Friday, August 22, 2008
Beaverton Police Rule!
On Tuesday, I ventured out to Beaverton to visit Marie and her new kittens (kittens with very sharp claws, but cute nonetheless). On the way back, I ran into a couple of issues that interfered with my ability to drive safely. Well actually just one issue. And that issue was my vision. I have always maintained I have poor night vision. And I think what happened last Tuesday proves as much. I was supposed to turn onto Murray to get back to 26. However, as I pulled into the turn lane and waited for the light to change, I started panicking because I could not tell if there was a median in the middle of the street or not, and when I realized there might be a median, I upped the level of my panicking because I could not tell what side of the median I would need to turn onto. As I soon would discover, there was no median. At all. However, I did not discover this until I began to turn left, freaked out because I still could not figure out what to do about the phantom median, started to try and go straight (while still in the middle of the street), realized the light to go straight was still red, and then finally just decided I had no choice but to go for that left turn, median or no median. So I did. And was immediately pulled over by the Beaverton Police. He took his sweet time getting out of his car and over to my window, which gave me time to turn off the radio, grab my license and figure out what I was going to tell him that would sound less crazy than "I thought there was a median in the street, but there wasn't, so no worries!" Finally, he sauntered up to my window, and I quickly told him that I was not from these parts and was just trying to get back to 26. He kind of laughed and said he figured I was either lost or drunk. Good thing I had stuck to hot chocolate at the bar (which is kind of weird, now that I think about it. Hot chocolate in a bar in the middle of August?). He also told me that he had debated pulling me over or the guy who had been behind me, got tired of waiting to figure out what I was going to do, and had dangerously sped around me. Upon hearing this, I became very indignant ("Yes, that is dangerous! You would have thought he could have waited like 2.3 seconds!"). After giving me directions (I actually knew where I was going, I just was thrown by the presence (or lack of presence) of the median), the nice officer sent me on my way. Maybe the nice police officers is the reason people want to live in the suburbs?