I Fought The Law & The Law Won

Good Lord – it’s taken me all week to write this in between teaching, my interview, and trying to keep from having a nervous breakdown. Behold, old news:

Last weekend ran the gamut from rock-bottom to restful – although part of it sucked, a good bit of it did not and overall I’m left with an immense feeling of gratitude for my bountiful wealth of amazing friends, who helped me get through everything.

Friday night I made the mistake of reading an e-mail that turned out to be manipulative and stress-inducing. It was related to the crisis my family is in and was therefore very upsetting. My Dad was unable to sleep and in the middle of the night felt so ill-at-ease, I was almost certain I’d have to take him to the hospital. By morning we’d both gained a better perspective on things but were definitely worse-for-the-wear and exhausted.

I had to teach and managed to drag my ass out of bed early. I was headed to campus with plenty of time to spare when I realized I’d left my key to the classroom at home. For some reason, I thought I might not have an assistant (who would also have a key). All I could picture was me and a big class of angry students stuck in the hall, unable to get into the classroom, which scared the hell out of me especially since I didn’t have any Panera cookies with which to distract them. And after my flub the week before, I didn’t want to mess up again so I decided to turn around, go back home, and get the key. With hindsight I can say this was a bad decision but I was so completely drained and flustered, it didn’t seem like it at the time.

By the time I was halfway home however, I had a sick feeling in the pit of my tummy, worried I’d made a bad call but unsure what to do. Once I got to my apartment, I hauled ass inside, grabbed the key, and fled in terror. Not one to forget the importance of dramatic flair (I am a southerner after all), I took time to slide across the hood of the Goose Dukes-of-Hazzard style.

On the way back to class, I sped furiously and called the classroom on the off chance someone might answer the phone. Naturally someone did…and to further emphasize the poorness of my decision, it was the assistant. I explained what a tool I’d been and that I was on the way and would probably arrive right at 9 a.m., when class was scheduled to start. I apologized several times and was blessed to be working with one of my more laid-back colleagues who couldn’t have cared less.

My Indy-readers know there is a major highway project underway here – it’s called Super 70 and it Super Sucks, especially if you have to travel downtown (where the Indianapolis classroom is) a lot. For the last few months, a particular stretch of highway along the way downtown had been closed and I’d grown accustomed to taking the detour. The Goose clipped along but it was only after I took the normal “detour” that I noticed it was no longer a detour. Instead it was closed and the normal route had been re-opened. FUCK A DUCK! I wasted 7 minutes turning around and was once again on my way.

Since I was speeding, I had my eye out for coppers but of course didn’t notice the one who would shortly be giving me a $150 speeding ticket – my first, for the record (no pun intended.) He’d set up a charming little speed trap, perfect for busting unsuspecting fools like me. Before I knew it, an angry-looking cop leapt out into the road and waved me over. I was going 75 mph, which isn’t bad for the highway but is bad for a construction zone. As I pulled to the side of the road, tears welled up in my eyes but I told myself a meltdown would have to wait until after class. (I’m not above telling you that I briefly considering crying anyway, as it might help me keep from getting a ticket.) I gave Barney my license and registration and while he called them in, I called the classroom again to say, “Remember when I said I’d be there at 9 a.m.? Well I’m going to be late now because I’ve been pulled over.” One of my sort-of supervisors answered the call and was quite bitchy about the whole thing. (Frankly this irritates the hell out of me because I’m a good teacher [dammit!] and never in my five years of teaching has anything like this happened.) She said, “You should know you’ll always have an assistant.” Thank GOD for that easy, problem-solving tidbit!

I made it to class by 9:05 a.m. and somehow kept it together to teach for 3 hours. Everything went well and all the evaluations the students submitted were positive.

After class I ran to my car and burst into tears. First I called Pappy and explained what had happened. He was very sweet and supportive and furious that all this family nonsense has been so disruptive. Next I called Lean, who sweetly invited me to come over and vent. That helped a lot and as always she was such a great friend and so understanding. Oddly enough, we ended up talking about the role race plays in America’s drug culture, but that’s a topic for another boring post I’m working on.

Sweet Moxy and K-bill invited me out Saturday night to drown my sorrows but I was so spent I couldn’t manage anything but snoozing and snuggling with Abbers.

In summary, this part of my weekend sucked ass. Fortunately thing got better.

P.S. I forgot to mention that after class I wrote an e-mail to my supervisors explaining what’d been going on and apologizing for my recent unprofessional behavior.

P.P.S. Does anyone know any way I can get out of this speeding ticket, especially since I’ve never gotten one before?