Yesterday I was “pulled over” – lights and sirens and all – in the parking lot of a Dallas Police station. Yes, it does take talent, but it is a gift.
The boy (as my son shall be called in my posts to avoid publicly humiliating him any more than I already do) and I were en route to his soccer practice with a new team. The practice field was in the crux (don’t know if that is correct use of that word, but let’s just go with it) of several very busy streets in the Dallas area. These were not streets that you could just pull over to the side of without fear of imminent death, but I knew the intersection where the field was and we were told it was right behind a police station. Great – sounds safe at least!
We approach the a fore mentioned intersection and sure enough we see a police station and, as we continue driving, the boy spots soccer goals. The field has been located! Now where to park. We (yes, I’m also implicating the boy in this because I’m not going down alone) decide to turn into the police station parking lot to see if there is some open parking in the back or something we can use.
It is a large parking lot that goes around almost the entire station but as we look we see that all the spaces are numbered and even though many were empty I was not about to park in a police car’s spot. Thus I begin trying to escape this large yet strangely confining lot and call the organizer of the team to find out where to park.
As I am trying to go back the way I came, which was not nearly as easy as it sounds, the boy pipes up that a police officer standing outside is “watching us hard” – whatever that means. I thought he was just trying to rile me so I said “oh sure he is”. Then the boy, sounding a bit more stressed, says, “Oh he is on his radio – I bet he is calling someone to come get us!” Again, I think he is making it up because I’m just driving in a parking lot…..
Then it happens….
In my rear view mirror I see the dreaded red and blue lights quickly followed by a siren. Seriously!?! I am in a parking lot going maybe 2 miles an hour – he could have walked and caught up to me! Were the lights and siren REALLY necessary! Anyway, this large male police office strolls, in the way only a police officer can, up to my door and says, “What’s going on?”
Again, SERIOUSLY?!? How about a – may help you find something or can I help you? – No, he opts for the “What’s going on” like the boy and I are in the midst of some sort of drug deal with a major cartel drug lord. I mean really there was no reason for that tone.
To paint the picture a little better for you let me describe myself for those that don’t know me. I am 5’1″ (and the 1″ is mostly to preserve ego) not very big and at that moment I was wearing a hot pink jogging suit, my hair is pulled up in a scrunchee, and I’m driving a very Mom-ish SUV. I really am not fitting into a career criminal type profile.
After I explain to him that I am looking for the parking for the soccer field he chooses to continue in his “I’m not letting you get away with this you criminal” tone of voice and informs me that there is no parking for that soccer field and that I needed to exit this police only parking lot now. Ok, enough said. So I am heading, slowly out of the lot when the phone rings and it is the soccer guy whose only response to my predicament was, “oh, I should have told you there wasn’t any parking….” Hmmm….you think?!?
Most other mothers that have told me stories of being pulled over by police have talked about how traumatized their kids were by the ordeal – well not mine!!! He thought it was hilarious and just kept laughing. Then, as I am grumbling some possibly un-mom-like thoughts he points at the radio and says, “Look mom!! And that song “Let it go” is on for the 4 billionth time that day and the boy says “Yeah mom. just Let it Go!” As of this writing the boy is amazingly still alive and well….