Carol's Trip to the Big House

White Adobe, originally uploaded by carolsLittleWorld.

The other day, I was driving a bit too fast. Ok, I admit it, I was speeding. Ok, Ok, I admit it, I was hauling ass, “Whee! I’ve got a tailwind, let’s see how fast it’ll go today” speeding. Yes, it was a nice day out, I had the radio on and, somehow, my foot just got a bit sort of “heavy” on the pedal. (When I say “a bit heavy” I actual mean that, if I were an Indian at that point, I would have been called “Chief Leadfoot.”) Ok, so I’m hauling along and, wouldn’t you know it, I blew my little hatchback right past a cop.

Lucky for me (and I do mean lucky-PHEW!) the cop was turning around in the median and he didn’t have his radar gun up and taking pictures just yet. If I had to guess, I’d say that he looked like he had just nailed somebody coming the other way and was now making the turn to set himself up to nail somebody traveling in my direction. Lucky for me, he did not pull me over, write me up, or any of that. He did pull out behind me and follow me, but, alas, it was too late for, as soon as I blew past him, I realized the error of my ways, immediately slowed, and started doing a half a mile *under* the pesky speed limit. At the end of it, when I finally arrived at my destination, as I was parking, I felt a sort of relief. Phew! I narrowly escaped that one.

But, the idea of getting nailed doing so much over the speed limit really scared me. I started to think about what might have happened had he been taking pictures, what might have happened had he clocked me going that fast. I would have probably ended up in jail.

I have to be more careful driving. I can’t go to jail. Unlike Ram who, except for the misguided mistress and the lack of a decent curry, seems to be holding up quite well, I’d never survive in the big house. I just couldn’t make it. I’d crumble.

Why? You might ask. What makes me so sure? Well, for starters, they don’t have cameras there. Actually, I take that back, they do have cameras there, just not any they’d allow me to operate. (I’m guessing here, but they’re probably all used for surveillance purposes and the guards would probably not take too kindly to me “borrowing” one because, you know, “the light is so right” today.) And, just how long, do tell, do you think I’d be able to survive without a camera in my hand? Now, I don’t know the precise answer to that, but I can tell you, it would not be a very long time, that’s for sure. Me without a camera? That’s like a chicken without an egg, that’s like rice without the white, that’s like, well, you get the idea. (It would just never work, on so many levels.)

Now, prison is not without its merits. They get free cable television and they have weight lifting benches. Looking down at my pasty white sagging arms, a weight lifting bench, at this point in time, might not be such a bad idea afterall. Then there’s the free stylish orange wardrobe, along with the extra firm mattresses, good for the old backbone, if you ask me. (It’s enough to almost make me wonder if they don’t get Top Gear in the joint. Top Gear, or at least, you know, some of the funnier Judge Judy re-runs.)

Yes, in prison, you get all of that and more. You see, it’s dark, and cold, and they frequently have water running at odd hours of the night. And we all know (or you should if you read this regularly) what you get when you combine dark, cold, and a nice supply of running water-a big DARKROOM! Oh, yes, never mind the file, it’s almost enough to make me want to bake a cake with some fiber paper and fixer stuck in the middle, isn’t it?

Eh, my luck, I’d of had to just pay some $500 fine and be done with it already.

Until next nickle in the joint…