Cops and Me: Awesomeness!

I was designated driver for some kids massive birthday party last night. I don’t drink, and don’t suspect I ever will. Everything was going smoothly until the host of the party called me and told me that he needed a ride back to the dorm. I got there, collected some kids, and went back. But when we got near my dorm, the guys say they are hungry. So I make a turn and head to the Union. When everything is done, all the food eaten, I head back with the guys, and drop them off. The problem was that I forgot to turn on the headlights. Honestly, why can’t things be automatic?

In any case, I get flagged down. I pull over. The cop takes my license and the host’s registration; it’s his van. I tell him as many times as I can that I am completely sober. But he decides the best path is the one where he fucks around with me. The officer takes me out and has me perform the field sobriety test. I passed, I think. I’m naturally clumsy and was wearing work boots, which obviously didn’t help much. He lets me off with a verbal warning, after telling me that I would be fucked if I decided to drive anywhere again that night.

Sometimes I just don’t get it: if he had just given me a breathalyzer test I would have been cleared.



You know what’s funny? The fact that everyone has something bad to say. My math class, in order to spark some interest in the morning functions, rants about average, daily life. Everything bad to say about anything and anyone, therefore, occurs at 9 in the morning. Apparently, there exists a C.A. (or residential advisor) that is so unequivocally evil and insane, that she can’t accept that sometimes the position of being a C.A. doesn’t involve ingratiating into all the lives of the residential hall in which the particular C.A. functions. C.A.s are there to make everything go smoothly on the floor.

It just seems like everyone has something to bitch about. That’s all.