So yesterday after waking up to a voicemail that was left Tuesday afternoon, I was en route to my doctor's office. Before finally leaving the house, I managed to finally find myself in traffic on 340 N. Great. Slow traffic is fun.
Once I made it to 81 it was smooth sailing and I got to my exit in about 15 minutes. Not bad, but since I was doing over 80 mph that's not surprising. Route 340 is always annoyingly backed up, so many of us who need to get to the intersection for the Route 33 usually end up driving a few hundred feet up the shoulder of the road to get to the turnoff, rather than waiting the 4 or 5 light cycles it would normally take us.
Well today my friends, the VA State Troopers outsmarted us. ALL of us. I had the privilege of being one of about 15 people who got stopped on the ol' shoulder detour, and have the $110 ticket to prove it. Imagine my surprise when I pulled out of traffic, drove about 10 feet and a cop steps out of nowhere and just points to the back of the car in front of me; who also happened to have been pulled over.
Now, last time I got pulled over by the Troopers, which was August of last year, I managed to get out of a ticket even though I was going 84 in a 55. "Ms. Warner, this is just a warning... no ticket, ok? Just a warning. But do be careful out there on the roads and watch your speed! You have a great one. Thanks!".... and of course swooning troopers pass out from the ultimate hotness that is me!!!
Right.
Or maybe it was from the heat radiating out from underneath the Acura hood, it's hard to say. But not the case this time.
Oh no, there was no conversation, no questions, no small talk. I wanted to say, "you know, usually before this happens I at least get some dinner out of it. [And by 'this' I mean 'I allow you to drool over me while you take me to a nice restaurant.']" Probably better I didn't though. Come to think of it, I'm glad I didn't ask if his gun was of the "water" variety, either. They didn't seem to be the type of guys with a lot of personality or appreciation for great humor or banter. But seriously, they look like plastic!!! (who carries Glocks anymore, honestly?)
It was all business. They didn't notice my ultra-cute glasses. They didn't mention my new shirt with a bird on it, that is almost as cute as my glasses. Not one of them complimented my style and overall presence. They just pointed to the spot where they wanted me to stop, and I did. I waited in line for over 30 minutes, and they took their time. I was asked [told] to sign the ticket and I did because I knew what they really wanted was my autograph and I like making peoples' days. And then finally, I was released back into the wild that is Route 33 on a typical, overcommuted Wednsday morning.
Really, I think all State Troopers need to have their eyes re-examined. Either that or they need to read up on the current A-Listers. I'm sure this all of this could have been easily smoothed over with one call from my agent! Sheesh!
Once I merged onto 33, it felt good to let the sportscar of my dreams really open up... I figure the best thing to do after getting a ridiculous ticket from a group of State Troopers who had set up a "lawbreaker trap" was to drive in excessive speeds not even a mile from where they were. Too bad the giant black crow that was having a difficult time holding whatever it was it had caught for breakfast flew right into my windshield.
Seriously, and my car was just washed, too.
Last time I hit a bird (interestingly also a black crow), it was decrapitated on my windshield. And no, that isnt' a misspelling. Not only did the bird's head come off, but it crapped everywhere. Which you and I would probably do the same if our heads were cut off; whether or not it was from the windshield of a moving car.
Well, that's all I got for now. Maybe I'll go to court for the ticket and ask for PBJ (that's "Probation Before Judgement," not "peanut butter and jelly," you dummies)... I'm sure they'll have me do something inane like 8 hours of volunteer work at a local firehouse, where the head-perv will make inappropriate commentary and stalk me at work. Because that's what happened last time. Incidentally, I was 17 and had yet to discover my girl fistfighting capabilities. But that's a whole other story.
So let's keep it going for the State Troopers... by doing their jobs, they ruined my day! That's ok though, because the crow I sent them in the mail will probably arrive sometime tomorrow.
