#TrueStory: Saturday night I had a police escort home (and it wasn't from going 110 in the Ferrari)
I still can't believe in 32 years I have yet to be in handcuffs (recreationally or post being read the Miranda). I thought I had the opportunity on Saturday from an attractive officer, and STILL no dice. All I got was a lousy police escort accompanied by the comment that I was "too pretty to die in a burning car." I had no idea you could concurrently extinguish sexual dominance and a Joan of Ark role playing fantasy.
Here's what happened. Maestro ...
I had a series of "interesting" automotive experiences this past week.
First up, was my Uber driver on Wednesday morning.
I had an early morning flight out of LAX, and a meeting immediately upon arrival, which meant despite the wee hours I was very composed.
I placed my bag in the back, as I hopped in the Nissan Altima.
"Jen?" he asked greeting.
"Yup," I said confirming the correct Uber.
As he proceeded to pull away from the curb, he noted that he didn't have the tag that allows him to drop off at the airport. Before I could think about ordering another Uber, he turned around and said, "Don't worry though. For you, I'll risk the ticket."
Done, I thought looking down at the screen ready to X out and catch up on headlines before my flight.
Before I had time to flip out of the app, I stared down at the photo for the driver's account. The person who had just turned around was VERY different than the photo registered with the account. The car, and license plate were the same, but the face looked like some Travolta/ Cage trickery.
Realizing I am now in a car with an unaccounted driver who either borrowed, rented or stole this Nissan Altima did not exactly give me warm fuzzies.
I quickly snapped a stalker style photo as I assessed the situation ...
If I elected an excuse to get out of the car, I could risk being in actual danger (in the form of the driver flipping the eff out - which has happened previously. I had the lack of airport license on my side, but I had already admitted to not having a problem with it.).
Also, considering it was 4am, if he did flip out, would I have any witnesses? If I ran, would I be able to out run him? Am I willing to even risk these variables?
Heading to the airport meant that I had left my pepper spray at home, so I placed my right hand on the lock (preventing him from engaging the child proof capability) as I got on the phone exercising my Philbin "phone a friend" lifeline.
I called my parents and activated our family "code."
Obviously, I'm not going to say what it is, but growing up, if we were ever in danger we would say this sentence that would make PERFECT sense to anyone except the members of the family. It's as innocuous as "I forgot to tell you, I stubbed my toe" without literally being, "I forgot to tell you, I stubbed my toe."
My mom answered her phone (she responds faster than my father), first wondering why the hell I was calling her at 4am my time, and secondly, asking why the hell I was calling to tell her I stubbed my toe.
"Jen, why are you calling to tell me you stubbed your toe," she asked in confusion?
"Yup," I said completely ignoring her, "I'm fine for now. I think I might need to go and see a podiatrist, but we'll have to see how everything goes." (Indicating that I wasn't immediately in danger, but was scared enough to find it necessary to call.)
"WHAT.ARE.YOU.TALKING.ABOUT?" she asked louder.
My father, who was in the background, caught onto what I was doing (I can't blame her it had been 15 years since we last activated our bat signal) and he immediately started guiding her with questions I could answer that would also help provide details on the situation.
"I'm in an uber now on the way to the airport, I admitted. Last night I stayed at Tom's place. (Tom is my improv imaginary boyfriend that also alleviated this guy knowing where I actually lived.)"
"How was it," she asked?
"Great! I said. I can't wait to bring him to Michael's graduation in a few weeks. I'm so proud of him being a second lieutenant in the military. I still can't believe he was tazed and pepper sprayed this month. Amazing the survival the human body can endure." (Threw that in because one it's true - sans the date, and two, having a bad ass big brother was scary enough for the playground when we were kids. In this situation I was willing to repeat the play!)
A very long (and mentally exhausting) 45 minutes later we arrived at the airport, parental units still on the line and my right paw still casually placed holding the lock. I thanked him for the ride, and as I opened the door at the curb, he fully turned around again (not that I needed another confirmation of his Tom foolery) and said "I really liked overhearing your conversation."
"Thanks!" I said with a smile and a fake laugh closing the door, popping into the first terminal entrance I saw exhaling.
Confused, I asked my mom if what he said was some kind of threat.
"I don't think so, she said. I think he was really just enjoying our improv storytelling."
Whatever floats your boat, I thought thanking them profusely for the help.
<tangent> Bee tee dubs, they have a device you can put on your keychain that lets you break a window with a quick click, and free yourself from a seatbelt. I'm not affiliated to them in anyway, but have since purchased one.
I'm hoping to never have to use it, but in the meantime, I enjoy stacking decks in my favor.
Fortunately, the rest of the day was calmer, but Saturday was a horse of a different color.
Saturday morning, I woke up in my gf's son's bed, and swapped out my sombrero for a Kentucky derby style hat.
<tangent> I went back down to the Keys to support my gf's business. She and her husband own Plantation Boat Mart, and every year they throw an annual event for the community. This year it happened to fall on Cinco De Mayo, and as my gf and I were getting ready to leave, we were stopped by a 20-something inquiring about the location of the next party.
In the mood to fuck with someone, I responded with "we're having a sleep over. We're going to wear super cute pajamas and have a tickle party."
His jaw dropped (thinking I was serious), as he asked if he could come.
