Not Punking Out
Ok, for those of you who read Keene's blog, he has slandered me. (Expect a call from my lawyer B! ;-) ) I have not punked out. My plan is the same as yesterday. I went out last night and bought a couple of boxes of nicorette. I have a supply of mints, bubble gum, pretzel rods, and straws. Yes, straws. They work for the oral fixation (stop snickering) and I can hold them in my fingers like a cigarette. I cut them to cigarette size. I've been preparing myself mentally. And I don't smoke as much either. I still have a few cigarettes left in the pack I bought yesterday morning at 8:30. It's now almost noon. That's good for me. The next pack I buy I'm going to try not to smoke more than 10 a day. And so on until D day. I know me. I can't just stop. I need to work at it. But as of July 22, I will not smoke at all....not even one. It's important to me to succeed this time. I've beaten other addictions, I can beat this one too.
That being said...time to move on to the rant. This one's about cops. I'm not cop bashing, I'm friends with quite a few. But what I want to know is, how come they are never around when someone is cutting me off, or running me off the road, or shoots past me at 100 mph. But they're always around when I'm keeping with traffic, but also going a little too fast.
I'm on my way home from the Pit yesterday. I just pull out of a very sharp turn that puts me onto 287. I start on down the highway. Not too far ahead of me I see the glimmer of a cop in the usual trap. I check my speed, I'm doing a little under 70, I tap my breaks. By the time I pass him, I'm down to just over 60. Then, I see a cop speeding in my lane behind me. He wasn't there before, and he was far back when he started his pursuit. I figured he was on a call so I moved over. He moved over with me and flipped on his light. Fuck.
He asks me how fast I thought I was going. I told him I wasn't sure, because when he put his lights on I was doing a little over 60. He said, you do know this is a 55 zone. I said that I had forgotten that it didn't turn into 65 until up a little further. He asked why I had no idea how fast I was going "back there." I said I was just keeping with traffic and wasn't paying attention, I apologized. He told me I was doing 75. Then he went back to his car and took 15 minutes to write my ticket. The ticket said 80 in a 55. When did it jump to 80? And where was he when he clocked me at 75? But I kept smiling and calling him sir. He said I could go to court and see if I could get it lowered. I thanked him and went on my way.
Upon closer inspection of the ticket, he had checked off that he had paced me. WHAT? By the time he was anywhere near me to pace me I was doin a little over 60. Don't they have to follow behind you a bit to pace you? This guy came out of nowhere. Whatever. It's just my luck. I finally get my points down to zero and now I get a ticket for going 25 miles over the limit, even though he originally told me I was going 75. He was an old cop. I think he may be going senile. I don't want a four pointer, at least that's what I think it is. So I have to go to court. I've been to the Mahwah court before. I got out of a four pointer scot free with the help of a lawyer (at that time, 4 points would have caused me to lose my license). This was almost 3 years ago. I hope they don't remember me.
Funnier, Fran has a court date there at the end of the month. He was driving a rental van for work on Rt. 17. He was in the left lane. A cop pulled him over and said trucks weren't allowed in the left lane. He explained that he was only passing, and that he had a van, not a truck. The cop ignored him and gave him the ticket. It's a 4 pointer. Now he has to fight it in court. They are so gonna know the name Fatras. Figures, I get pulled over weeks before I kiss this commute goodbye.
I wouldn't call myself an unlucky person. I have plenty of luck. It's just all bad.
Ok, for those of you who read Keene's blog, he has slandered me. (Expect a call from my lawyer B! ;-) ) I have not punked out. My plan is the same as yesterday. I went out last night and bought a couple of boxes of nicorette. I have a supply of mints, bubble gum, pretzel rods, and straws. Yes, straws. They work for the oral fixation (stop snickering) and I can hold them in my fingers like a cigarette. I cut them to cigarette size. I've been preparing myself mentally. And I don't smoke as much either. I still have a few cigarettes left in the pack I bought yesterday morning at 8:30. It's now almost noon. That's good for me. The next pack I buy I'm going to try not to smoke more than 10 a day. And so on until D day. I know me. I can't just stop. I need to work at it. But as of July 22, I will not smoke at all....not even one. It's important to me to succeed this time. I've beaten other addictions, I can beat this one too.
That being said...time to move on to the rant. This one's about cops. I'm not cop bashing, I'm friends with quite a few. But what I want to know is, how come they are never around when someone is cutting me off, or running me off the road, or shoots past me at 100 mph. But they're always around when I'm keeping with traffic, but also going a little too fast.
I'm on my way home from the Pit yesterday. I just pull out of a very sharp turn that puts me onto 287. I start on down the highway. Not too far ahead of me I see the glimmer of a cop in the usual trap. I check my speed, I'm doing a little under 70, I tap my breaks. By the time I pass him, I'm down to just over 60. Then, I see a cop speeding in my lane behind me. He wasn't there before, and he was far back when he started his pursuit. I figured he was on a call so I moved over. He moved over with me and flipped on his light. Fuck.
He asks me how fast I thought I was going. I told him I wasn't sure, because when he put his lights on I was doing a little over 60. He said, you do know this is a 55 zone. I said that I had forgotten that it didn't turn into 65 until up a little further. He asked why I had no idea how fast I was going "back there." I said I was just keeping with traffic and wasn't paying attention, I apologized. He told me I was doing 75. Then he went back to his car and took 15 minutes to write my ticket. The ticket said 80 in a 55. When did it jump to 80? And where was he when he clocked me at 75? But I kept smiling and calling him sir. He said I could go to court and see if I could get it lowered. I thanked him and went on my way.
Upon closer inspection of the ticket, he had checked off that he had paced me. WHAT? By the time he was anywhere near me to pace me I was doin a little over 60. Don't they have to follow behind you a bit to pace you? This guy came out of nowhere. Whatever. It's just my luck. I finally get my points down to zero and now I get a ticket for going 25 miles over the limit, even though he originally told me I was going 75. He was an old cop. I think he may be going senile. I don't want a four pointer, at least that's what I think it is. So I have to go to court. I've been to the Mahwah court before. I got out of a four pointer scot free with the help of a lawyer (at that time, 4 points would have caused me to lose my license). This was almost 3 years ago. I hope they don't remember me.
Funnier, Fran has a court date there at the end of the month. He was driving a rental van for work on Rt. 17. He was in the left lane. A cop pulled him over and said trucks weren't allowed in the left lane. He explained that he was only passing, and that he had a van, not a truck. The cop ignored him and gave him the ticket. It's a 4 pointer. Now he has to fight it in court. They are so gonna know the name Fatras. Figures, I get pulled over weeks before I kiss this commute goodbye.
I wouldn't call myself an unlucky person. I have plenty of luck. It's just all bad.
posted by Meghan at 12:15 PM
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