Well, Hello Officer

I seem to have a magnet attached to my car that attracts the police. This has been a problem for some time. Before it was the parking officials in their three-wheeled-death traps; as of late I have upgraded to full-blown officers and have said goodbye to the glorified parking attendants.

When people ride with me they have one question for me:

"Are you serious right now??"

Right now? As opposed to the last 20 miles we just blew through? I boast some of the best back-seat drivers in my car. There is my father, bless is soul, that needs to tell me exactly to date the cost of each ticket violation I just risked getting.

"You know the lowest ticket in Minnesota as of January 28, 2008?? Doooo you??" my Dad shouts at me as he holds on to the dashboard.

"No, but I am sure you are going to tell me..."

"$175.24!"

"Whew, 24 cents?... at least this state doesn't round up" I say under my breath.

"They give tickets for sass mouths too Missy. You betcha you will be sitting in a cell with Big Betty again if you keep running your mouth that way...".

Somehow my hard of hearing-near deaf Dad is never hard of hearing enough to hear my mumble on my breath. I don't get it. Is it some kind of Dad gene I don't know about?

One tragic misunderstanding under the legal name: "vehicular public nuisance" which resulted in me being put with orange jumpsuits and this man will never let it die. Big Betty was pretty friendly actually at least once I agreed to that date at the VFW. We have a few years before we cross that bridge. Actually 7-10 years but I am sure we will reconnect someday.

There is also the passenger that prays a lot.

"Oh sweet Jesus...can you put your mascara on later??"

"Mommmmm....you see this knee? This knee can steer through anything in the 6 o'clock position. Now hold on...."

I have come to the conclusion that the recent all-time-high traffic jams have forced us into multi-tasking. Years of practice has gotten me to a pretty prestigious title according to my insurance company: 2009 Multi-Tasking Driver of the Year.

Now it is illegal to drive without a blue tooth and I praise the person that made this a California law; now I have one more hand free to, eat, wrap a gift and check my emails on my lap top. These people are genius. They have even taken it a step further with taking away the freedom of texting and driving. Even better; I have a Blackberry specializes in emails not texts.

"Ms. Sadawowowowski...you know that it is illegal to text and drive..." the officer is looking down at me through his Poncharella reflective sunglasses.

"Oh no worries Officer... I was just emailing!"

"You can't do that either Miss...."

"Realllllly?" I am dumbfound. Like he just told me that the world was round "Well offffficer..." (cue the tears) "I can't afford a ticket I was just let go from my job...."

"Wellllll...." He starts in slow like this ticket is going to require a payment plan; this is the mother of all tickets, "the first ticket is $20....then it goes up to $50....."

"Really???" I actually start to smile. Only $20??? I think to myself, "Sweet!" I chirp as I continue to finish my email in front of the officer. I even think about telling him that I thought it was $175.24 but I figure I shouldn't give him any ideas.

"YOU CAN'T TEXT IN FRONT OF ME!" the officer is outraged by my blatant disregard of his fancy-pantsy law talk.

"Officer, it is jussssst an email...."

"Ms. Sadawaowwowowoski please step out of the car...."

Dammit.

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The one thing about the men in blue is that they are so full of information you didn't even know.

"Ms. Sadapowwwshi (really? How hard is the last name?) you have no front license plate. It's illegal in the State of California to be without a front license plate..." he drones on.

"Oh yah--that stinking thing? Well the DMV only sent me one. Thanks!" I say as if our meeting is over and I am going to drive away into La-La-Land.

"The DMV only gave you one??" He says in disbelief.

"Uh-huh." I nod looking up at him with big convincing eyes "They sent me one. I called to ask if they could send me another but they just put me on hold. They should really look into some more operators at the DMV or at least some music for the eternal hold situation...that was three years ago and no way am I gonna keep calling...."

Kill them with babble. Works every time.

Apparently not this time. There are now three officers circling my car like hungry vultures. I think they are all related to Big Betty--at least one of them resembles her to a "T"; must be her brother. The officers hover around my back license plate.

"Miss, please step out of the car..."

Crap.

I join the Betty relatives behind the car.

"Miss, you have TWO license stuck together" he yells at me.

I step back, bring two hands straight back and push his shoulders back in disbelief. "Shut the front door!!! I been driving this for years...! Holy Crap!" I yell at him.

I pat him on the back in a kind of way that says: 'thanks man you are the best..' I start to walk back to my car. Wow those boys in blue sure are smart, I think, as I start to get back into my car.

The officer calls out from behind me"Uhhh...Miss we have some paperwork for you here to sign...".

Seriously? Whatever happened to a warning?

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The most amazing part of being pulled over is that they always ask you what you were doing wrong.

'Well officer I totally rolled that stop sign while doing 50 in a 30 zone. Oh and did you catch that I ran that pedestrian crossing about a quarter of a mile back? Poor kids they sure were scared...'. I mean really--who does such a thing?

I instead have perfected the batting eyelashes, leaning-over, dumb-blonde-meets big strong cop-man bit. I would say that it is a 50-50 chance if it works but you bet I won't go down without trying.

"Welllll hellllo officer..." I say with a slight drawl leaning over while thinking how lucky I am with the outfit I chose for this pull over date. There is nothing this officer can do to resist my charm I think to myself.

"You passed me by there on 7th and Robinson and I couldn't tell if you were a man or a woman..." he starts out.

Did he just pull me over to tell me I looked like a man?

"Wow officer," I coo, "I have never heard that one before!" I figure this is his opening line, his foreplay, his dumb-blonde-meets-big-strong-cop fantasy.

The officer had pulled me over in a such a location that there was nowhere else but the sidewalk for him to ride his motorcycle up on the side of my car. It was very nice of him to leave the lights on, in front of the bank, the grocery store, the post office, and in the most highly trafficked pedestrian area in the neighborhood for the entire ordeal.

I nervously look around. I want to shout 'nothing to see here folks! Keep it moving!' but I too have fallen for the rubber necking, slow down, and stare at the poor soul scenario.

He thinks I didn't hear him so he shouts, "I SAID I DIDN'T KNOW IF YOU WERE A MAN OR A WOMAN!"

Apparently I am manly AND hard of hearing. Really Officer? I don't think that the people in the bank heard you. Maybe we should wait until that carry-out boy is done sacking his next order of groceries to take out. Better yet I think I see some school children at the next light sir; they look they are ready to get off that bus to see what is going on.

I stare blankly at him. What does one say to something like this?? I take inventory. Sundress, make-up, boobs...yep all there.

"I am sorry officer. I realllly don't understand"

He looks at me like he is amazed I don't know what he is talking about.

"Your windows! Damn things are so tinted I couldn't tell if you were a MAN OR A WOMAN"

"Seriously, is that necessary?" I say cynically while looking around. I swear I just saw someone take a phone-picture and talk into a recorder. What if this makes the news? Oh Jesus...paranoia sets in.

"Apparently you don't know the danger you are putting yourself into---not to mention the rest of the world..." he drones on.

I figure I am officially done with Officer Billy Bob Joe when he starts telling me a "little elbow grease and a razor blade will do the trick" when I tell him I can't afford a fix-it-ticket. Fortunately I am a buff man in his book. A buff man with a new shiny ticket.

Dammit.

I can say that in my years of running from the law things have definitely gotten stricter in recent days. They have taken away our texting, our talking, and every thing in between. Seems that it is not even easy being a girl (or in this case man), to cleavage-cry-your-way out of a ticket, or to play the poor-me-strong-you role. It doesn't mean that I won't try. For some reason when given the opportunity of getting out of the ticket all feminism is out the window--unfortunately in this case the windows were just too dark.

xoxo

lms