Last week, I criticized Pope Francis and got a passel of new ultra traditionalist followers. This week, I wrote about rape culture and have garnered a ton of new follows from, like, women’s studies academics. Next week: sad surprises all around!
But seriously, hello to all my new readers. I’m very glad you’re here, and I’m grateful for the shares. But if you’re going to stick around, you should know that I am a deeply silly person. And so I have elected to tell the story of how my speeding ticket was dismissed this week. But I’m going to tell it the stupid way.
This past summer, I was driving home from a concert in Worcester with my two oldest kids and their friend. At first we were all
and then it got pretty, pretty late, but even on the way home we were still
but it was kind of a long ride and eventually I was just
But I powered through. We’re halfway home and one kid really has to pee, so we stop at the only gas station on that lonely, lonely strip of road. I pull up, she hops out. Nope, it’s closed. She hops in, away we go.
Then:
Dammit.
Now, I know this town fairly well, and there are a good many honest, upstanding police officers in that area. But this was not one of them. Like this:
except with a badge and a gun. So he decides I was speeding, and also had a headlight out, and also a license plate light out. Real reason he stopped me: I was driving a black SUV around midnight with out-of-state plates, and had popped in and out of a deserted gas station for no apparent reason. He obviously figures:
Which, okay, fine, a reasonable guess. But after we chat and he runs my plates and all, and finds out I have a clean record just like I said I did, and we showed him the ticket stubs from the goony concert we were at, he still comes back with a big ol’ ticket for $105, and lectures me about how it could have been much higher, but he was giving me a break.
Fine. Whatever. I just want to get home. I actually got stopped a second time on the way home but whatever! I’m not on trial here! Not today, anyway.
So we finally made it home, and the next day, I started getting mad. What do I have to pay a stupid fine for? I’m respectable. I pay taxes. I mow my lawn, not like some slob. Plus I didn’t have $105. So I contested the ticket, and got a court date.
Fast forward a month, and now, well, I am on trial. I show up at the court house forty minutes away looking fresh and fine and alert
I go through security and hand over the dangerous arsenal secreted in my purse, including a Schick razor, a pair of tweezers for my goaty goaty face, and a fork
and sit down on the world’s greatest travesty disguised as a bench, to wait my turn. Waiting with me are:
a guy who, in retrospect, should not have knocked the phone out of her hand but when he heard about the prostitution it was the last straw;
a mom and a boy who was both in school and working, your honor, and had simply misunderstood the parameters of losing one’s license;
a man who wasn’t actually masturbating in front of that lady, as she thought, but only had poison ivy all in his pants
No, I am not.
And also a woman who, with her daughter, had lost her job as a waitress in the diner, was exceedingly proud of having wiped her ass with her unemployment check, and then apparently wiled away the lonely hours going back to said diner and giving her former employers the unemployment check treatment, on three different occasions, and also virtually on social media, which led them to take out a restraining order on her because THEY’RE ALL CORRUPT.
And the whole time, she had a bunch of theories about the judicial system which she voices loudly and repeatedly and they can be summed up thusly:
along with a bit of this:
plus a little of this
and just a soupcon of this, for some reason
and everything she said, her daughter said, too.
And the whole time the judge was just all:
Never heard him raise his voice or even sound impatient, even while the insane bullshit was flowing like
He just keeps like
At this point I stop being nervous, because I have heard enough to realize that the worst possible thing that could happen to me that day was that I would have to pay $105; and compared to the prospects of everyone else in that room, that was actually
So what happened was, finally they called my name, I go in, they read the terrible report that Office Dipshit has written up using his left elbow. My speed was estimated, not clocked; the officer didn’t even write his name down, and he certainly didn’t show up.
And, let’s face it, I’m a white lady.
and so the judge is like
And that was that!
At this point, you only have two questions left. One, was I, in fact, speeding? Well …
So there.
And two, did I get my fork back?
Friends, I did.
It’s in my purse as we speak. With my faith in humanity restored
I can once more give a fork. We can all give a fork!
Blog post adjourned.
Can’t wait to hear that you got caught speeding again…since we know you were. FYI, cops don’t “decide” you were, you either were or you weren’t, and you know you were. Love seeing speeders get taken down.
So, you’re hoping I’m still speeding? That’s not very public spirited of you.
From one mom of many to another, next time take all your kids. You’ll get instantly skipped to the front of the line. That’s what happened when my husband contested a speeding ticket in a neighboring county. We decided since we were making the trip, we’d take the kids to the zoo after. When the judge heard we had a passal o’ kids (we were waiting in the highway before they seated everyone in the courtroom, he called us up directly.
Course, you miss the insane stories that way.
Big congratulations to you. For writing a blog post about court and not using a single Judge Judy giphy. And I will say (under oath even) that I am a HUGE fan of Judge Judy.
For all you new readers: yeah, this is the blog. Only often with more Mel Brooks references. Wait’ll you read the one about the various demises of all their pets. I like to read that one out loud. (“Wait’ll” is Texan for “wait until.”)
“Wait’ll” is Texan? Gee, I thought it was just Amurrican. Like the language the Bible is written in. 😉
You made me snort!
Love the gif of the kitten and fork. And of Judge Lebron (I, too, am from Akron).
Your officer sounds like Barney Fife turned stoner. There’s one in every little town.
My three cousins, who are all cops, uniformly told me that if I am respectful and could produce some reasonably sincere tears when I am pulled over for speeding, etc., I would probably escape with nothing more than a stern talking to (bearing in mind I am a law-abiding citizen who colors inside the lines). This only works for women living in Akron, Ohio, although it does not work with certain officers, who are also Fifes turned stoners. They would ticket their own granny. I know this all sounds sexist, but this is how it is. Just saying.
Thanks for cheering my day, and I’m glad all worked out well!
I see your fork and raise you a nail clipper and a bunch of safety pins.
I came to your blog for your excellent post on rape culture but am bookmarking it also for the silly! This was great.
That just got better and better. I was chuckling at the dog in the swing, but when I got to “Let’s face it, I’m a white lady,” I laughed out loud and startled my husband, who is not accustomed to noises from me that aren’t growling in the morning.
You really are deeply silly.
Your speeding ticket blog had me poking all over my iPhone. Hilarious and creative to the max. Then things started to get dark and my normal paranoia reared its ugly head. “Wait. What’s this about turning on GIF Viewer in Settings? Only keystrokes recorded?” Screw this. I’m not giving up my online banking password just to see some flipping silly thing. But Simcha, you are an absolute hoot and a thoroughly entertaining, informative, and challenging writer, thinker, and mom. Bravissima!
Penance, penance, penance.
Hahaha, best comment award goes to….
Whooooot! This hit me just right. I am laughing and wheezing and I don’t NEVER do that. Tip jar! Where’s that tip jar? This lady needs TWO forks for her purse!