Since nothing exciting has happened in the past few days (I've been home sick!) I've decided to start this Blog by revisiting some my most favorite mishaps. In honor of my sister's most recent car trouble (something goes wrong with her convertible, "Kiki G", every other week) I've decided to kick off with a car story, of sorts.

During the first months of my freshman year of college, my sister's car went kaput. Since she was in her senior year and completing an off-campus internship, I - being the delightfully wonderful sister I am - gave her my car to use for the year. Since this was before the era of GPS, I had written myself directions and hoped for the best.

As I navigated the dark twists and turns of the suburban neighborhood, a car - which had been sitting off to the side of the road - pulled behind me, riding too close for comfort, with no lights on. I couldn't help but keep looking in the rear view mirror, and was getting more and more anxious as the car continued to follow me, light-less down a dark & winding street. I must have been too distracted to notice the stop sign, and the next thing I know, the creepy car erupted in a deafening siren noise. It was a cop car - or, in my mind, someone pretending to be a cop. I mean, what kind of police car doesn't have headlights?

I pulled over, but as the cop approached my car, I gripped the wheel, refusing to roll down my window...and then burst into tears. I was convinced, despite his very authentic-looking badge and uniform, that he was an impostor. So, I yelled through the rolled-up window for him to call 911 if he was real, or I was going to drive away. It was before the era of cell phones, too. Bewildered, he went back to his car and radioed in. I can only image what he said since he was clearly taken aback by my heaving shoulders and streaming tears. Within minutes, the dark street lit up with at least three more cop cars. (I'm glad to know suburbia takes potential police impersonators seriously).

Now, a new cop came up to my window, tentative, because I was still crying. I rolled down the window and blurted out that I thought the first cop was a fake. He paused, took a deep breath and asked why I would think that. With a handful of anxious men in uniform listening, I started telling them how the car pulled out from the side of the road and followed closely with no head lights on, making me too nervous to pay attention to the road. Looking back on it, very lame. I know. They all turned, and for the first time since arriving on the scene, realized that, yes, in fact, there were no lights shining from the first cop's car. Nervous smiles abounded, and they started apologizing. I'm pretty sure I owed them all an apology as well, but I just sniffled.

In the end, I not only did I receive an apology, but kudos for being vigilant and an escort to my sister's campus. So, I know it's been ten years - but I'm sorry, Unnamed Suburban Police. Thanks for understanding.