Eve of Thrillerfest

I’m in NYC, awaiting my first day of Thrillerfest. Flight was delayed four hours and my room is non-smoking. The nerve! But my savior, in the form of a twin-tailed siren, is staring at me from across the street.

In my rush to get here, my husband reminds me that my tags are expired. I’ve been distracted. Some things have been sliding.

“Don’t speed,” he says.

“Would I do that?” I pull out of the driveway.

Here comes the flashing lights. Damn. I know those are not for me.

“License and registration,” says the pudgy cop. “You realize you were speeding and your tags are expired?”

Feigned jaw drop. “Oh no! I had no idea.” I proceed to babble some nonsense about being busy and important.

“Zombie Killer?” he asks and thrusts his chin at my rear bumper. (Yeah, I know none of you are surprised by my choice of decals. Zombie Killer looks damn good on my Wrangler, though.)

“Oh, why yes. I write about zombie killers.” I push back my shoulders. “I am, in fact, on my way to NYC to find an agent to sell my novel.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Oh yeah?”

So I give him the two minute book pitch I’d been practicing.

He smiles. “That sounds neat. I write too,” he says. “Masters in criminology stuff. The publishing industry is hard. I sympathize with you…”

I tune out. I’m too occupied with mental fist pumping. Oh hell yeah, I’m sooo getting out of this ticket.

He trots his happy ass back to his patrol car. A few minutes later, he returns. “Good luck with your book,” he says and hands me my ticket.

My shoulders slump. I guess I’ll be working on that pitch.

(Joe…this post is for you. You made me do it.)

8 Replies to “Eve of Thrillerfest”

  • HA! That sucks, I guess, but it’s funny because it didn’t happen to me! ;^)

    I’ve actually gotten out of my last two speeding tickets. I’m kind of surprised he didn’t let you go, though. Maybe you should have chatted him up a bit more? Some eyelash batting, perhaps? LOL!

    Best of luck in the non-smoking hotel. Slurp much caffeine, and give us daily reports on how the ‘fest goes. I’m curious as to whether those things are worth the time and effort.

    And thanks for the post. I feel all special. Warm and fuzzy inside, even.


      • Oh yeah, I’m *real* cute…

        No, I have an “Army Dad” sticker on the back of my truck. My son gave me a set of his dog tags that I have hanging on my rear view mirror. I discovered accidentally that those two things, combined with straight up honesty, gets me pretty far.

        “Mr. Jansen, do you know what the speed limit is through here?”

        “45 miles per hour, sir”

        “And do you know how fast you were going?”

        “Right about 60, sir.”

        “Wait here…”

        Couple minutes later he hands me a warning and I am on my way. Likewise for the “80 in a 60 while cutting across two lanes to get around someone, then cutting two lanes back to be in front of them so I can flip them off” maneuver that was apparently unpopular with tho unmarked patrol car behind me.

        My son makes sure that his driver’s license is behind his military ID so that it “accidentally” falls out when he pulls out his license. That’s gotten him out of a lot of speeding tickets, apparently.


        Part angry parent for him speeding so much, part jealousy. Oh well.

        -bat- -bat- -bat-


  • You really got a ticket? That sucks! I told a cop once I was speeding because I was starving to death. He laughed, a deep one that shook his belly. I guess we almost spoke the same language because he pretended not to notice I was going 10+ over the speed limit, which would have jumped my ticket price way up. I still got a ticket, though. 🙁

    Anyway, I’m so excited for you. Do what Joe says and give us daily reports. Start an IV of Starbucks. And shove some zombies down those agents’ throats!

    • Starving to death! LOL!

      I really did get the speeding ticket. He gave me a break on the expired tags, though. I guess that’s something. I used to get out of these things. *sigh*

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