Like many other women, I think that a man in uniform is sexy and policemen fit right into that category. So I had a date planned with a policeman…Let me start from the beginning.
About a month ago, I pulled out of my therapist’s parking lot onto the main road at 9:00 p.m. on a Monday night. I was quietly sitting and crying at a stoplight thinking about the things we had discussed when I noticed that a policeman was in the other lane next to me. The road at this time of night was rather desserted, so he wasn’t hard to miss.
The traffic light turned green and I proceeded to start driving slowly forward. Within seconds, the policeman pulled behind me and turned on the flashing lights indicating that he wanted me to pull over. I thought, “HOW could I have been speeding because I was STOPPED at a red light!”
I rolled down the window and watched in the side view mirror as the policeman approached my car like I was a wanted criminal.
I was a bit aggravated and with my tear-stained face asked him, “WHAT did I do wrong?!”
“Is this your car?” he asked.
Mama mia! No, it is Elvis Presley’s car! Duh, of course it is my car.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Your registration is expired,” he replied.
Oh my goodness!! Not again. Please, please, please don’t let this policeman give me a ticket like the one did last year. My sister always gets out of tickets, so please, just once, let me not get a ticket.
“Let me see your license and registration.”
Oh Hell! He’s going to give me a ticket. In my frustration and because I was already befuddled, I couldn’t find my registration.
“That’s okay,” the policeman said after watching me frantically search through my wallet for the third time, “Just let me have your Driver’s License. Is it current?”
“Yes,” I answered, completely deflated and sad that I was going to have a big old rigamarole with my registration.
The policeman went back to his car, got inside and that’s when I stopped watching him. Why did life have to get so complicated for me? Was it really so hard for me to keep track of a simple thing like a registration or my Driver’s License renewals? I never had this problem before PTSD took over my life. *sigh*
“Just relax,” I told myself. “It isn’t like I just robbed a bank.” However, the PTSD was causing my emotions to go haywire and I felt like bawling or jumping out of my car to beg him not to give me a ticket.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the side view mirror and realized the policeman was walking back towards my car holding a yellow ticket.
“If I go to court will it get thrown out?” I asked as he tilted it towards my window.
“If you will be quiet, I will explain it to you,” the arrogant policeman said.
I mean, really, was it necessary to say that to me in such a tone? Was he so blind that he couldn’t see I had been crying already? Did it cross his mind that I might not be coping very well with this whole ticket thing?
He started talking right in the middle of my brain going nuts.
“You can pay the fine or appear in court to prove that you have paid for your registration and the ticket will be thrown out,” the policeman said.
I took the ticket and said nothing. The policeman walked back to his car and I drove home.
A month went by and my day in court arrived. Not only was I running late, but I walked into the courtroom as the judge was walking to his seat at the front of the room. I chose the last row to sit in and figured that I would be there until the very end just like the other two times that I’ve had this experience.
The judge calls a policeman’s name and the court lady calls a ladies’ name. They both stand in front of the judge and talk in muted tones. I couldn’t make out a word they were saying. Within a minute they were finished and both walked away from the judge.
Then the court lady called another person’s name and the judge called a different policeman’s name. In turn, three people end up being called up with that policeman. Each time they talk so low that I can’t make out any of the conversation. This is going to be a very boring two hours, I thought.
Looking over at the row of policemen seated quietly waiting for their turn, I didn’t recognize any of them as being the policeman who gave me a ticket. However, I never remember what the policemen look like, so it was no big deal.
I hear the judge call another policeman’s name and the court lady calls out my name. OH MY! I can’t hardly believe it is already my turn! The judge asks, “Has anyone heard from Officer (leaving out his name) today?”
No one says anything.
I’m now standing in front of the judge with my registration in hand. The judge glances at me and asks, “Have you taken care of this?” meaning my registration.
“Yes,” is all I said.
“Well,” the judge begins,”since the Officer isn’t here and you’ve already taken care of the matter, I’m going to throw this out. You’re free to go.”
“Thank you,” I replied and I left the courtroom happy even though I was stood up on my date with the policeman. This is one time that being stood up is a good thing!