10/15/2011 Don't Pass That Smokey Brenda!

I could hear the siren.
I just knew it.
We were being pulled over in the middle of
God Knows Where Texas.
I had been busily studying my flashcards of airport
codes as we crossed Texas on our way to Houston.
I looked up and saw the state trooper car ahead
and noticed Brenda was NOT slowing down.
I yelled, "Don't pass that smokey Brenda!"
I could predict exactly what she would say and I wasn't disappointed.
"He's driving like an old grandma!"
I mean, it was only eight hours ago that the truckers in
Arizona had warned us to slow down in Texas or end up in jail.
You'd think she was from Ballard the way she drives.
So Brenda pulls over and the trooper is a lady.
Next thing I know I'm peering out the back window
of my hot red and black Rally Sport Camaro
and Brenda is standing next to the trooper's car behind
my car and I hear her say loudly, "Would you like a date?"
She is holding out a sack of dates to the trooper and
realizes that might sound funny to a woman.
So she starts laughing really hard.
Then she realizes we might end up in jail and starts sobbing hysterically.
At that point I jumped out of the car and walked back
to see if there was anything I could do, or in Brenda's case, undo.
The trooper looks up at me and I see myself mirrored in her sunglasses.
Brenda and I were wearing matching muu muus, baseball hats
and alphabet shoes.
I see her eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch.
"Where are you girls from?" She asked me frowning.
I told her we were from Seattle on our way to Houston
so I could start flight attendant training the next day.
At this point I'm praying that we don't go to jail.
I had only applied for five years and been rejected
five dozen times before I got hired and I'm thinking,
"This is not happening."
A $160.00 ticket later, we were on our way
and
I was driving.