The walk of shame

I’m not talking about treading barefoot, holding a pair of ragged heels by a broken strap in one hand and the edge of your blouse clasping it shut with the other as you make your way out of the man of the hour’s room and out of the house free in the clear.

We’ve all been there, there is no point in denying the fact that they happen. It does, if you are a lady and have roommates, guys go through the exact same thing. And if you are one of the very few that this has not happened to, I would love to steal your thunder and a particle of your halo!

No, this would be the walk of shame that falls when opening the doors to a court room. The shame.

I got a ticket. Amazingly not for speeding but for the most moronic reasons possible. Reasons that clearly make me feel like a ditz.

Strike One: My latest insurance cards were not printed out and I completely forgot when the plan was renewed to replace the old ones.

Strike Two: My license plates were not registered within the state and they were still holding my dear old plates and tabs from 2007.
I’m thinking the same thing, how completely irresponsible to first not have updated insurance cards within reach (hello…) then to top that off and have expired plates.

Let’s just put a placard out that says, this gal is stupid. And deserves to be pulled over in rush hour traffic.

I have bypassed the law numerous times, casually talking with cops and having a firefighter emblem on the car doesn’t hurt. They’re both basically ‘Get out of jail free’ passes. This is nothing new to get out of a ticket. I don’t have breasts like Dolly Parton nor would I ever push them forward so it’s either bust out the jesus eyes or drop the voice an octave or two.

A few years ago I was dating a cop. We were hotter than hot, and then he got really creepy and immediately the temperature dropped well below zero and he was kicked to the curb. The reason he’s brought up is because he would make these random comments about if he couldn’t get a hold of me by mobile he’d track me down by my car.

Say what?

Crazy, the man was crazy. I didn’t mind the handcuffs but when conversations turn possessive, it’s time to go. So right about the time that my tabs were due, I refused to have ‘big brother’ aka Badge Number 4482, watch over me. Which eventually turned into a couple of years, that turned into a move out of state, and then another move clear mid country. Mind you, and this is the most ironic part, I had an appointment with the DMV to get the plates registered over that very weekend, three days before the incident of getting pulled over.

But as luck would have it, bright flashing lights and a fairly decent officer decided enough was enough. I fought the law, and the law won.

Which brings me to yesterday, a morning visit to the courthouse. The officer that pulled me over laughed with me at the time because of my utter stupidity (he did not get the entire story) and told me to register, contest and there’d be no charge but there would be a court date.

I have never had to go to court, ever. I’d like to think that under my devil horns there is a hint of an angelic presence. Probably not, but there’s still wishful thinking. I started getting nervous after my name was called, my dress getting tight where the belt rested below my chest. Finally after all of five minutes of waiting it was my turn with the judge and what happens.

I forgot the insurance forms. What an idiot. Who does this? Someone who is completely unprepared. Not the case, I had everything except the forms that were missing from my car that day. I have to go back, make the walk of shame through the courthouse and sit amongst the other offenders because that’s exactly what I am.

A clueless offender.

What makes this an even better story, on my way into work I got soaked from a massive rain storm that ruined my umbrella and drenched my entire body. I walked into work, doing my own walk of shame and the damn sky was laughing at me.

I’m laughing back at it and smiling because this is so typical and would only happen at that exact moment.