Wolves in Cheap Clothing....

I absolutely hate driving somewhere I am not familiar with…I would rather have an impromptu colonoscopy than have to drive somewhere I am not familiar with. I especially hate it when I have to do it alone or with children. I do not feel like I should put anyone under the age of 21 in jeopardy of seeing my full blown fury or complete collapse of confidence should I either A) get pulled over or B) get in an accident.

Yesterday I had to take my niece to find a prom dress. This is something I told her I would do for her, citing the fact that I told her that she should go to every dance and every assembly and every party and every event no matter how small to enjoy her senior year of high school. I find that an important thing, since it will never come again.
Her father, my brother in law is a certifiable jerk. I have a lot of patience with him, but it has been tested time and time again by the fact that his parents refuse to discuss with him his Asperger’s, which I am almost sure he has and is undiagnosed. They continue to hold out for the idea that he can receive disability for the stroke he had due to his uncontrolled diabetes. Unfortunately it seems that they feel less ashamed of the facts that he is out of control with his diabetes and unable to work, and has hardly ever been able to hold a job (because his uncontrolled mouth, and uncontrolled anger) and would rather live with that than have him diagnosed with something as clean as Asperger’s.
I wish I could have some pity, but really, I’m not ready to sit with him through the diagnosis process, and really it is time for them to belly up to the bar, so to speak.

But I digress.
My niece and I decided to go prom shopping yesterday afternoon. About one o’clock.
We loaded Booga and my niece in the car and I took the path I normally take to get into town. I have been driving this road for oh, 22 years. So I figured I knew it pretty well.
My niece has been raised by wolves and I have to constantly remind her of protocol with nearly every social thing. So I had to tell her that we will, “Yes, be buying shoes, what’s wrong with you? You can’t wear the same shoes with every dress? What are you going to do with your hair? I can’t be there, I have an anniversary party to attend and you are on your own….Do you have hose? Do you have hairspray? Are you driving your brother’s car? You’re picking this boy up? His tux vest is maroon? Well, that’s not a color I’dove gone with….”

In this same instance, that I am quizzing my niece on all her accessories for prom, I’m failing to notice the cop on the hill. Mostly because I have driven this road forever and have been at the same speed limit since I started living here. By the time we got to the top of the hill he had turned around in a rather sloppy “Y” turn, and turned on his lights.
And of course I pulled over. I’m not a fugitive from justice. I don’t get speeding tickets-at least generally. I’m the one people are honking at or passing on the highway because I’m not going fast enough. Of course, then again, I was always the one driving the Buick LaSabre before….
Now I’m driving a sports car.
So he comes up to the window and asked me for my license and insurance and my registration and so forth and asks me if I know how fast I was going?  Apparently 30 in a 25…Then he asked me how my driving record was? And I told him perfect. And it is. With the exception of one time in 1995 when I was driving in my home town and I was caught speeding through a speed trap there. My mother was not happy at the police that day.
My niece was nervously giggling.
I sat in the car and waited. The long you wait the more assured you are of getting a ticket.
And I figured that was going to be my fate, because it was taking an ungodly long time to call this into the station. So there I sat with Booga and my niece laughing nervously. I knew she was laughing nervously, nothing to be done about that, everyone has their own way to handle stress, apparently that is hers and then Booga ask, “Are they gonna arrest me?”
“No Booga.”
I think aside from the cop at the high school, Booga has never really been around an officer in an official capacity. Police have come to our door for things before but he’s either not been there, too small to remember, or been sleeping. And of course, I thought he was going to say something that he pulled out of his repertoire of movies, so he could express himself. But aside from wondering about that, he was quiet. Unlike my niece, who was still giggling.
I had a friend who was raised for a short time in South America and was terrified of the police because of it. One time she got stopped and it was all I could do to get her so she wouldn’t bolt. She was so scared and upset; I actually had to tell her, “They’re not going to kill us.” And I was oddly the calm one. Weird.
I’m not crazy about seeing the police come up my driveway to ask questions about the neighbors or having to call them because some neighborhood kid decided to spray paint our swing set. But I’m not terrified of them. Do they make me nervous, well, when I’m in a car, in the driver’s seat approaching a ticket, yeah, I’d be stupid to say no?
I have a cousin who is a cop and a nephew who is cop; I have other people in my family in law enforcement. These guys don’t want to take you in anymore than you want to go in. They would rather this be as routine as ever. They don’t want to hassle you anymore than you want to be hassled.
My niece couldn’t stop giggling. My husband would later get angry about it and tell me it was totally disrespectful because here I was trying to do something nice for her…But there again, “raised by wolves.”
I didn’t want to get after her about it because it was something her dad would do. I didn’t want to say to her, “Keep giggling, this is going to come out the money I would have spent on your dress….” She’s had enough people putting her down and hurting her feelings in her life time. So I said to her, “Laugh now, someday this will happen to you.” Because it will, it’s inevitable. I don’t care who you are, you will someday get pulled over by the police for something. When you’re pretty it’s because you’re pretty. When you’re in a ratty car it’s because they are sure something is wrong with it or you are more likely to not have insurance….And when you’re in a sports car it’s more likely you’ve been speeding….They see a sports car and it’s just a cop magnet.
He gave me a ticket. Of course he gave me a ticket. I’m a middle-aged woman driving a sports car. I’m not 22 anymore. I was stirred but not overly shaken. I knew I had to keep my calm for my niece’s sake. I couldn’t allow this to ruin her experience of prom shopping. I just went about my business-move along.
Luckily, we got her dress for fewer than 200.00 because she picked one on sale. With shoes and bling it was a little over 100.00 and with lunch it came to a little under 200.00 and I told her that I had never gotten out of prom shopping that cheaply. Of course the ticket is going to cost me about 100.00 so, it’s about how much I figured for prom. Kind of stinks. I mean, it really does push one to say, “No good deed goes unpunished.” However, I maintain this is just another star in my crown in heaven. Maybe someday she’ll repay the favor to someone else in her life. Or maybe I will just be a footnote in her life as the aunt that took her to get homecoming and prom dresses. I’d be okay with that I guess; as long as I’m looked at in a good light.

I’m just going to be more careful when I drive through there. Although I believe I will take another route for a short time. At least I will take another route until I get more confident where the speed limits are again.
Am I happy about it? No.
But I can’t sit and stew about it. That’s not good either.
Just learn and go along with life.
Really, that’s all you can do.