A Tale of Two Tickets

I got a speeding ticket last month.  I was on my lunch break, going to switch cars with my dad for the weekend.  They were taking a bunch of kids from the youth group to the lake and needed a bigger car.  (I seem to always be on a "good mission" when I'm speeding.  Why is that?)  So there I was, on I-35, caught going 75 in a 60.

I'm used to the speed limits on the Toll roads being 70, so it didn't feel to fast at all.  But this officer caught me.  I'm pretty sure I had the music up loud, and I was singing along, not really paying attention to my speed.

I have today off from work, and besides sleeping late and cleaning the apartment, I decided to do other riveting things like go pay my ticket.  Prior to heading to the courthouse, I deposited my bonus check, knowing full-well that I would use at least some portion of it to pay my ticket.  Isn't being an adult fun?

I was the only one in line, and I must admit, this was a pretty nice place.  Not exactly what I expected.  I was given the option of paying $107 and agreeing to take defensive driving, or pay $297 and not have it on my record or take defensive driving and just be done with the whole blasted thing.

Honestly, it didn't take me two seconds to calculate the cost of defensive driving was less than the $190 difference, but I did think about it, if only for a millisecond, when I remembered how I really wanted to spend my bonus check (it does not include paying for a ticket, in case you're curious).

I debated dressing nicely for this occasion, wondering if they would treat me differently if I came in wearing a t-shirt.  But since it was my day off, I decided that I didn't really care, and the ticket was going to cost the same no matter what.  I ended up choosing one of my favorite Baylor shirts, and had the nicest conversation with the lady behind the glass about a time she met our mascot, only to later discover the other bear killed it.  Sad story.

But, I must say that paying this ticket and having a nice little conversation with Barbara was much more pleasant than the time I got caught going 62 in a 40 down Valley Mills road in Beverly Hills (a tiny town at the edge of Waco) on a cold Sunday afternoon, had to visit their old, dirty and dark courthouse twice, for reasons I've apparently blocked out of my mind.

Today was much more pleasant.  So, here's a valuable lesson: if you have to get a ticket, don't get one in Beverly Hills, Texas.  Or just don't get a ticket at all.