A Brush With The Law
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse. It did!
Driving back having completed my umpteenth errand of the day, I noticed the dreaded flashing lights coming up beside me.
"Can I see your licence and insurance ma'am?"
"Here you are. Er, what's the problem?"
Officer, looking at tatty UK international permit that expires in two weeks:
"This is a 25 mile an hour zone ma'am, sorry Hilary. You were doing 38."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Wish I looked prettier and younger at this point. It's almost obscene fluttering your eyelashes at my age.
"What's this?" Fingering licence as if it were some kind of Roman artifact.
"It's a UK licence."
"It doesn't seem to have your address on it. Where do you live?"
"Just round the corner. I got it before we came here. It's from England."
"You live here?"
"Yes."
"Just a moment."
Officer returns to his car with licence. I sit anxiously wondering if capital punishment covers minor driving offences. Not because it's such a bad crime, but Grumpy will probably kill me when he finds out.
Officer returns.
"Ok, I need to ask you some more questions. Date of birth? Ok. Height?
"Five feet four and a half inches."
"Five feet."
"Eye colour?"
"Green." Now I'm getting confused. Is he going to put me on some dating website or something?
I'm pulled down to earth sharply at the next question.
"Weight?"
Whatt!!??
So that's my punishment. I have to tell him how much I weigh! Oddly enough I don't really have much of a clue. I stopped weighing myself six months ago, always a bad sign.
I gulped. I may constantly lie about my weight to regular people, but this was the law!
"Er, about 170 lbs?" I whispered. I thought he might think I was being flippant if I talked in stones.
He looked down at me benignly.
"Really?" he said. "Let's be kind. I'll write down 160. How's that?"
It was the fastest 10lbs I've ever lost.
He handed me a pink slip.
"Look, I'll let you off with a warning this time," he said. "You don't have to do anything with this. You can throw it away if you want."
"Oh, I'll keep to teach myself a lesson," I said, before limping home at 20 miles an hour, just to be safe.
Driving back having completed my umpteenth errand of the day, I noticed the dreaded flashing lights coming up beside me.
"Can I see your licence and insurance ma'am?"
"Here you are. Er, what's the problem?"
Officer, looking at tatty UK international permit that expires in two weeks:
"This is a 25 mile an hour zone ma'am, sorry Hilary. You were doing 38."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Wish I looked prettier and younger at this point. It's almost obscene fluttering your eyelashes at my age.
"What's this?" Fingering licence as if it were some kind of Roman artifact.
"It's a UK licence."
"It doesn't seem to have your address on it. Where do you live?"
"Just round the corner. I got it before we came here. It's from England."
"You live here?"
"Yes."
"Just a moment."
Officer returns to his car with licence. I sit anxiously wondering if capital punishment covers minor driving offences. Not because it's such a bad crime, but Grumpy will probably kill me when he finds out.
Officer returns.
"Ok, I need to ask you some more questions. Date of birth? Ok. Height?
"Five feet four and a half inches."
"Five feet."
"Eye colour?"
"Green." Now I'm getting confused. Is he going to put me on some dating website or something?
I'm pulled down to earth sharply at the next question.
"Weight?"
Whatt!!??
So that's my punishment. I have to tell him how much I weigh! Oddly enough I don't really have much of a clue. I stopped weighing myself six months ago, always a bad sign.
I gulped. I may constantly lie about my weight to regular people, but this was the law!
"Er, about 170 lbs?" I whispered. I thought he might think I was being flippant if I talked in stones.
He looked down at me benignly.
"Really?" he said. "Let's be kind. I'll write down 160. How's that?"
It was the fastest 10lbs I've ever lost.
He handed me a pink slip.
"Look, I'll let you off with a warning this time," he said. "You don't have to do anything with this. You can throw it away if you want."
"Oh, I'll keep to teach myself a lesson," I said, before limping home at 20 miles an hour, just to be safe.
posted by Hilary at
4:59 AM
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