November 4, 2011

speed racer and other fast things

Alrighty, here is the deal. I am not a speeder or a racer. But about a month and a half ago I did get my very first speeding ticket. You know how families celebrate their child's first everything? First step, first Christmas, first tooth, first smile, etc. etc.? Ever notice how first speeding ticket didn't make the cut? While I was not speed racing when I got said ticket, I was apparently speeding. (I'm really good at twisting this to make myself sound innocent because I am highly embarrassed that I got a ticket and you should be glad I am sharing this with you and the entire internet.)

Now, I had not planned on sharing this horrible part of my life with y'all, but after going to court yesterday and all the ridiculousness that followed I decided that, by golly, if this experience wasn't a blog post in the making then I don't know what was!

Fun fact #2354 about Emily C. Moore Butts: I am terrified of getting in trouble. Terrified. I get anxious thinking about it. Examples? Throughout school I never ever raised my hand in class for fear of being wrong. In second grade, the teacher accidentally wrote my name on the board then apologized profusely once she realized her mistake. It was too late, I was scarred forever. When I was younger, I was an incredibly picky eater but was always too afraid to order my cheeseburger plain or order the food that way I wanted because I was scared the waiter would be mad at me. Do I sound crazy enough yet?

Side note: having this totally understandable and not at all crazy fear and being Mary Caroline's daughter has not been an easy journey. MC is the one that is like "Hey hey! It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission!" She frequently likes to cheat the system at Disney and break in lines, stay for things we have too many people for, use fast passes that have expired...I could go on about this woman and how I have been traumatized. 

Needless to say, when I got pulled over on a Sunday morning as I was going to church I was ready to pee in my pants because I'm pretty sure those flashing lights mean that you have done something wrong. Did I mention that on this particular Sunday that I got pulled over on the way to church was also Freddie's birthday? Cops these days, have no mercy for birthdays and church goers.

I kind of tried my very best to push this incident far far back into the depths of my brain, but November 3, the ever so glamorous court date, crept up on me anyways. Now I had to be worried and terrified of yet another thing. Court! Bad people! Only bad people have to go to court! Everyone there will know I did something dumb! I don't even know what I am supposed to do! <<Look at all these worries, all of them so justified. Everyone was telling me what to expect and yet somehow everyone's version of what to expect was different.  I just went ahead and accepted that I would probably be carted off to jail immediately because of this horrible crime I had committed. I don't get tickets! I don't get in trouble! Couldn't I just tell the judge that?

Dearest Russell, knowing my irrational fears and being the best dad ever, decided that he was coming up to go with me. I was all like, "Ohhh Daddy-o, that is unnecessary. I am 22 years old. If you just tell me what to do and expect I will probably be fine." In my head I was like, "cry cry cry, whyyyyyyyy can't you just go for me and I can stay at home and hide forever??"

This thought of Russ coming with me and being there for me as I was Shaky McShakerson in my pants and saying what my plea was and everything was a very nice thought. And that is exactly just what it was, a thought. Because lawhammery, heaven forbid that something actually go right with this whole speedingticketiamgoingtocourt thing! After getting to City Hall several minutes late and not being able to find a parking spot anywhere and going in sans Russell so he could go park the car in East Africa and missing the whole explanation of what my plea options were, I scurried to find just one empty seat in the courtroom of 100+ people right before the judge started calling out names. Can you guess what happened next?

Dialouge in my head: I can't believe I'm late. What am I supposed to do now? Ugh ugh ugh. Good thing there are so many people here. I'll watch what other people do when their name is called and I'll know what to do when they call my na...

Judge: Emily Moore. 

Did that really just happen? Was my name seriously called first out of everyone in that room? YES. That was not a funny trick and I was kind of secretly hoping that this was another incident where there happened to be another Emily Moore. No such luck, it was all on me.

The good news of this whole story? I came out alive. I know you were all worried.
The moral of the story? Never get in trouble because then you have to go to court and go to jail and write a blog about it! Okay, okay, enough with the drama. 

I paid my fine as everyone else in my group trudged on to the probation office. Dad and I finished off the exciting morning with a delicious and very nutritious breakfast because nothing is as comforting as b-fast food.  Things I realized during breakfast: Getting called first was ridiculous. I am ridiculous. But only a little because shut up, that really was scary. My dad is the best. Whole wheat toast with butter is good.

Drive safe. Don't speed. Especially on birthdays and Sundays. 

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