Excuse me, Mr. Officer

        So earlier this week I got a message from my aunt that my cousin was in town with her baby and they were going to dinner.  I was just finishing up my super sweet nannying gig when I got the text.  The adorable fella I nanny loves me no matter how I look.  And, cause he's a baby, things can get messy so I don't typically dress to the nines for him.  I sent a text back explaining that I was just finishing up there and I would need to go home to get ready for dinner out.  I was basically told to hurry, cause true to my deep seeded ways, I don't get ready quickly.  I love to play with make up and hair stuff and I am easily distracted by my phone, the TV, and dancing to my music.  I just run on my own time and do what I want.  Anyway, I rush home and do my best to get ready as quickly as I can.  By the time I am walking out of the door, it's been an hour.  The baby was hungry so I was sent a text to just meet at the restaurant.  It's less than 10 minutes away, but assuming they are already there waiting on me, I needed be there in like 5 minutes.

        In order to cut that time frame down I need to take some shortcuts and take them quickly.  There are a few different ways to get there and I quickly calculate the best route to take.  As soon as I am headed one direction, I regret my decision and feel even more rushed.  So I allow my lead foot to take the lead.  I rush down my street and take a quick turn to the left.  I get to the first stop sign and look both ways, stop briefly, and continue on ahead.  I approach the second stop sign in my quiet neighborhood.  Barely make a complete stop and go right.  It's a short jaunt to another (unnecessary) stop sign where I will turn left.  The stop sign that follows this one is a doozy cause you have to turn left again across a couple lanes of traffic and Iowa drivers are timid and wait til there is no car in sight to attempt the turn.  Then they hesitate til another car passes and they still don't go!  UGH!  It's vicious and it's where my road rage tempts fate.  So as I approach the unnecessary stop, I see to the right headlights coming around the bend.  I immediately think, "Aw hell naw!  You are not getting in front of me, buster!  Not gonna wait for 2 weeks behind you while you play chicken at the stop sign."  Annnnnd that's where things turned...

        I made the executive decision to California Roll through the stop.  For those of you that aren't familiar with the offensive driving technique, here is the Urban Dictionary definition -

A Californian's response to the "Stop" sign.  
The California Roller slows down slightly while rolling through an intersection as an acknowledgement that the local Department of Public Safety has gone to the expense and trouble of placing a traffic control sign or blinking red light there.

I rolled on through turning left and gaining momentum when suddenly the head lights behind me faded into the bright red and blue flashing LEDs that were now behind me.  Fuck.  I try to push my rapidly beating heart from my throat back into place as I move to the side of the road. 

        Now I have a ton of thoughts rapidly running through my head.  First off, I wanna punch myself in the face for the California Roll.  How could I be so stupid?!  But then I am thinking about the fact that, while my license is current, I have my expired one still in my wallet.  And now my insurance is on a app on my phone, did I even download that app?  It's dark outside and my car is old and the windows will get stuck if I roll them down. (for DAYS.  And no, you cant just pull them up)  So I need to open the door.  What if he thinks I am reaching for a gun and he shoots me?!?  OMG!  Maybe he will tase me!  Will I pee my pants?  It's too cold out to have urine soaked pants or to fall onto the ground outside.  Then he will knee my head to the ground while he waits for back up.  My face will be frost bitten!  Crap.  Everyone is gonna be saying "You see Amber on the arrest reports?"  They will look at me with their judgy eyes at the store and at work.  Oh GOD!  Can I lose my job if they shoot me or arrest me.  Dammit!  Why didn't I stop?!

       I am carefully watching in my side mirror to see his door open.  My eyes are watering.  No, not from crying.  From those freakin LED lights!!  Seriously, I think those are dangerously bright.  Have you ever just driven past someone being pulled over at night or a grip of them at the scene of a nighttime accident?  It is astonishing that they can be so freakin bright!  Anyway, I see the door open and I swallow deeply.  He's been behind me now (presumably running my plates, checking my facebook, calling my parents, and loading his gun) for enough time that my heart beat, though fast, has regulated.  I am trying to keep an eye on the door through the flashing glow of the lights.  I am looking for him to get out so I have my hands up to show him that I am harmless and more scared of him than he is of me.  I need to alert him that my windows are broken and that I need to open the door. 

        The door closes.  I missed seeing him get out.  So I sit up and straight and have my hands up. And suddenly I see him whisk by me.  I am left in the dark.  Looking ahead I see him California Roll through that stop and turn left.  I can hear his sirens.

       I sit there.  My hands are still in the air.  WTF am I supposed to do?  Surly he ran my plates.  Is he coming back?  Did they tag team and someone else is swinging by to write my ticket?  Should I leave?  I look around.  Dumbfounded.  I am trying to process what just happened.  Eventually I decide to leave.  I slowly place my hands at 10 and 2 and get back on my route.  I was half way to the restaurant.  The rest of the way I kept Mario Andretti under wraps and followed the rules of the road with caution and persistence.

        I got to the restaurant within minutes of the others.  Managed to look fly and get out of a ticket without even taking the girls out...  :)

Drive carefully, my friends.  Make complete stops.  Have valid licenses.  Proof of insurance.  And don't get shot.