Already in a bad mood, the crowd was further annoyed by the woman with the 6-pound purse.
How did I know I would have to pass through a metal detector at Lynnwood Municipal Court? I was there to fight a traffic ticket, and was out of sorts myself. We were all wet from standing outside in the rain waiting to get electronically frisked, when I realized that inside my purse I carried the usual — a paring knife, fingernail file, a metal toothpick, sharp medical tweezers, darts and scissors.
A lady must be prepared.
The screener at the counter was amazed at how many potential weapons he stuffed into an envelope so I could retrieve them on my way out. As he rummaged through my handbag, I could sense the mob behind me getting restless.
Nobody wanted to be there in the first place. Thank goodness I didn’t have to report to the courtroom for driving under the influence. Instead, I headed for the judge who dealt with those who parked in handicapped spots and others caught going 30 mph in a 20-mph zone. Aren’t we glad to have alert officers on patrol who pull over citizens who drive too fast or forget to grab their driver’s licenses from next to the bathroom sink.
Like me, who in January, stuffed with crab from a wonderful dinner at Red Lobster, led a convoy to my house in Mill Creek for a card party. Minding my own business in my 1993 Toyota Corolla, I wasn’t speeding, used my blinkers before turning and was not even applying fresh mascara when the blue lights flashed.
I think the only thing worse than flashing blue lights in your rear-view mirror is when the cable TV line goes out. It was awful. What did I do wrong?
And where were my friends?
Following in their cars, my buddies saw me get pulled over but headed to my house and opened the potato chips. I felt so loved.
As I pulled into a Taco Time parking lot, I quickly evaluated the situation. Let’s see, yes, I had one double grapefruit and vodka cocktail with dinner, but I sipped that over a two-hour period. The only aroma they would get out of me on a potential breath test was garlic dip.
After the usual officer cordialities, such as "Show me your license and registration, ma’am," he asked me if I knew why I had been pulled over. Oh boy, we were going to play quiz. I had no idea. He said my tabs expired four months ago, in October.
My shock was Oscar-worthy. That just couldn’t be. But it was true. I knew I had to buy tabs by the end of the month for my husband’s Chrysler LeBaron, but I was totally unaware that my Toyota stickers had expired.
I thought it was pretty funny when I told the officer I would have kept driving on those tabs until the next October, but he was a little cranky, what with working on Saturday night and everything. My inattention to the sticky little doohickey on my license plate surely warranted only a warning. But I was wrong.
The ticket for no tabs was $194.
Tim Eyman, get on that, dude.
I didn’t win that night at cards, so considering dinner, the ticket and my poker losses, it was a bad financial evening. Monday morning, I had my car emission level checked in Marysville, where I thought it was interesting that they now test the underside of your gas cap. Then I stopped at Julie’s Licensing Service in north Everett and bought my $54 tabs. I got a complimentary pen at Julie’s to ease my pain.
Checking the box that indicated I wanted a mitigation hearing regarding the ticket, my court date was set for the end of March. At the courthouse, pro-tem Judge Arnold Young was a peach. Offenders were called up to the head table to learn their fate in alphabetical order. If only I was still married to Mr. Anderson.
Able, Brown and Cantrell all got off with reduced fines. The judge worked through L, M, and N with a kind heart. By the time he got to O’Harran, I had rehearsed my spiel. The county never sent me a notice about the need for tabs in October, I said.
That happens sometimes, Young replied, but I agreed it was up to me to examine my license plates now and then for adherence to the law. He noted that my driving record was clear for the past five years and offered me an $85 deferment. It sounded better than paying the $194 ticket, and the infraction would be dropped from my file.
Wonderful to have the judge give a bad apple a break. Sorry to the man at the exit who had to lift my heavy weapons out of a secure drawer. He seemed a little huffy. Okay, I promised, next time I would leave my purse in the trunk of my duly registered Corolla.
Columnist Kristi O’Harran: 425-339-3451 or oharran@heraldnet.com.
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