really wasn't! This car really doesn't do well at 80 and we were just talking, which is something we couldn't do if we really were going 80! I think that maybe you clocked one of those cars I let pass at 80 and thought it was me, but it's not!"
Here, he cut me off and said that he did not have a radar on us, but he had followed me for over a mile.
"Well then if that is true, you saw me let those cars pass us!" I protested.
Dh looked like he was about to explode, which was kind of comforting to me, since I am usually the one assumed to be (or accused of being) beligerent to cops.
We incredulously reviewed every move I had made while he wrote out the ticket. Mr. Chips then handed me the ticket saying, "I lowered it to 70."
Then I went nuts. "NO! Not 70! I don't accept that either! I was not going 80! I was not going 70! You just lowered it because you had no radar on us and 70 mph is easier for YOU to win in court. NO WAY!"
He refused to change the ticket, holding it out for me to sign.
Since Bubbles was in the back seat making a bit of noise through the copious amounts of snot pouring down his face, it was easy to lean back to the little guy and 'comfort him' as I swiped my bare hand under his nose.
Then I took the pen that Mr Chips offered me, gripping it firmly in my snot covered fingers as I angrily scrawled my signature.
Then I handed him the pen. Right into his bare hand.
I think right about now, he should be feeling his first sign of sniffles. Maybe a sneeze? I bask in the confidence of knowing that by tomorrow he will feel downright miserable.