This morning started out like every other morning - get ready, take kids to school, drive to work while I talk to Dena on the phone. I was at a light and a police officer was behind me and I said to Dena, kind of laughing, “there is a cop behind me and I am pretty sure he is running my plates - you know how you can tell, cause they keep looking at the back of your car and then down at their little computer…” The light turned green and I made my left hand turn. Before I even completed the turn, his lights were on and I said to Dena, “Shit, I have to go, he is seriously pulling me over.”

I pulled into the Mall parking lot and put my car in drive, while going through the checklist in my head, was I speeding? No, Was my seat-belt on? Yes, was I swerving? Nope, too early for that. I was clueless! I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw him getting out of his car. Before I could blink my eyes, he had his gun drawn and was yelling at me to slowly get out of my vehicle and put my hands on the hood of the car. I WAS SCARED SHITLESS!!! WTF - who does this guy think I am, in my hibiscus capri’s, a polo shirt and my brown leather flip flops? Do I look like some thug?

POLICE MAN:
Is this your vehicle?

ME:
Ummm Yes! **as I am shaking like I am having a seizure**

POLICE MAN:
Where did you get the license plates on this vehicle?

ME:
From DMV, like five years ago.

POLICE MAN:
I need to see your license and registration, you can wait right here for a moment and relax.

Relax? I just shit in my underwear and I am crying so hard that there is mascara running down my face, WTF do you mean relax? I am thinking about all the people that I know that are going to see me on Crime Solvers or COPS, not to mention I was now late for work…again.

Well, after a lot of me crying and a lot of him telling me to calm down, it was figured out that the dealer I purchased my car from did not transfer my plates and they were still registered to my Expedition - so he thought I was driving a stolen vehicle. Thank god I had the receipt from the dealer in my glove-box to show that I had paid the dealer to transfer the tags for me. So he eased up and believed my story. But he still wrote me a damn ticket! For “Fictitious Tags.” I have to go to court and show him that I have taken care of the issue. ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!