This morning started out on the wrong foot. I was tooling along on the Katy Toll Road, running with traffic. Once we filtered off the toll road to merge onto the Katy I saw a Houston City Police car on the left side shoulder. When he put his foot on the break, I knew he was going to pull out and I knew I was going to get a ticket; my car was the most expensive car in the grouping. I was right. When I pulled over to the left shoulder, he followed me and pulled in behind me. Great.
Something that really bugs me about life in the big city is that there are no such things as warnings and the police generally don’t care and are unsympathetic. Now, I’m not saying that I wasn’t speeding. I was. But, I also took care to position my vehicle so the officer was protected. I turned on the interior lights of the car on so he could see my activity and I told him before I reached for my purse that I was going to stick my hand in there… all things that help a police feel moderately safe in a traffic stop. I was friendly, cheerful, respectful and most importantly I didn’t try any histrionics to get out of the ticket. And for all that… I got a ticket that wasn’t reduced in any way and a terse explanation of how I can pay my ticket or where to go if I want to fight it.
I have no intention of fighting the ticket. I was speeding, after all. It just would have been nice not to get one or to have the officer just give a warning. But, I’ve come to believe that warnings don’t happen in the Big City, either. At least, they don’t to slightly chubby blondes driving a Mercedes Benz GLK 350.