I Had A Bad Day, and Daniel Powter Didn't Sing About It Either

I had a bad morning yesterday.

Yes, I know my pretty rainbow picture above doesn't really fit that statement, but it's of the military hospital that will feature later in my story. It's one of the funny things about living in Hawaii, you're living in a beautiful tropical environment, so even the bad days look pretty.


Well, I guess it wasn’t THAT bad of a day; everyone is still alive and all. But still…

I had to take the twins in for their two-year-old check-up. Yeah, I know their birthday was a month ago. I didn’t remember to call for an appointment until the day they turned two, and this was the soonest they had at the military hospital here.

I remember when I had that first child and I was so diligent about getting her check-ups as close to her actual birthday as possible. I also disinfected her pacifier every time she dropped it. Things change, okay?

So I was heading up to the military hospital yesterday. It is absolutely HORRIBLE to go there by the way. The place is a giant maze on a hill with not nearly enough parking. I’ve started just going directly to the farthest parking lot from the building and then heading for the grass and packed-dirt field behind it, because that’s always the only parking left. Then there’s the long walk uphill through three parking lots pushing a double stroller, as a lovely prelude to taking two different elevators and heading to the very back of the hospital to reach the pediatric clinic.

So I thought I’d get a diet coke on the way there to fortify myself for this journey. I took the back way instead of the interstate so I could go past the McDonald’s that has $1 any-size drinks. That’s a good deal anywhere, but here in Hawaii it’s particularly good.

So as I cruised along down the four-lane road on my way to McDonald’s, a police car came up behind me with his light flashing. I pulled over slightly to let him pass me, and he pulled up next to me and said to pull over all the way in the grassy area across the street.

I was like, “Me? He’s after ME?”

I pulled over in the grassy area he indicated, which by the way was someone’s YARD. It was a yard full of parked and/or abandoned cars, in front of a house that strongly resembled a doublewide, but still. Do these people not MIND the police giving out tickets right in front of their door? Or maybe they’ve worked out a deal…. hmmmm…

He said I was going fifty miles an hour, while showing me the readout on his radar gun said “50.” Did I mention this was a four-lane highway? I think fifty is pretty okay; I’d figured the speed limit was fifty-five or forty-five.

I asked what the limit was. He said, “Twenty-five.”

I said, “TWENTY-FIVE?! Are you kidding?!”

The policeman was not interested in chatting about this. He took my license and went back to his car.

Baby Girl said, from the back-seat, “Bye-bye!” in her cheerful voice.

I was like, “I WISH, Baby Girl.”

So while he filled out the ticket --of COURSE I was getting a ticket; he wouldn’t spend all that time writing for a warning-- I had plenty of time to berate myself. “You wouldn’t be IN this mess if you didn’t have to get a diet coke,” I told myself. Myself answered defensively, “Oh, so now it’s a CRIME to want a carbonated sugar-free beverage in the morning?”

I did not, as you notice, berate myself for speeding. Because I wasn’t! Who would go twenty-five on a huge highway like this? People were zooming past us like crazy as we sat there. I could hear someone inside the house watching TV. Yes, I was THAT close to these people’s house. I hoped none of the cars I was blocking in were operable. It would really stink if someone came out of the house wanting to go to work and found me there getting a TICKET!

So finally the policeman came back to have me sign the ticket. I signed, even though I wished I had the guts to check the “Refuses to Sign” box and hand it back to him.

He said I could write a letter if I wanted, requesting a court date and telling “my side of the story.” He didn’t actually make air quote marks when he said that, but I could tell he meant them. Then he gave me my copy and left, ready to go stop another one of the poor hapless motorists breezing past us.

Baby Girl said, “Bye bye!” again.

How much was the fine, you ask?

Well, you know how things are more expensive here in Hawaii because everything has to be brought in by boat? Apparently that applies to traffic tickets too. I guess they take up a lot of SPACE on cargo ships!

It was ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-TWO DOLLARS!

Pardon my screaming in all caps. I was having a mini heart attack typing that.

Well, I guess I saved a dollar though, since I didn’t have time to get my diet coke after all that delay.

Whoopee.

At least I made it to the appointment on time. And the twins are perfectly healthy, plus they only needed one shot this time.

So it could have been worse.

But I would have felt a lot better if I could have made the policeman come with me and push my stroller up the hill from the parking lot. While I told him “my side of the story.”

That might have been WORTH the $182!