Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Wednesday, Apr. 13, 2005 - 6:53 p.m.

Okay, I admit it, I shouldn't have done it. I knew when I thought of it I shouldn't do it, and I knew while I was doing it that I should do it, and yet, I did one of the single most boneheaded things I have ever done in my entire life today, despite knowing full-well what a boneheaded thing it was to do.

But you know how sometimes you're just having an itchy trigger finger kinda day? It's not going really well, but not really badly, the weather is gorgeous but you're having to take care of things you don't want to have to deal with, and on top of it all, you have hideous heartburn from the garlic-ginger sauce at lunch, and you just need to pee. So when the idiot staked out in front of you on a major thoroughfare lays claim to the 40 square feet of asphalt right below his car in the middle of the intersection and just decides to camp there, despite the lack of opposing traffic and the clear left-turn lanes beckoning to him, something inside you just goes "fuck it" and takes the left turn into the completely unobstructed near left lane sitting there so inviting nearly right in front of your car. What the hey? It's easy, you have a perfectly clear shot into it, all you have to do is turn your wheel that way and touch the gas, and anyway, the moron in front of you is apparently content to sit there in the middle of the intersection, just owning it until the light turns red. I am only human, peeps. So despite the utter stupidity of the whole thing, I took the shot.

Right in front of a motorcycle policeman sitting invisibly 4 cars back.

Of course, as soon as I saw him, I realized there was no going back and started to pull over. For his part, he flipped a u-ey right there, hitting his lights in the process, and I finished pulling over right as the siren went into swing and I realized that not only have I no proof of registration, thanks to the thieves who broke into my car back in November, I also had no proof of insurance, as that was also stolen, and when the new ID cards came last week, I just set them somewhere inside the house, as opposed to the inside of the car, where they belong. Greeeeaaaat. Then the tallest policeman in the world meandered over to my window and very nicely bent nearly all the way into it to ask me very politely, "Would you mind telling me what you thought you were doing there, ma'am?"

I have to give him props. He was very nice about it.

Me, I answered "Being a bonehead, officer."

He then proceeded to tell me all the reasons why that particular maneuver was a dangerous one, and I nodded the entire time and told him, yes, sir, I know it was, I have no excuse, I was an idiot. Then he asked me for proof of insurance and registration, and that's where things got dicey.

I had to explain all about the break-in and how the State of Texas frowns on just re-issuing willynilly any sort of title or proof of registration to persons who have been irresponsible enough to have lost both of those things and are unable to prove the car in question is, in fact, theirs. And then I babbled about how yes, I do have insurance, it's with State Farm, and in point of fact, the new ID cards came in the mail just the other day...and are um, at home...somewhere.

He took all this with a grain of salt and nary an expression change, went back to his bike with my license, and probably started running me thru every single known terrorist and criminal database in the state. I, meanwhile, feverishly combed my car for any piece of paper at all that might indicate I ever even once in my life carried insurance on my vehicle, and even called TB on my cell and pled with him to please please PLEASE go through the monumental stacks of paper I call a filing system and find something, anything, with my insurance policy number on it, knowing full-well that the lack of insurance, as well as no discernible proof of registration are reason enough in this state to impound an autombile. As TB was freaking out and asking a million questions, because he couldn't discern from my rapidly-fired request whether or not I'd been in an accident, The Very Nice (& Incredibly Tall) Policeman returned to my car and started talking to me, at which point, I had to issue a clipped "I'll call you back" to TB, which caused TVN(&IT)P to ask what that was about, and I said I'd been trying to get my policy number from home, and he said well, he'd just written me a warning for that, but could I please explain again just where my registration was, that I was getting a citation for unsafe driving, and would I please sign right here while he explained all the legal hoops I will now need to jump through. After which he again lectured me on the stupidity of the maneuver which warranted the ticket, and I again said yes, sir, that's the first time I've ever done that and you can bet it will be the last, as it was remarkably stupid, and I'm sorry. To which he said he appreciated my candor, and I said I appreciated his politeness, and he told me to put proof of insurance in my car, and I said oh, believe me, The Boyfriend will make sure I do not forget, he grimaced (thus leading me to believe he has a significant other of similar temprament at home), he bid me good day and be careful, I said you too, and that was the end of that. But you know, I am not really sorry that I did it, aside from the unsafe driving ticket that I am sure will come back to bite me in the butt at the single most inopportune time possible, and the end of the single longest ticketless run I have ever enjoyed (somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 years I managed to go without even a speeding ticket). Frankly, I hold the unholy phenomenon that is LA traffic responsible for my Falling-Downesque behavior, but that is no excuse, and it *was* dumb; alas. :(

And now, if you will excuse me, I have some insurance ID cards around here somewhere that I need to find.

Peace out,
Katie

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