When I arrived at Dania there was a white Honda Civic in the process of getting a ticket from a motorcycle cop in the parking lot. A long cardboard box was sticking out of the trunk, and I figured they were getting a ticket for not having a red flag hanging off of it or something.
As I stood waiting for my chair, a girl from the car came and stood next to me, waiting for something herself. She was probably 18 or 19, and was obviously still ruffled from getting pulled over. After a few deep sighs and some huffing and puffing, she turned to me and said:
“Can you believe that – that cop pulling me over, wasting my tax dollars? I mean really, what a waste. If someone wants to die that’s their own business. If I choose to not wear a seatbelt, it’s my own business. It’s a waste of tax dollars to pull me over for something that doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
I mulled over that for a moment, not sure if she was looking for me to ally with her insanity, or if she just needed to vent. I was a bit sleep deprived. Carrie gave birth to our new boy on Monday (a story I’ll share soon), and sleep was still in flux. I decided to respond, with a bright and cheerful smile:
“Oh yeah! You know, surely it must cost more to pay that police officer with his fancy motor bike than it does to pay all the highway clean up crews to come and scrape your brains off the pavement with butter knives after you go sailing through the sunroof! They probably just make minimum wage!”
I thought she might punch me in the neck, but instead she just did some more huffing and puffing, and waited for her bookshelf.