Hello, My Name Is ...

Another chapter on my exploits as a driver. I drive over 35,000 a year, so fair deal of life is spent on the road, behind the wheel, in front of the police car ...

Until recently I’ve had intermittent troubles with the legal system, but only surrounding issues of driving or my driver’s license. My biggest ticket offenders were car accidents that I got into in my late teens and into my early 20’s. One accident was serious and luckily nobody was badly injured. That incident involved taking my terminally ill cat to the vet. I had never been to this veterinary hospital and missed it, so I needed to turn around and back track. As I made a left hand turn my cat began retching in the front seat. I started tending to my cat and when I looked up I realized I was still turning left. I was face to face with a screaming woman, who remained screaming long after we collided. She showed up to court two months later in a neck brace, I was half expecting her to still scream in the courtroom. I had just begun making my left turn when I hit her and had to be going 10 mph, tops. Both cars were physically damaged, the woman was emotionally damaged (though I wondered if she was so before the accident), and the cat later died due to her illness.

That was pretty much the worst of it. No driving under the influence tickets, no vehicular homicides. Well there was one vehicular homicide but it wasn’t my fault. I accidentally killed a wild boar while driving through Western North Carolina once. Have to love driving in the sticks. Who hits a wild boar these days? I actually stopped for that one, as it’s not every day one sees a wild boar, let alone a dead one alongside interstate 40. My friend and I gawked and conversed about the proper disposal of such a creature. Do you leave it there for the state disposal unit to take care of? Do you throw it in the trunk and have pork for the next few weeks? We decided to let it stay and let motorists have a rare glimpse of pork road kill.

My driver’s abstract is approximately four pages long and riddled with the mundane: speeding, failure to yield, driving while suspended, speeding, parking tickets, speeding, not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign, speeding, and my personal favorite, toll evasion. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the pattern here; I’m a rebel without a cause. Being such, I never pay my tickets on time. As a matter of fact, as I am writing this, I have a parking ticket 2nd notice sitting at my desk. In my home state, that’s o.k., because they’ll send you 2nd notice saying “you failed to pay your ticket on time dummy, now its $10 more and you better pay up by such and such a date. If you do not pay the ticket by this date: 1) A warrant may be issued for your arrest; 2) your driving privileges may be revoked; and/or 3) you may be found in contempt of court and additional penalties will be entered against you.” That’s when I pay the bill. I’m not a totally antisocial; I’m mostly just a hopeful rebel. I hope they forgot, or somehow lost, my paperwork. The 2nd notice shatters my hopes and tells me to pay the bill. The courts never forget but I’m just the eternal optimist that some day they will.

The strategy of not paying fines has backfired on me, on more than one occasion. When I went to get my master’s degree, I moved to Western North Carolina. Not being from the area, I did not know the local rules and legal etiquette of tickets and fines. It only took me one month living and driving to attract the police in North Carolina.

North Carolina driving actually takes some getting used to, as it’s a much different style than driving where I live. I live in the Northeast, and the closer one lives to New York City, the more aggressive one’s driving gets. The rules of the road where I live are the following:

1. If I weigh more than you, I win. Pedestrians equal bottom of the vehicular food chain. Sure there’s that ‘State Law’ that states you must yield to pedestrians, but that usually only applies if one has a conscious, or if the police are visible.

2. If my car is older/less expensive than yours, I win. In situations which call for common courtesy, 7 out of 10 times common courtesy does not prevail and you have to rely on this motto. Most common examples of this are merging traffic, lane changes, etc. When people will not display common courtesy, then you have to size up the car, 1990 hooptee, they win! 2007 Lexus whatever, HA HA, I win! Big a*s new truck, that’s a tough call because it bridges rule 1 and rule 2, so it’s really a judgment call on your part. That’s when you have size up the driver and analyze how crazy they look.

I quickly discovered these are not the rules of the road in Western North Carolina. People actually exhibit common courtesy as a standard practice, not as an unlikely option. In North Carolina they will ALWAYS yield to a pedestrian. Not only that, but they will sometimes yield to a pedestrian on the other side of a 4 lane highway, WITH a grass median! That was almost accident number one for me; I mean who does that s**t? You’re 200 pounds; I’m 2,000 I win for goodness sake. Let alone you’re 200 pounds ALL the way over on the other side of the highway.

