After a happy morning singing songs, reading books and blowing bubbles with a group of toddlers, I returned to my regularly scheduled work.
As I went to make my usual turn into the parking lot, I looked for oncoming traffic. I started to go. Stopped. Looked again and saw a motorcycle cop coming right at me. I remained stopped. The cop did not. Instead, he immediately flipped a u-turn and "lit me up." I pulled into the lot, but I couldn't get into a space, because that would have required backing up, and considering the cop was riding my bumper, that wasn't going to happen unless I felt like running over his chopper. The copper's chopper. Heh.
He strides over to my car window all Mr. Tight Pants I'm a Cop and Can Make Your Life Hell and asks if I have a license. Note that he didn't say, "License and registration." He asked me if I have a drivers' license. Anyway, he asks me if I know why he pulled me over.
Yes, because of the turn. I wouldn't normally say that I know way, but in this case, it didn't seem like it would help me to be coy about the whole situation.
He then proceeds to lecture me. I did say, "But I stopped," and he responded, as only Mr. Tight Pants I'm a Cop and Can Make Your Life Hell could, "I almost became your hood ornament."
That's not true for two reasons. 1) I STOPPED and 2) I was going a maximum of 2 mph before I stopped. No harm would have come to the precious copper chopper.
Now, he eventually let me pull forward into a parking space, but not before both the library director and the assistant director drove out of the lot.
So, the fact that he gave me only a "formal warning," is somewhat dampened by the fact that two major players in the future of my career saw me with the butt-end of my car hanging out of a parking space with a motorcycle cop behind me. Fun.
I started bawling after he left, but I got myself together, freshened my makeup, and went into the library head held high.
But I do have no intention of purposely visiting the executive offices anytime soon.
And just because the day hadn't made me nervous enough, on my way out of town to join Mr. WG for our forty minutes of quality time before our photography class, four teen boys decided to beat up on each other with big wooden sticks. Right in front of my car.
Where was Mr. Tight Pants I'm a Cop and Can Make Your Life Hell when I needed him?