My Run-In With The Police

Hello lovelies. Today I was supposed to be posting and epic article about the top 10 hot air balloon rides around the world. I spent close to two hours writing about all the fantastic places, comparing prices, linking to booking sites for each one, and collecting DROOL WORTHY photos. Then, just as I was finishing up, the whole post magically disappeared. I really should be worrying about re-writing it right now, but I’m an optimist so I’m still halfway hoping that it will magically reappear any second now.

Aside from losing my work of art somewhere in the deep voids of the internet, I’ve spent my time cooking for siblings, working, and… oh yeah, there was that interesting run-in with the police. This week has been something else.

Here’s the story…

Mom and dad were are in Hawaii taking care of my grandpa who is quite sick. My older sister left for the day to work. So I had full charge of my younger brother and sister.

I got this…

When I got home from work, my lil bro and I jumped into the pool. Instead of doing my usual water aerobics routine, I decided to just play with my lil bro instead. (I am such an angel.) We splashed and laughed. Meanwhile in the back of my head I was mentally touring the fridge and pantry and planning what amazing food I could whip up for dinner.

I’ve got this house under control…

And then my little sister ran out.

“There is a man at the front door and he wants us to move our car RIGHT NOW! If we don’t he is going to call the POLICE!”

Lil sister’s voice was frantic. So I hopped out of the pool and ran up the stairs to throw a proper shirt on over my swim shorts. A young man stood at the front door. Behind him stood an assortment of gruff looking men and the biggest semi-truck I had ever seen.

What in the world are they trying to do with that monster on our teeny tiny neighborhood streets?

I tried to maintain some level of calm and composure as the man demanded that we move the car that was parked on our curb because it was too close to the stop sign and thus parked illegally.

He really seemed to enjoy mentioning that it was parked illegally. He probably mentioned it three or five times before I had a chance to respond. Meanwhile, I calmly listened to him while my still soaking swim trunks dripped puddles onto the space between us.

Hopefully, he won’t notice.

“I’m really sorry, but that is my sister’s car and I don’t have the keys”.

Okay, so that wasn’t 100% true. It was my parents car and I wasn’t sure about the keys, but I didn’t have a license or any idea how to move a minivan around a semi-truck and I wasn’t about to trust any one of the angry men outside my door to do it. Nor was I about to tell them that my parents were in Hawaii and that I was alone and completely helpless. Plus, my sister’s car was sitting out in front of the house on another curb, so I figured it wasn’t too much of a stretch.

“Is there any other route you could take?”

“Nope. We are trying to get to the house behind you. We have their furniture.”

Goodness gracious, what kind of a castle are they trying to furnish?

So I closed the door and locked it. What to do? The men were really quite stuck and I had no way to help them. I called my mom, my dad, and my sister. They were all way too far away to do anything, but I figured I’d call them anyway. Meanwhile, I ransacked every box in my closet until I found the car key my parents had given to me when I graduated high school a year ago.

Haha, I really should have a license by now. Why don’t I have a license?

My parents called. They were trying to piece together my fragmented pleas whilst dealing with their own parking situation in Hawaii. So I hung up on them and went back outside.

I noticed the crowd around my house had grown to include a few interested male neighbors.

Couldn’t there be a woman? Just one?

A policeman addressed me,

“Miss, is this your car?” He pointed to my sister’s car and I politely told him that it was my sister’s and that she had the key and was away at work.

“And whose is that?” He pointed to the offending minivan.

“My parents.”

“Can you please move it for just a minute while these men turn their truck around?”

“I can’t. I want to help these men, I really do. But I don’t know what to do!”

My parents tried to call me back. By that time I was way too mad at them for being in Hawaii to consider answering.

I hate feeling incapable and out of control, but the fact that I was sobbing out each word wasn’t exactly helping my authoritative image.

You are surrounded by bunches of unfeeling men including angry movers and neighbors who seem to be watching for their entertainment pleasure. For goodness sakes STOP CRYING.

“Do you have a key?”

“Yes.”

Avoid eye contact with angry man who you just lied to ten minutes ago.

“Can you please just move your parents car for five minutes?”

“I don’t have a license!”

“YOU HAVE MY PERMSSION TO MOVE THE CAR!”

With tears spilling down my cheeks and pool water still dripping puddles at my feet, I just knew that I was not emotionally stable enough to drive a car around a semi-truck for the first time. Not to mention that the crowd staring at me wasn’t exactly the poster child of a support group.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW!”

Wow, Susanna. You are really handeling this one well, aren’t you.

“Can I please drive it for you, I’ll just back it up a little so these men can get their truck around.”

So it was that I gave the policeman the key and he moved the car while I silently reprimanded myself.

Seriously. A police man just gave you permission to drive illegally and you turned him down. You are going to be regretting this one the rest of your life.

(Yes, I do in fact talk to myself in the third person when I am angry. It is like I don’t even want to associate myself with myself anymore.)

Anyhow, the scary men left. The police man gave me back my key and demanded “Why don’t you have a license?”.

“Because I’m moving to Europe and I won’t need one there so I don’t want to pay for insurance.”

Because I’m not emotionally stable enough to drive. Obviously.

Then the police officer took down my name and number like I was in trouble or something. I ran into the house and spent the rest of the evening madly cooking dish after dish cause that is what I do when I can’t be bothered to think.

When my older sister got home hours later, she didn’t even question the scattered meal for an army that I presented to her. She just ate it all. I love her.

And there you have it. The story of how a policeman gave me permission to do something illegal and I turned him down (*kicks myself*). It wasn’t hot air balloon rides, but I hope it entertained you half as much as it entertained my male neighbors.