On the Over-Zealousness of the Arizona State Highway Patrol

OK, so the previous two entries are super serious. This is not what my email updates are known for. Although I will definitely need some of that sober and solemn self-reflection over the next two years, we all know that that isn't all that my life is about; hopefully this entry will break from that mold (or is it mould?) and make y'all smile.

So while I'll save reflections on the amazing, awesome, challenging, yet wonderful roadtrip that led me to this point for another day, let me set the scene:

It's 7:17 PM on last Monday, June 7th, 2010. It's about 107 degrees, and has cooled off from the day's high of 116. I'm driving down US Highway 93 in the Mojave Desert in Yavapai County, Arizona. I'm alone; it's just me and country radio, and it feels like I'm flying down the highway. All I see in front of me is the faint black ribbon of highway stretching for the foreseeable future in front of me, slowly sloping down to the Valley of the Sun and my new home in Phoenix. To my left and right, the beautiful desert stretches as far I can see, painted as if by the hand of God in burnt orange and crimson, the saguaros stretching their arms towards the heavens, yearning for precious sips of rain to fall from the sky. Behind me is Las Vegas, Hoover Dam, my three best friends, and the setting sun.

As you can tell by my (admittedly over-the-top) imagery, it was incredibly peaceful, a wonderful moment for self-reflection.

So while I was busily deciding what effusive adjectives I could use to describe the Mojave to you all and reflecting to myself, I completely lost track of my speed. I do this frequently; I'm known for my erratic, at best, reckless, at worst, driving tendencies. And now that I drive an '07 Highlander and not a '97 MomMobile, this problem has been exacerbated.

So I had no idea I was going upwards of 90 MPH. But nor do I feel like this speed was inappropriate, given the conditions; I challenge anyone traveling in the desert to not speed through it. You just get so caught up in it, and, quite frankly, so damn thirsty, that speed just happens.

While I was caught up in all of this, I flew (my wheels probably did go off the ground for a little bit, considering my speed as I crested the hill behind which Mr. Teacher-Cop was hiding) through the Mojave.

And over the aforementioned hill, waiting for what must have been hours, as I was the only car on the road that Monday, for an out-of-state license plate to pass by, was Mr. Teacher-Cop.

I immediately knew I was fucked. However, I decided to slow down to the (for me) ungodly, but for Arizona, quite natural, speed of 65 MPH (WHO DRIVES THE SPEED LIMIT, WTF?). I'm thinking, maybe I'll fool him, maybe he'll just give me a warning, maybe he didn't see me...all the things I always think, all the things we all think, when we speed by cops.

He follows me for about 4 minutes; I think I'm in the clear.

And just as a breathe a sigh of relief, there go the lights, the sirens, the whole nine.

Damn.

I pull over...portions of the exchange between myself and Mr. Teacher-Cop follow:

"Just so you know, sir, my seatbelt has been fastened for like hours now, I just took it off now."

"Umm...I saw that. So...how fast were you going there?"
"65."

"Well, I gotcha at 90. You know the speed limit's 65 here?"

"I just got real caught up in the desert sir, it's my first time out here, I'm trying to make it to Phoenix before dark, my maintenance light is on..." [I'm grabbing for straws here, pulling out all the stops...]

"Whatcha doin' out in Arizona...Maryland plates, you sure are far from home."

"Actually, I'm moving here...[and here's where I explain why I'm in Arizona in the first place]"

"Oh, I've always wanted to be a teacher! I really admire the work you do, blah blah blah, I might quit my job and teach elementary school over in Prescott, I've always wanted to teach 3rd grade, etc."

I'm thinking, YES! I got him! I'm getting off for sure! I'm thinking Mr. Teacher-Cop and I have a real bond.
"That's great, I've always wanted to teach, too!" (really proud of myself here)

"Wonderful! Oh, but by the way, I'm gonna have to cite you for that, can I see your license and registration please?"

You've GOT to be kidding me.

Now, an aside. Arizona is very serious about it's laws. The fine for jaywalking is $350 and zealously enforced; no one jaywalks. The penalty for a DUI is 10 days in jail, no bail, no appeal (how this is constitutional, I'll never know, but maybe I'm missing something); I saw not one, not two, but 4 cops pull over a drunk in Tempe the other night as I walked home from the bars. Poor fool. Hope he had nothing good to do for 10 days.

There are speed cameras everywhere, here, too. So EVERYONE drives the speed limit. I thought freedom-loving libertarian westerners would say fuck speed limits and drive however the hell fast they please. But noooooooooooooo, they just lloooovvveee their speed cameras on the freeways. So no one, besides me, apparently, speeds. In Maryland, I've been passed on the right while going 55 in a 35 zone, and this is normal. In Arizona, anything above 34 in a 35 zone is considered unsafe, ungodly, and inappropriate. Weird.

BUT, it was my lucky break. Turns out, the Arizona legislature, in its bizarrely misguided wisdom, has decided that in this state, if you are cited for driving between 86 and 90 MPH in a 65 zone, you can have the ticket dismissed by completing traffic school. It's as if the ticket never happened. If you drive below 85, or above 91, you go to court. But there is a magic little window here, and I found it, and I'm taking advantage of it.

So Defensive Driving School, here I come. I'm sure those 4.25 hours on Saturday afternoon will be my most educational training I've received thus far during Teach for America Institute. Can't wait.

That's just one of my kinda funny stories from recently; recounting the lighter moments in life definitely helps me cope, so expect more to come!

peace and love from the grand canyon state,

pb