To protect and serve...

...Is the motto of our beloved police force, correct? If I'm wrong, let me know. For now, we'll go with the fact that I am always right (just don't ask The BFF or The Teacher about this. They will tell you some sort of ridiculous lie proving otherwise.) In that case, I have a question. Is serving me with a speeding ticket what they were talking about when they came up with said slogan? I didn't think so.

It's true. I got my first speeding ticket yesterday. Ever. And I totally don't think I deserved it. For the following reasons:

1.The location of the incident.
Those of you that live in the city of trees know the certain stretch of road I was pulled over on. Right as the freeway becomes the connector. Before you even reach the Franklin on-ramp. Where there isn't a speed limit sign anywhere close. I don't know about you, but I don't consider myself to be on the connector until I reach the Franklin on-ramp and can see the mall to my left. That's where I slow down. And I was pulled over right before I hit that spot. Fair? I think not. I'm going to personally write a letter requesting a sign that states; "Welcome to the Connector-Home of the 55 mph speed limit. Please slow down NOW!" Seeing as how I am so powerful and convincing, I'm sure the powers that be will listen. So watch for that sign to come soon!

2. My impeccable character.
I am a very organized driver. All of my insurance cards are stapled to my registration and then stored in a handy envelope. Isn't there some sort of organization discount? If not, there's another letter I need to write.

3. My impeccable character (again).
I was clearly going with the flow of traffic. And I could have been an asshole and asked him if he did his 12-point check and all that jazz, but I didn't. And he still gave me a ticket. Two, to be exact, because I didn't have my most current insurance card (which was effective March 1st or something ridiculous like that. Seriously?!). Apparently, Officer Douchebag hasn't heard about going with the flow. Of anything. Not only do I get to pay $75, but I get to take a trip to the court house and visit with a clerk to show them that I am, in fact, an insured driver. Did I mention that fact that there are at least 11 old insurance cards all stapled together? And that the last one expired on February 28? I did?! Right. Just making sure we're clear.

Really, I'm not annoyed at all. It happens to everyone. Officer Douchebag was just doing his job. Protecting and serving.

While we're on the subject of the po-lice, I suppose its a good time to tell you about my first trip to Portland. We were maybe a month into our freshman year of college. The Hot One and The Artiste were planning their first weekend trip home and asked if I wanted to join. I didn't give a definite answer, but said I would think about it. Until they asked The Roommate if she wanted to go too. With no hesitation whatsoever, she said she was in. Not wanting to be outdone or left out, I said I was in too, and that next weekend, we were off.

That weekend, in addition to eating delicious homemade food (yaki soba noodles anyone?) and spending way too much money shopping (the no sales tax thing seems like a great idea at the time!), I got the chance to truly find out who The Artiste and The Hot One really were. And my suspicions were confirmed: they were just as crazy as I thought they were.

All of their old friends from high school were in town for the weekend, and they had a huge reunion party. Keep in mind that I'm from small town Idaho; the party was out of control compared to what I was used to. The Artiste and The Backbreaker officially coined the phrase "rocking the Winnie," I was introduced to the wonders of Skyy vodka, and The Roommate decided she wasn't ready to call it a night when everyone else finally did. And so she invited the two sketchiest people at the party home with us.

I'm not making this up. In THO and TA's circle of friends and acquaintances, they were known as The Murderer and The Rapist. The Murderer was a Golden Gloves boxing champ, and had just recently spent a little time in prison for beating someone with a metal pipe.

The Rapist wasn't technically a rapist; he was just reallly creepy and reallly touchy-feely. And there were some rumors that he didn't fully understand the boundaries involved when a girl passed out from too much alcohol.

And The Roommate really invited them over. It was an uneventful end to the evening, but it still gave me great insight into who I was dealing with.

All in all, the trip was a good one. The ride home, however, was a long one, and its where the po-lice come into play.

Oregon cops are assholes. We had 2 cars on the way back-one with the 3 of us and one with The Artiste and her sister. We were a mere hour into our drive, when we rounded a bend and came face to face with a cop. TA was leading and so she got pulled over. Both for speeding (maybe 10 over the limit. Maybe) and for not having a clear view in her rearview mirror. Thankfully, she didn't get a ticket.

Because we were following her, we drove a few miles and then pulled over. Bad idea, as the cop pulled up behind us a little later. Apparently its not a good idea to wait for someone you were following, if that someone was speeding. It most likely means you were speeding too. And he did have a point. But, he chalked it up as a learning experience and we were off once again.

The drive between Portland and Boise is a long one, but not a bad one. In the day time. Because its pretty. Nightime is a different story. Being girls, when nature calls, we have to find an appropriate facility. Unfortunatley for us, there was not one in sight and nature was calling persistently. And so we pulled off and found a nice empty field. With some razorblades decorating it. Why they were there we do not know, nor did we wish to find out. We were just glad that we had all somehow managed to avoid them during the peeing process.

And back in the car we went. A short time later, still following TA, a car came racing up behind me, with headlights flashing. Not knowing what the hell was going on, we pulled over to the side of the road and let it pass. As it flew by, we recognized the familiar marking of a state trooper. 'Weird that he didn't have his actual lights on,' we thought.

A short time later, we saw the state trooper and his latest prey, 2 semi-trucks. As we passed them, the officer did the weirdest thing. He turned his flashlight on us as we passed, and hopped into his car. And pulled both of us over. The 2 semi-trucks both had to follow, so he had 4 cars pulled over all at once. And what was our crime this time? He 'paced' us and said we must have been going at least 15 over the limit. Not true in any way, shape, or form. Don't you think we learned our lesson the first time? Again, TH was leading and this time she got a ticket. And a date in court. Like I said, Oregon cops are assholes.

We did finally make it home, without any other incidents. Except for when my contact fell out as I was driving. But I think you've heard enough. And I've definitely typed enough. So until next time...

PS: Anyone else know what whistle-pigs are? Or is that an Idaho thing?