They’re also very friendly in North Carolina, even in their cars. People in North Carolina actually wave to you as they pass you by. This took me a while to get used to that custom. The only hand signal I’m used to are those ones that inform you that the other person either wants to beat you up, f**k you, or let you know you’re a jerk off.

But as casual and user friendly as the people are in North Carolina, the legal system is quite the opposite. I discovered the hard way that they don’t treat unpaid speeding tickets quite the same way I’m used to. In North Carolina, instead of a 2nd notice, they send the local Sheriff … on a Sunday.

So … I’m driving in the back of the Sheriff’s car talking about radar detectors and educating the deputy Sheriff on the proper use of said devices. She seemed to be under the impression that police radar has a longer range than radar detector’s, and I educated her that all you need is one car in front of you and you’re fine. The radar will pick up that car first; I’ll detect, and be protected. Another officer of the law educated on the proper use of state equipment by an arrogant 23 year old. Not quite the working definition of subtlety and humility, and not really the best approach when playing visitor in the home field.

In North Carolina, when the Sheriff arrests you, it’s not going to be a simple ‘pay the fine and leave’ scenario. You can be released … by the judge … who’s been called away from deer hunting in order to deal with yours truly. This little fact gave me about 2 hours to think about how my demeanor should be, as the Judge was in no rush to come and see me. I didn’t expect him to be as pissed as he was, though now looking back on it, I can understand why he was. Nothing worked; humility was interpreted as northern arrogance, reverence was irreverence, silence was disrespect. I know I didn’t want to go to jail, which he often reminded me was his leading option.

I thought I would gain some ground with him by being truthful and telling him how the system work at home, and thus explaining why I didn’t pay the ticket. This was a horrible mistake.

“Oh, so you regularly thumb your nose at the legal system in multiple states?”

I determined this was not the time to correct his English regarding the use of the word ‘multiple’ to denote two states. I was at least smart enough to hold back on that little gem of a factoid.

I was finally able to get through that incident by immediately paying the fine after receiving long lectures and pitiful stares. This also straightened me out during the rest of my time in North Carolina, as southern justice and southern jails were strong motivations to stay on the straight and narrow.

I came back home a free man and having a new found respect for the judicial system. As time went on, I found that my respect was only for the North Carolina judicial system. I quickly returned to my old ways, paying off tickets only when I received a 2nd notice. My 2nd notice ticket paying became sloppy. I missed paying something, either a ticket, or an insurance surcharge (a special thing one gets when accumulating enough points on their driver’s license). This nonpayment of whatever caused a temporary suspension of my license, a notice I guess I got and ignored. However, I’m convinced I never received a notice because something of that magnitude would usually spark me into action. After getting my license revoked unknowingly, I got another ticket and upon paying that ticket I received notice that my license was suspended for 6 more months.

I wish I could write this off to youthful indiscretion, but we are now fast forwarding 10 years from my trip in the Sheriff’s car. I was 33 years old, a father of 1 and my wife was pregnant with our 2nd child. I did what I had to do in order to survive these times. Top on that survival list was not telling my wife. My wife is an Italian worrier, and having to survive 6 months with me ‘on the lamb’ would have been too much for her to handle … I decided. So for the sake of my future son, I didn’t tell my wife about it until after his birth. She was expectantly very pissed at the time I told her, but I stand by this decision. I firmly believe the reason my son is happy and well adjusted today is because my wife didn’t constantly worry about me when she was pregnant with him.

However, this wasn’t my last, or worst, motor vehicle deception with my wife. For the longest time in our marriage I drove the car registered in her name, and she drove the car registered in my name. This first occurred when we first got married as she got the new car and I got to drive her car … sounds fair, eh? She always got the new car, and it wasn’t until about 8 years into our marriage that, I guess, I earned the right to a new car. I must have been extra good that year. Most likely it was my wife seeing this as the way to finally get me driving a car registered under my own name.

The incident leading to my worst motor vehicle indiscretion (indiscretion is such a nicer word than crime) occurred due to my ongoing diagnosed case of Oppositional Defiant Disorder. I used to not pay tolls on toll roads that allowed such behavior (i.e., exact change lanes). I live in a state that has more than one toll road and I personally feel the state doesn't need all that money to upkeep those roads. I’ve calculated that they make at least 1.5 million dollars a day in tolls alone. It was time for somebody to take a stand, and I’m just that person. It was also in my financial best interest not to pay as I travel a lot, and at that time dished out over $700 a year in tolls.

