It's been crazy around here for the last week, what with K and J getting married and the whole family descending on our humble town. Why one week of insanity means I haven't posted anything in two weeks, well, uh... hi, aren't we cute?
Because I'm a last-minute kinda gal, I waited until last Tuesday to drive up to the outlets with my patient husband to buy a dress for the weekend wedding. As I exited I-35, a police officer traveling in the lane next to me slammed on his brakes and peered at something on my back bumper. Then he pulled behind me and flicked on his lights.
I pulled over into a car dealership off the expressway and rolled down my window as the officer pulled up beside me.
"Whose vehicle is this?" he asked.
"Mine," I replied.
"Did you put that sticker on the back of your vehicle? What's Johnny Socko?"
I explained that the sticker was for a band out of Indiana. He said,
"Well, you're in violation of federal code, having that sticker that's designed to look like you're transporting hazardous materials."
I don't know why my first instinct was to argue - perhaps because I'm an idiot - but I said incredulously "I've had this sticker on my car for eight years!"
He went on "Hey, this is just a friendly warning. I think your sticker's clever. Heck, I like it. And I'm not writing you a ticket. You're not even getting a warning. In fact, you're not even stopped right now."
(At this point, I glanced wildly around at my obviously stationary Saturn, confused.)
Then he told us we were free to go and drove off.
Definitely my strangest runin with an officer of the law.