"No," I said, "but if you give me your sombrero I'll give you my actual number."
His eyes lit up like Christmas tree, as he quickly reached into his back pocket to find his phone.
"I can't find it," he said. "I must have left it on the picnic table."
"Not my problem," I said without skipping a beat. "The hat," I pointed. "Gimme."
He then took it off from around his neck, and I proudly placed it on my head as I got in my gf's car to head to her house to sleep (and not with each other, sorry guys!). </tangent>
The next morning, I headed back up to Miami and borrowed my parent's convertible to pick up the founder of my company (shameless plug: dropinauto.com) to head over to Sanibel for the Champions 4 Children SWFL Kentucky derby event. Their event provides backpacks filled with food for kids on the weekend (who receive lunch aide during the week).
En route, we stopped off at Louis Vuitton to purchase a backpack (for their silent auction).
As I put in the navigation the address for the event, he said, "next stop is in Brickell."
"Why are we going to Brickell," I asked?
"To pick up the Ferrari," he said.
"Oh, I said, you don't want to just take this car?"
He smiled, saying "which would you rather take?"
Moments later we swapped out the convertible for the Ferrari - this was not a difficult decision.
Before we hit alligator alley (the road that goes across the state of Florida on the southern tip), we stopped off at a McDonalds to use the restroom and grab some food. As we were pulling into the parking lot, the founder asked if I would like to drive.
"I'd like to cross 'drive a Ferrari' off my life list, so yes," I said excited.
Last July, in my ::cough cough dreams:: I had driven a 2016 Lamborghini Huracan Lp610- 4 Spyder ...
... so, I've gotten over the fear of driving a vehicle that costs as much as the house I grew up in. It will be an adjustment in the beginning, I thought, but having driven across alligator alley more times than I care to admit, I felt comfortable enough to give it a shot.
It took a minute to get used to the seat positioning, and sheer horsepower underneath my Steve Madden stilettos.
I laughed @ the appropriateness of heading to a Kentucky Derby party in a car adorned with a prancing horse logo.
As I pulled onto the alley, I realized to enhance this life experience, I need the proper playlist, and specifically one song & one song only ...
Pedal to the actual metal, I stopped paying attention to numbers as I crossed the 110 mark. (We were also using waze so I knew where certain cops were. Sure, it was a gamble, but I viewed it as a calculated risk.) Plus, if I REALLY wanted to escape the cops, I COULD theoretically outrun them in this car. Sure, it would turn into some Gone in 60 Seconds style driving for which I am COMPLETELY unqualified for ...
... but it still felt really really good going really really fast.
We arrived at the event a little over two hours later, and it was unbelievably impressive how much money they were able to raise, and how much of an impact it has locally on the community.
Please. Support. This. Charity. Have a looksie here.
Due to not killing us the first time, the founder asked again if I wanted to drive - which was absolutely the easiest decision I have made in a long time.
Hours later, I dropped the founder and the Ferrari off, as I grabbed my parents' car to head home. As I pulled off the highway, I noticed an indicator on the dashboard. It was the same one I saw in my car a few weeks back when I got a flat tire in my little station wagon.
This is no bueno, I thought.
I looked down at navigation and I had 2.5 miles to go. On most flat tires you have a little bit you can drive, so I was willing to take the gamble.
One mile into my educated guess, I felt the car "flop" for lack of a better word as the tire was NO DOUBT completely flat. Not wanting to damage the car, I called my father (at 11pm) asking if it was safe to still drive; I apologized for waking him.
"We have run flat tires on the BMW. You can drive it for days and still be fine. Your tire can't actually be flat."
Knowing what I felt, I said it was definitely flat, but I didn't want to get out of the car to look due to my very fancy attention getting outfit.
I continued to drive down side streets with the flashers on, and as I crossed the only major street, I saw a cop immediately flip around shining his spotlight.
Well, here comes a new life experience, I thought. Seeing that I was driving with flashers on, in a fancy outfit, late at night, I assumed I would be stopped for a DUI check.
Man, I thought, I'm crossing a lot off my life list today.
"Hi officer," I said rolling down the window.
"You can't drive on that," he said getting out of his car.
"I'm literally going .3 miles," I said showing him my navigation.
"Look at how bad this is," he instructed as I got out of the car.
"Wow," I said dropping my jaw yet again.
"The car could catch fire, he said. I can't let you drive it."
I then called my father explaining what was happening with his car, and asked if he wanted to tow it. He arrived on the scene moments later.
"This is my vehicle," he said to the officer, and "our house is right there" - he said pointing literally .3 miles away.
"I feel comfortable letting you drive the car home, she's too pretty to die in a burning car."
We all laughed getting in our respected vehicles.
My father drove first, with the officer following close behind.
I laughed as we passed one of those "speed radar" signs indicating we were going 7mph. Considering I was the one that got us in this mess, I refrained from taking a photo, but that didn't mean that I couldn't stop laughing about it ... quietly ... to myself.
The officer was super nice, and waited until the gates to my parents' house closed as we waved our new friend goodbye.
I laughed to both of my parents saying out of the (almost) five hours I spent driving today, it was in the FIFTEEN MINUTES it took to get home to wind up with a flat tire.
"When you do something, you do it right daughter. I drove for months on our last run-flat tire."
Another day, another story for the neighbors ...