They try to scare you, the toll ogres, with signs at the toll booths warning dire consequences of toll evasion of “up to $240 fine per offense”. Bullshit. The reality is that it is only $42 per ticket, even after multiple offenses of toll evasion on your record. It is also not a moving violation so there are no points attached to your driver’s license.

My usual modus operandi went like this:

1. As you approach the toll, put the proper amount of toll money in your hand. This is essential for successful toll evasion, because you may have to pay the toll.

2. Roll down the window. Toll evasion aficionados may say I’m being too careful here, I think not. “Just blow through the toll like a man!” they’d decry. I believe in a covering your a*s (CYA) mindset. To give you an example of this mindset, I’ll take you back to when I was 18 years old. I was with 3 other friends (including one girl I wanted to f**k), we were all high, and suddenly my one friend decided it would be funny if he snuck away, undressed and streaked around the house. This led to everyone, one by one, disrobing and streaking. There was a torrential downpour going on, and it was late at night, so it was very quiet outside. Not thrilled at this prospect, but after seeing the girl I wanted disrobed actually disrobed, I was left with no other manly choice. I streaked, but I carried my underwear in my hand … just in case. CYA. It turned out to be the right decision because we decided to go out to the main highway and wave at oncoming traffic, and the police was one of those oncoming cars. This led to a naked marathon run through my town, and I knew if was caught, I’d be going to the precinct with what I had on as part of my punishment. Luckily I hid in a church until they left. Been fairly spiritual ever since. But if I was caught, I’d be the only one brought in to the police station with clothes on.

3. As you approach the toll, scan the toll booth thoroughly for signs of human life. A toll collector, a police officer, whatever.

4. If the answer to number three is “human life form detected”, then proceed to pay toll.

5. If the answer to number three is “no humanoid presence”, then switch money to your right hand, fake throw money with your left, hesitate as if you’re waiting for the ‘toll paid’ sign to appear, then drive away at a normal pace. Don’t honk your horn, protesting to some unknown authority that you were robbed of your ‘toll paid’ reward. That will only attract unwanted attention to you.

Between a ticket or two I would get each year, and the money I ended up throwing because somebody was in the toll booth, I would pay about $150 per year. That’s a savings of $550! WOOHOO!! … What a rebel.

Well one day, one of those tricky toll evasion tickets came my way and I did what I normally do, and unfortunately still do, I put the ticket in the backseat of my car. Unfortunately I put most things in the backseat of my car; garbage, old sheets of paper with driving instructions on them, books, work related stuff, small children, you know, the usual. I’ve never lost a small child, but certainly have forgotten a ticket or four. Remember, this is an o.k. thing to do in my home state, because municipal courts are nice enough to send out a 2nd notice. In this case though, I took the 2nd notice and gave it the same treatment as the first. So now I have both an ignored toll evasion notice, and an ignored follow up warning notice.

It was a sunny, warm spring Saturday. It was at the beginning of my marriage before we had children. We ate when we wanted to eat, we had sex in the morning and in whichever room suited the mood, we woke up late, showered late, you know, we had fun and enjoyed ourselves. I was about 28 years old at the time. It was about 12 noon when I finally moseyed on out to the mailbox, unkempt and carefree. I did a very rare thing; I opened up mail addressed to my wife. I was still out by the mailbox, but the outside of the letter startled me. It was a letter from our municipal court. I can’t imagine why my wife would get such a letter; actually I can’t imagine my wife getting a letter from any municipal court. She is as clean cut and law abiding as anyone I have ever met in my life. I immediately knew the answer behind the envelope before opening it; it was really me they wanted.

The letter was opened right there and then, only to reveal its ugly truth:
                
May 15, 1996
                
Ms. Annunziata Lifeson

A warrant has been issued for your arrest for contempt of court. This is due to continued non-compliance of court ticket MN052112-39A. Please immediately turn yourself in to our police station to pay bail for this ticket.

The rest went something like this, I’m not really sure because at this point I’m in a complete panic attack from the above.

Failure to comply within 10 days of this notice date will result in us hunting down your a*s at work, handcuffing you, and hauling your sorry self off in front of your coworkers.

It obviously didn’t say that, but it might as well have, because that’s all I could imagine happening to my wife. My next panic point was in how I could resolve this crisis. The obvious choice, and first one to strike me, would be to go directly to my wife. This would involve a big confession, leading to being lectured … repeatedly and heatedly (for months if not years), and not getting laid for at least 6-8 weeks. I hope this last sentence captures part of the anxiety, panic and complete disdain for that option.

