will break for lunch

The other night we gathered at Sarah's to celebrate Elle's upcoming nuptials. Many stories were told to her soon-to-be hubby. I was amazed at our ability to bring up Billie (Elle's nickname) trivia. We were holding our sides and burning off our chocolate cake dessert before it had a chance to digest. Here's one story I didn't tell:

The first time I got a speeding ticket I was 16. It was the first day I was allowed to take the car to school. At lunch we piled into the car and drove down 900 South, Whitney Houston's "Heartbreak Hotel" blasting on the radio. Em, who knew all the words, was shotgun, Elle was in the backseat, along with Kates and I don't remember who else. The cop was hiding behind the corner, speed gun caulked, perfectly out of sight. He was ready and waiting for such innocent and oblivious 16 year-olds off on a 15 minute joy ride. I was car dancing and slapping the steering wheel as we headed to our usual lunching location: Great Harvest. We'd spend .75 cents on a cinnamon roll and, with purchase, get a slice of bread as thick as a brick. I'd slap honey on mine and with sticky fingers head back up the hill for 4th period.

We coasted down the hill with ease, feeling fun and fancy free (as fun an fancy free as you can feel in a minivan). I remember looking at the speedometer mid-decline and seeing the needle hit 40. I felt a tinge of remorse, and made a complete stop at the stop sign, Whitney's voice accompanying my regret. Ready to repent, I started slowly, but was flagged down by a man in dark brown. He motioned for me to pull around the corner. DJ Em at the dial, she turned the volume soft soft soft, until Whitney was on mute. Down went my window and up went my heart rate as the cop came forward asking for my license. I'm pretty sure they covered this in the first day of Driver's Ed - anytime you're behind the wheel, have your license. It's not that I missed that class but in the mayhem that was the last-minute decision that I'd be the taxi to Great Harvest, I didn't run back to get my license in my soccer bag. I handed over my high school ID as my form of identification.

After a few minutes worth of lecturing, some snickers from the back seat, and my first signature on a traffic violation, we were on our way to Bread Heaven and back to school before the bell. We took the 800 south route, no radio, and somehow the honey on my bread that day wasn't as sweet. Between the bunch of us, there were several other tickets those two and half years before we parted ways for college. We reminiced about the best of them the other night. I think we'd all agree that the lawn mowing, too-much-school-spirit, "Use of horn" takes the cake. Way to go, Kates!