When I broke up with my college boyfriend for the third and final time, I was done with dating, apart from a couple of unsuccessful forays, for five years until I met my first husband.
My friend Jen would get me through the last two years of college. We did everything together. Ate meals, went on group camping trips, studied until the break of dawn. Once we were headed to some apartments to party on a Friday night with a 12 pack of beer in the back seat of my Jeep, each of us sipping a cold one in the front seat. The apartments were less that a mile from the dorm, but somehow I managed to garner attention from a local cop.
Our "Oh shit" buzzer went off when I noticed the blue lights in my rear view mirror. I raced to cover the cooler in the backseat and we buried the two open beer bottles in the console as I pulled over on the side of the road. We were only 18.
I rolled down the window and smiled at the officer sweetly. "What were we doing wrong?"
"Do you know what a California stop is?"
"You just did it. It's when you pull up to a Stop sign, and instead of stop, you just slow down and go right through."
"I am so sorry. I'll never do that again."
"That's all right. You girls stay safe. And pay attention to the Stop signs. You stop a full three seconds, count them, before you make a turn."
"Ok, we promise. Thank you."