Once again a member of the O'Doyle household narrowly escaped being hauled off to the slammer, and once again C-Rock's silver tongue was the only thing that saved the day. The major difference was that this time, I was the one in the clutches of the Atlanta P.D.!!
Three guesses what the incident involved... That's right! The glorified crossing guards that regularly shut-down the traffic light systems at major downtown intersections in order to direct the traffic flow "more efficiently." C-Rock and I were coming home from a football game and I was in severe pain from an overly full bladder that my in utero son had decided to start bouncing on. I was D.D. because C-Rock had thoroughly enjoyed the pre-game festivities. Most of the cars on our "secret back-route" home from campus turn left at this particular intersection to get to the interstate. Because we were instead going straight, we were the only car in the right lane and had just passed a few dozen cars waiting in the left lane to make the turn. So, here we are sitting for several minutes watching this traffic cop's back as he directs an endless stream of cars to come through the intersection in the opposite direction of me. Either I'm supposed to be going or he has forgotten that someone in my direction MIGHT be going straight instead of turning left.
I ask C-Rock, "Am I supposed to be going here?" To which he replies with irritation, "Yes! GO!" I tentatively pull forward and get half-way through the intersection when the cop notices me and he is PISSED. He jumps in front of my car, approaches my window, and aggressively directs me to back-up. I hadn't been trying to pull one over on him, the situation was legitimately unclear. At this point, I am embarrassed and uncomfortable. Driving in reverse is never my favorite and now I'm driving in reverse in the dark in an intersection with a raging officer in my face. Then, the SECOND I get all the way back to my starting point, he immediately motions me forward. (Now I'm angry because I understand that there is no reason he has had me back-up except to exert his authority and teach me a lesson for "disobeying" him). As I begin to pull forward, I say to myself, "Really?! You have GOT to be kidding me!" Which apparently, he decided was me mouthing off so he jumps BACK in front of me a second time and directs me to back up AGAIN.
So, my next obvious action was to instead floor the gas pedal, zoom around him, and blow through the intersection to enter the empty road and wide open freedom I've been staring at for the last 5 minutes. Listen, clearly this was a poor life decision and I don't know what to say for myself. I know when he had me slam on the brakes a second time it sent pain shooting through me from the bladder out. I know his overly aggressive actions were causing me to panic. Still, I haven't been so much as pulled over in more than a decade so this is obviously not my typical behavior.
Immediately this guy abandons his intersection, hops on his motorcycle (where did THAT come from anyway?!), and catches up to us about two blocks down the road. He asks for my license and registration, which is in the trunk. He gives me permission to go get it and in the meantime C-Rock asks if the officer would also like to see his license. While I'm hysterically rifling through the trunk looking for my wallet among our tailgating accoutrement, C-Rock has been directed to get out of the vehicle and the two of them are speaking out of my earshot. I find my wallet and begin to approach them when the officer whips around and tells me to "STAY WHERE YOU ARE". (WTH, you just asked me to get my license and show it to you). So I wait by the trunk focusing my energy on keeping all bodily fluids in. The guy sends C-Rock back to the car and calls me over so he can scream at me for several minutes while I'm not permitted to speak. I tell him, "Yes sir, I MUST be out of my mind sir, I apologize sir!" All of which is only pissing him off more. I tell him I don't know what came over me. I am 8 months pregnant, in physical pain, and am about to pee down my leg. He tells me he was about to pee down his leg when I "almost ran him over" and I should be going to jail for trying to run down an officer!
In the end, he did not take me to jail. He did not even give me a ticket. Why? I have no clue. He was not moved by anything I had to say for myself, so the only explanation left is whatever magical powers of persuasion C-Rock used. I remain baffled, but awed by my mysterious husband.
