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Monday, September 7, 2009

Worst Day Ever!

It was nine thirty in the morning and Luke and I were on our way to Sam’s. Brantley and I were to be hosting a wedding shower the next night and we needed a few more items. Not long into the trip I was shocked to see flashing lights in my rear view mirror. I was being pulled over.

I began to panic and it was in no way rational. “Keep it together. Keep it together. I can’t go to jail. I don’t want to get tasered. I wouldn’t last one minute in jail. Keep it together.”

I rolled down my window and began looking for my insurance card. That’s when a voice boomed in my ear, “Good morning.”

Standing next to me was the police officer. I hadn’t heard or seen him approaching my car and his greeting startled me. What resulted was a long scream that didn’t cease until I clapped my hands over my mouth. Afraid to let my hands off my mouth, I talked through them. “I’ve never been pulled over.”

“Calm down. Everything’s ok,” he says. “I just need to see your license, proof of insurance and registration.”

Unfortunately for me, my current insurance card was at home on my desk. I told the officer that the insurance card I had in my wallet was two weeks expired and that the most recent one was at home. He told me that he could let me off with a warning for speeding but he had to issue me a citation for not having proof of insurance.

“I’ll be right back with your license,” he said as he began to walk away. Then, suddenly he stopped and looked back at me, “Is there anything I’m going to find when I look up your driver’s license?” he
asked.

Panic set in all over again. “Find? I have no idea. You’d know better than I would. What are the possibilities? I mean I’ve never been arrested, or anything. Well, ok, I know I said that I had never been pulled over before, but actually there was this one time when I went through a traffic stop that was set up on the highway. They just let me through though because I wasn’t drunk. And, ok…I did smoke pot twice in college, but I never got caught or anything and I’m really sorry.”

I could tell by his face that I had said too much. He started backing away and waving his hands a little. “No. That’s not what I meant. You just sit tight and I’ll be right back.” he said.

Great, I thought. Just great. I had spilled my guts for no reason. A couple of minutes later he returned with my citation and Luke and I headed back home to get my insurance card and change his diaper. While gathering my insurance information Luke fell and began to cry. That wasn’t unusual. Babies are unsteady. Babies fall. Babies cry. I couldn’t find a scratch on him so as soon as he calmed down we headed back out the door.

However, on the drive there, Luke became fussy. I realized it was eleven o’clock. He must be hungry, I thought. I decided I should go ahead and feed him so I swung the car into a drive through right across the street from Sam’s. Our destination was so close I could see it. We would grab a quick but to eat and be on our way. I turned around to hand Luke a chicken strip and I couldn’t believe my eyes. On his forehead, right between his eyes was a blue lump the size of a lemon. I did a quick pupil check which was normal, but decided to play it safe and take him to the doctor anyway.

The doctor was impressed with his horn, but ultimately diagnosed him with only a hematoma (aka big, ugly bruise). She said he would be just fine, other than a bad headache for a couple of days. By the time we got out of there it was noon, which meant it was time for Luke’s three hour nap. We headed home. Sam’s had evaded us, yet again.

When Luke woke up from his nap, my in-laws were there to pick him up for an overnight visit. Finally, time to do a little party planning. I decided to head out, yet again, to Sam’s and was elated to
have made it there and back in one piece.

Once home, I heated up a quesadilla (from Sam’s, of course) so I could snack while I got the house ready. Halfway into my dinner, however, I bit down on something really hard. What the hell? Is that a bone? I spit the object out and could see something small and white. It was a tooth, and not just any tooth, but a “lateral.” Laterals are normally located on each side of your front teeth…not your kitchen counter. What was supposed to be a permanent crown had just found a very inopportune time to become less than permanent.

Having had my teeth cleaned the week before, I knew my dentist was at Disney World with his family and wouldn’t be back for a week. Awesome. Hey Doc, say hey to Goofy for me because that’s who I f@!#$*%^ look like right now.

So there I was with a court date for not having proof of insurance, a baby with a horn, and an achy breaky smile. It had been a very bad day. However, to make a (really) long story short, I found another dentist the next morning who was willing to help me on a Saturday AND I didn’t have to change the wedding shower from a luau to a hoedown to match my teeth. In the end, I hosted the shower with my tooth intact and without having been tasered or going to jail.