The Boomer and the Law

This year, Life in the Boomer Lane submitted her taxes and subsequently had a call from her tax guru. “I was looking at your personal property statement for your car, and there was an inspection sticker attached to it,” she said. LBL immediately went to her car to see if anything was amiss, but saw two stickers. She then remembered that she had gone to the county courthouse to get a duplicate sticker because she couldn’t find hers. But, in looking at her windshield, she noticed that her car inspection sticker was several months expired. She filed this information in the same place as calls she intended to return and greeting cards she intended to send, and went about the business of her daily life.

Yesterday, on the way to a hair appointment (she never forgets about these), she was pulled over on the highway. The young, extremely charming cop informed her that her sticker was expired and asked her where she was headed. She considered saying she was on her way to the hospital due to some medical emergency, but she knew that, as the cop was about six inches from her head, he could have guessed where she was actually headed.

He asked for her license and registration. LBL keeps her license in her wallet. She is always a bit unclear about the whereabouts of her registration. She leaned over to open the glove compartment, and as she did so, the cop asked her if she also had a concealed weapons permit. At that instant, the glove compartment door popped open and a large pair of scissors shot out. LBL had a momentary flash that perhaps this is what the cop was talking about, and she would soon be joining the cast of Orange is the New Black.

She became so agitated that she pulled everything else out of the glove compartment, all at once. Papers, tissues, maps, a tire pressure gauge, band aids, sunglasses, EZ Pass, lipstick, and assorted snacks all started raining down and wedging themselves between the seat and the drivers door. The cop watched, mesmerized. The scissors, which had landed on the passenger’s seat, seemed to double in size.

The cop helped LBL locate her registration card and returned to his patrol car. LBL considered the fact that she looks really bad in orange and in shackles. The minutes ticked by. When the cop returned, he handed LBL her ticket. She gestured to the scissors and asked him if she also had a concealed weapon that she was unaware of but that she should address. The cop said that someone with her name came up on his computer as having a weapon. He assured her it wasn’t her. The scissors went back to their usual size.

LBL, relieved beyond all reason to be getting merely a ticket, debated whether she should cancel the hair appointment and head straight for an inspection station. But then she realized that if she were to run afoul of the law again, she would prefer to do so with fresh color and cut. She continued on to her hair appointment.