As that first option, and its impending consequences, perseverated in my head, option two started to formulate. My wife, as you have seen, has a very unusual Italian name … Annunziata. Annunziata is Italian for Nancy. What flat foot is going to know that?! I repeat the name in my head, Annunziata, Annunziata … Annunziata. With each repetition my master plan becomes more formulated and more plausible. Only an Italian would know that Annunziata means Nancy, and only an Italian fluent in Italian (or with a grandmother with the same name). Also the person would have to be versed in Italian tenses for female and male words. Being a male, my name would more likely, not always, end in an ‘o’. Angelo is a male name, Angela is female.

Then I started feeling guilty. I shouldn’t lie, especially to my wife. This internal struggle between doing what is right or being deceptive lasted a few minutes until I finally came to a resolution.

I went right to my wife and decided I would tell her the truth … that I was going out to get my oil changed. Well I WAS! … Right after I, Annunziata Lifeson, turned myself in to the police and paid the fine. The way I figured, I would go in to the police station, write a check, apologize, and leave as quickly as humanly possible. Problem solved. I’m happy, my wife remains blissfully ignorant of the whole debacle, and it’s a win/win all around. I’m banking on the fact that there will be no chance an officer will say “Your mother named you Nancy?”

I was right. I went into the police station, showed them the paperwork and whipped out my checkbook. After giving the officer a check for $81, he informed me that I was paying off the ticket per se, but actually making bail. It was at that point that I knew I wasn’t finished.

“Thank you for posting bail Mr. Lifeson,” the very polite officer said. “Since there was a warrant for your arrest, as per procedure I have to book you.”

“Book me?!”

In my life I’ve done many things, many things for which I could have been booked, but I’ve been fortunate enough to avoid that … until now. And if we want to get technical about, I still haven’t been booked to this day. Given my past arrest experience, my imagination of what comes next goes something like: mug shot, fingerprinting, handcuffing, no probably handcuffing first, strip search, cavity check. My anxiety immediately spikes and I am imagining that my one phone call I will get goes something like “Hi? Honey? …”

So when I am losing control of a situation, the way I feel in control is by gaining as much information as possible. Information is power in my world.

“Book me?!” I repeat again, since the first time didn’t yield any information.

“Yes sir, its procedure.”

“What does that ‘procedure’ entail?”

“Since there was a warrant for your arrest, and since you turned yourself in and plead guilty by posting bail, I need to do the booking procedure.”

All I could think was two things: 1) oh s**t; and 2) thank God this is NOT my wife right now. If this was my wife, I would have had to develop a better relationship with internet porn. A third thought suddenly flooded me; ‘this all seems very official, he’s going to ask you for some I.D.’

“I need to see some form of I.D. sir.”

S**T!! S**t s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t!

“I don’t have any on me.”

“You don’t have any I.D.? Didn’t you drive here sir?”

“Yes sir.”

“So you drove without your driver’s license?”

Mentally repeat the s**t line from above. If this were a game of chess, I would not be winning.
“Yes sir. I’m very sorry, I panicked when I opened the letter and I immediately got into the car and drove here.”

“But you remembered the checkbook.”

“Yes sir, it’s the only thing I grabbed since the letter stated I would need to pay this off.”

So I just narrowly escaped a check mate, but I’m not out of trouble yet.

“Is your registration and insurance in your car?”

CHECK

“Yes sir.”

“Good, then we can use that as a form of I.D.”

F**k this guy is thorough. Part of me is glad my local tax dollars are not going to waste at Dunkin Donuts, but the other part is panicked.

“The insurance and registration is in my wife’s name.”

I have done the unlikely in chess, I’ve not only moved myself out of check, but I’ve put him check with the same move. Time to secure this game of chess in my favor, but not be overconfident.

“Again, I’m sorry but I really panicked when I opened the letter and came right over.”

He looked at me, and you could tell he was sizing up my story. He’s an expert at this because he gets fed every known lie in the book when people are trying to wiggle out of something. Was I a lying sack of s**t with a bullshit story? Was I just a freaked out, generally law abiding citizen trying to immediately correct a horrible oversight. The actual answer was yes to both, however, I did everything I could to exude the latter.

“O.K., sir, I will need you stand here,” motioning me in front of a camera with my back to a blank blue wall. “I need you to take your baseball cap off and hold this sign.” I had 2 baseball caps I was deciding on before I left. One cap was an old state police hat I had. I decided against that one, thinking it was a bit over the top. It screamed, “look at me, I’m a good guy, see! I LOVE the police … SEE!”

