Last week's blog got me thinking about a recent funny experience.
I was pulled over for speeding through BYU campus the other day. Seeing those blue-and-red flashing lights in the rear view mirror conjures up one of the most gut-sinking feelings on the planet.
A husky figure got out of his tailgating patrol car, and from my mirror, I watched him adjust his sunglasses as he prepped himself to deliver the standard lecture.
"License and registration, son."
As if being pulled over is not humiliating enough, he assumed an overbearing fatherly disposition to put me in my place.
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
I sat there thinking snidely ... Fast enough to get your attention.
Knowing better than to mouth off, I politely responded, "It was a little too fast. I apologize, officer."
After gathering my effects, he moseyed back to his squad car, still flashing lights in a blaze of glory. The victor was waving his banner for all to see as he basked in the grandeur of his afternoon kill.
Five minutes later, the conversation became interesting.
He loomed over the driver's side window and asked, "Are you related to THE Osmonds?"
Hmmm, do I lie and get this over with, or ...
"Yes, I am."
"Really? Can you get me an autographed picture of Marie?"
I considered this an opportunity to barter my way out of getting a ticket, but knew the officer wouldn't budge.
He kept me there for a solid 15 minutes where I answered trivial questions about purple socks, white teeth and puppy love.
That afternoon, we both left the side of the road disappointed; me with my ticket, the officer without an autograph.
He wasn't seriously thinking about scoring an autograph, was he?