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Take Two

Shortly after moving to North Carolina, I got pulled over for speeding … allegedly. Actually, I think the real infraction was being from “up north.” Whatever. The thing is, six days later, the very same cop, on the very same road, pulled me over again. He was about to go into his speech when I cut him off.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, removing his mirror glasses as if the action would enhance his hearing.

“Are you my personal police officer?”

No smile. No smirk. Nothing. I figured he’d simply forgot our previous altercation. That is, until he returned to the car with my ticket.

“Here you go. Just sign right there, Mr. Wise Ass.”

I signed as requested … exactly as requested, which in retrospect was not a smart decision. Turns out in North Carolina you have to go before the judge to plead down the infraction. Having a bailiff announce you as Mr. Ass in a room full of felons is never a good thing.