“Do I have to take off my hat? As I said before I panicked, came right over and I haven’t showered.”

That was the truth. Not only am I getting a mug shot as ‘Annunziata Lifeson’, but I’m un-showered, with next morning hair matted down by an old baseball and likely gobs of sweat. I’m sure that picture has me looking guilty of a crime much greater than the one I’m being photographed for, likely serial killer or arsonist. I could imagine the byline that would accompany this picture:

“In other news, Annunziata Lifeson, pictured here, has recently escaped from the state psychiatric facility for the criminally insane. Police warn citizens to use extreme caution as the escaped prisoner is considered to be psychiatrically unstable and extremely dangerous.”

“Please hold that to your chest. Face me. O.K., please turn your face to your right. O.K, hold there … done.”

Handing my name and serial number back to the officer one thought came to me and I had to ask.

“Any chance I could get a copy of that?”

For me that would be the crown jewel of all pictures. I would frame it and put it in my game room or home office. It would be the talking piece and final destination of all home tours I would give. Two problems with that theory: 1) how would I explain that picture to my wife; and 2):

“No sir, sorry.”

“I thought those things were public domain, I see them on the news all the time.”

“You would have to contact the office of the police chief during normal working hours.”

I knew then that procuring this picture would involve things like signing proper documents and showing identification. All things I could not do. The officer then informed me that I would not need to be fingerprinted as this was not a crime that required such. I was then told I was free to go, and given a short lecture on paying bills on time and coming to the police station with proper I.D.

I went home assured of my victory, buffeted by my performance, and positive that all avenues were covered.

Six Months Later

“Alex, what is this?!”

“What hon?” as she shoves a piece of paper in face in a way that says ‘I’m f*****g pissed.’
        
Ms. Annunziata Lifeson

This letter is to inform you that subsequent to your posting bail for ticket number MN052112-39A; your license has been restored as of November 16, 1995.
        
“My license was … SUSPENDED?!” (Pregnant pause) “I POSTED BAIL!!?!”
        
“There’s really a funny story behind that (looking at her), that you obviously won’t find funny right now. But years from now, this will be a real yuck fest …”

Reviews

[Kadie Tee]

D****t, I didn't find the Rush reference. I was looking for something from either Test for Echo or Driven, but now I'm disappointed that I didn't find it. :(

It was a funny story though... I like how you had the balls to take on your wife's name to avoid a beating from her, and that you'd even have the balls in the first place to do all of that stuff on the road, hahaha.

Tell me what the reference is haha, I was all pumped thinking I'd spot it in no time... d****t.

[JC]

I always say the best stories come from real life experiences..

I laughed my way through the whole piece, being a rebel myself. So far I have given a "donation" to two different police departments this year.

Best piece I have read all night, hands down!

JC

[Fantasyfairy]

hahaha. This is so funny. I wonder if your wife sees the funny side of it now? Such a naughty rebel you are. I love the toll avoidance too. Great and funny story hun. XX

[Shanna Wynne]

Now that is some funny s**t. I've had to make a "Hi..umm... honey?" call before and that sucks a*s!! Then again.. LOL. That's just hilarious!!

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

This is funny.. i like this line .. I LOVE the police.. lol
What a look your wife gave you i bet..

Chloe
xoxo

[Angelheaded Hipster]

2. If my car is older/less expensive than yours, I win. In situations which call for common courtesy, 7 out of 10 times common courtesy does not prevail and you have to rely on this motto. Most common examples of this are merging traffic, lane changes, etc. When people will not display common courtesy, then you have to size up the car, 1990 hooptee, they win! 2007 Lexus whatever, HA HA, I win! Big a*s new truck, that�s a tough call because it bridges rule 1 and rule 2, so it�s really a judgment call on your part. That�s when you have size up the driver and make a judgment on how crazy they look.[/blockquote]

Dude, I had a tempo....and I ALWAYS won when I was driving it....ghttolicious car that it was....

I was 33 years old, a father of 1 and my wife was pregnant with out 2nd child. (our)

�Do I have to take off my hat? As I said before I panicked, came right over and I haven�t showered.� *LMAO* Hey, at least you don't look like Nick Nolte....his mug shot is priceless!!


Mwahahaha....your wife should never let you behind the wheel....ever, and you can tell her I said that.