Look at this:
I got stopped by the police!
I got a ticket!
A frickin' ticket!
I've been around the house looking for this ticket. I finally found it. It was in my purse. The problem is, I rarely carry my purse. Go figure.
Anyway, I got that ticket in the great state of Alabama during Memorial day weekend.
It was ten o'clock on a pretty Sunday morning. There was a nice breeze blowing. The sunroof was open and I had my Jill Scott playing and I was eating a not-so-good grits, egg and cheese scrambler for breakfast.
It was all quite a smurfy scene, I tell you.
The only problem was that I was doing 68 mph in a 45 mph zone.
"Shame on you!" everybody yells. "Shame on you for going that fast."
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute.
Let's correct that. The 45 mph speed limit was on the freeway. On I-20 east!
Can you say speed trap? On a holiday weekend? On the border of AL and GA?
Wow! I think someone was trying to make quota!
I remember frowning up at the speed limit sign and wondering "Why on earth is the speed limit 45 mph?"
People were flying around me. I got caught going over a hill. I was singing along to my riding music, my Jill Scott, and I saw the flashing blue lights behind me.
"He's not trying to stop me," I said, as I ate a spoonful of the scrambler I bought from Krystles. "No, not me."
I kept going, and he was fast on my tail. I pulled over in between some of the orange and white construction barrels. That in itself just doesn't sound like a safe thing to do. Humph.
He eased up to the side of my car and tapped on my passenger window. He looked all in the car, like I was up to something. *lee mean mugging, trying to look hard*
"Where you coming from?" he asked.
"From Birmingham. I went to check on my Mama. She just had surgery."
Okay. This was a lie. Sort of.
Play Mama just had some surgery back in April. And I went to hang out and check on her. I asked her how she was doing. She said she felt alright. And she really was doing alright. I could tell this from my stretched out position on the couch, you see. The chick was darting around, moving to and fro, very fast. So I guess she was okay.
So technically it was the truth. Overall, I thought that it would get me some sympathy.
But I was driving AWAY from Alabama and to Atlanta.
So I wasn't suppose to be in a rush. Might have made more sense if I was rolling from ATL to Birmingham.
The officer just cocked his head to the side and looked at me.
I wanted to ask him how he caught me. Turns out he has a rearview mounted camera.
That's different. Never heard of it. Gotta remember that one!!
Anyway, he goes on questioning me. I ended up saying I was trying to pass somebody. He was done talking to me then. He went to his car and checked out my information.
And he gave me a ticket! *tears*
"Doggonit, Lucy! You were going too fast!" I said as I slapped my steering wheel. "Doggonit Lucy!!
Pam the Protege has never gotten a ticket. Me and Pam been hanging for 12 years. Now here come Lucy the Lexus, only 4 months with me, coming with this foolishness. Humph.
I slowed down after that. I set my cruise control at around 3 mph above the speed limit.
Even though jokers were passing me left and right. UGH.
Now, I like to follow people when I drive long distance. I focus on someone going fast, keep them way out in front of me. And it helps if someone is following me. I prefer a whole line of cars going fast.
ALL those people got pulled over too. I saw them further down the road... pulled over. HA!
So I guess that strategy doesn't work too well. Sigh.
I asked the officer how much the ticket would be. I was thinking around $500, like in the city of ATL. He said it wouldn't be that much. And he kept talking. *ladylee not paying any more attention to him*
I checked the cost of the speeding ticket: $161.00.
Anyway, this reminds me of a FUNNY story I wanted to post. The speeding ticket here was my second speeding ticket.
The first ticket was 12 years ago.
Make sure you go to the bathroom, because the story of how it went down is so funny that it might make you pee on yourself.
(Yeah, I'm talking to Dee in San Diego and Lisa B. You chickens like funny stuff. And when yall get to laughing too hard, well...).
That story will be dedicated to That Southern Black Gal... because I think she will appreciate it!
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