After all the trouble we could have gotten into with the beer and mayhem of a Red Sox game, all the possibilities of a night out in Boston, and two back-to-back trips speeding along the Mass Turnpike at roughly 80 miles per hour, I get stopped for a ticket literally two minutes from my home. We were in the very last stretch of our Sunday morning arrival when the lights and siren sounded behind me.
“Do I pull over here?” I asked Skip, trying not to panic. Even having been in this position a number of times before, it still frazzled me.
“Yes,” he calmly instructed. “Turn the car off.”
“Off? All the way off?”
“Yes. And turn your hazards on.”
It should go without saying that I had no clue where or how to turn on any hazards, Dukes or otherwise, and I was too flustered trying to figure out how to roll my window down to worry about a light show at that moment.
A blonde-haired, blue-eyed police officer strode to the side of my car and smiled as he peered in. “How are you doing? That’s a different color! What do they call that, seafoam blue?”
Was he really talking about my car? The Ice Blue Show Queen? I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I think so!” He could call it prairie dog diarrhea bullshit brown for all I cared, just as long as he didn’t beat me.
“Ok, I stopped you for going 45 in a 30,” he said as he walked to the front of the car to get a closer look at it. My lime green stripes must have caught his eye again as he made another comment on how different the color was before asking politely for my license. I handed it to him and he walked back to his car, all smiles and Sunday morning cheer.
Skip said there was no way I was getting out of it. 45 in a 30? No way. I asked how much the ticket would be. $200? MORE?!? We were just about to get into the odds of getting a ticket in the final minutes of a two-and-a-half hour ride home (during which I probably broke the speed limit much more than this little residential romp) when Officer Handsome strode back.
He made yet another comment on the color, “It’s just registered as ‘Blue’!” He exclaimed, laughed a little and then said he was letting me off with a warning. Then he smiled and said to have a good day. I thanked him. Aside from Andy, this was hands down the friendliest of Colonie’s finest that I’ve ever encountered. I wouldn’t have even minded if he gave me a ticket after all. (Ok, that’s totally not true, but I can pretend to be so magnanimous… because I got off!)
A happy ending to a happy weekend.Back to Blog