It was a beautiful day.
At least it started that way.
When I left for Seattle the air was crisp and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I was marveling in all of creation as I drove Highway 2, being careful not to tailgate the truck ahead of me...
And then 10 minutes later I was pulled over by the Highway Patrol.
At first I thought he was after somebody else, and so I pulled over to let him pass.
But he didn't pass. He decided to pull me over for going 64 in a 60mph zone. I know, because I looked to make sure the needle was under the 65 mark, and it was.
The ensuing conversation went like this...
Johnny Law: YOU WERE SPEEDING!!
Dave: Sorry... I was just following the car ahead of me and didn't notice I was over.
Johnny Law: I DIDN'T STOP YOU TO ARGUE!!! I PULLED YOU OVER BECAUSE YOU WERE SPEEDING. I DON'T CARE IF YOU ARE FOLLOWING ONE CAR OR A HUNDRED CARS!!!!!
Dave: Uhhh... okay...
After that, I just shut the f#@% up, because obviously the man had it in for me. He claimed I was going 66 (which I'm fairly certain I wasn't)... but even so, that's within 10% of the limit, and hardly a grievous offense that was worth being pulled over for (let alone being yelled at). I mean, shit! Give me a break... would you rather people keep their eyes on the road and occasionally check their speed... or just stare at the f#@%ing speedometer and ignore everything else? Minor pops over the limit are bound to happen, even with the best drivers... ESPECIALLY with the best drivers.
What I don't get is that I was following five other cars... IN THE SLOW LANE!! Why me?? Did somebody spray-paint "F#@% ALL COPS" on the side of my car? I mean, it's not like I was blowing past everybody going 70 in the passing lane, so WTF?!?
The guy let me off with a written warning, so I guess he wasn't so bad after all... but whatever. If he would have ticketed me, I would have actually showed up in court with my flawless driving record to fight that one.
After dropping my car off at the dealership, the rest of my day went something like this...
That's Jäger Bomber #6, after which I was cut-off.
At least until the shift change when I was able to get two more from our new and improved waitress. It was at this time my friend noted that one's ability to play darts well is tied to alcohol consumption along a sine-wave curve. Sure enough, this seems to be true... at least until you start to descend the back-side...
It would appear to go like this...
As you are just completing that first drink, your skills start to improve. Right after you finish drink #2, you enter "THE ZONE" where your mad dart skills are on fire. Things just keep getting better after drinks #3 and #4. At that point, you inevitably put your drinking on pause for just a bit, so you can ride that "dart high" of being able to totally kill at the game. But then you start to lose your edge and have to drink #5 and #6 to maximize your "ZONE" hang-time. Right around drink #7 is when things start to go terribly wrong. You don't just leave "THE ZONE", you plummet out of it... no longer are you "on fire" but you bypass the "sweet" phase and drop directly down to "suckage".
At that point, all you can do is leave the bar, then go back to your friend's house and start queuing up a few more Jäger Bombers to finish out the evening.
Naturally, when you drink twelve shots of Jägermeister dropped in glasses of Red Bull Energy Drink throughout day, getting to sleep is something that proves to be a bit of a challenge (but somewhat less critical than not puking your guts out). It was a rough night, but I did forget all about being pulled over by the cops so I guess it's all relative.
Life is hardest when it's self-inflicted.
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I just found your blog, linked over from Totally Unuthorized. My first reaction was “I know Horizon Air – why the hell is he living in Wenatchee?” and then I saw the photos with the trooper story, and I remember why. I used to live up Sultan way on US 2 and if I remember correctly you have to make your own fun. Maybe the trooper was bored. Hope the car got fixed OK.
How can I be speeding if there are still people in front of me meow?
i *KNEW* suckage was a word!
HA Ha i’m the first to comment. you have no idea what a boring day I’VE had. this is like the fifth time i’ve logged on in the last couple hours.
that cop sounds like an a-hole, but i’m sure your general wellbeing was balanced out by the awesome sceneary.
I hear the whispered tales of the WA State Patrol…
You’re lucky he let you off w/ a warning.
But, seriously…64 in a 60?? That’s ridiculous.
So, when you hit the “suckage” point of darts, do people in your general vicinity start diving for the floor when they see you have a dart in your hand?
Fabulous scenary shots…too bad John WHP Law had to ruin the mood. I just got nailed 3 days before Thanksgiving, and didn’t get a CHP “warning”…
Can I use your Alcohol parabola as a teaching model in my algebra class?
BTW, I just got some great shots of a Pinto–I am calling them: “72 Pinto in Sweet Tomatoes Parking Lot 2006”. I’ll email them–you never know when you might need such a classic art montage set…
It was probably the Saturn.
Okay, 12 Jaeger bombs? I think I’d vomit from just one – something about the smell of Red Bull. Ugh.
But a nice, ice cold shot of Jaeger solo? That I can handle.
Sorry about the traffic stop. If you take two drinks that each taste like crap and do insulting things to your body, and put them together, do they form some sort of cohesive bond that makes them taste/act better? I just can’t imagine *tasting* that concoction, much less drinking it, and I’m a woman who will eat Frito-Pie out of the sack with a plastic fork at a football game, so hardly a tastebud snob.
Hmmm. These “Jaeger bombers” sound interesting. Don’t think I’d be able to handle anything near 12 though.
Wow, 12 drinks with Jaegermeister?
About 4 years ago I had 0ne (1)Jaegermeister and it literally took away my ability to walk. I had to lie down in the middle of the dance floor.
12? I’d be paralyzed. Oh God, it hurts me to just think of it.
Dave, you are one helluva manly man!
What exactly would be in a Jäger Bomber? Never heard of it.
Red Bull with a shot of Jäger dropped in… two drinks that taste horrible separately that miraculously taste great together!
And mess you up pretty bad… but in a good way.
I don’t wanna mention any names* but it looks as though we may have a few lightweights in our midst.
*Anthony, karla, Kevin
Awww, anybody can do twelve shots! Just start early (but not too early… lunch is good), pace yourself, and leave your keys. 🙂
Reading today’s entry was totally deja vu for me.
Circa 1989. My wife (now ex-wife) and I drove from Salt Lake to Seattle. Just getting off Hwy 97 and merging onto I-90, just coming up that incline, we were pulled over by a Wash. St. trooper. He clocked us going 58 in a 55. The conversation (as I remember it) went as follows:
TROOPER: Hello sir. I clocked you going 58.
ME: Yes, that is correct (I do remember the needle being between 55 and 60)
TROOPER: You need to slow it down there, son.
ME: I was trying to keep it at speed limit, but my 4-cylnder Honda was having some trouble climbing the incline.
TROPPER: It doesn’t matter. You need to keep the speed down. Since you are from out of state, I’m going to let you off. But do remember to keep it at posted speed limit.
ME: Ok. Thank you.
Since then, every time I’ve visited Washington, I watch my speedometer more than the road.
And yes, Jäger bombs go down really nice.
I have always been a Red Bell and Vodka man myself. Might have to give this a shot (pun intended) sometime. It really does not tast like ass?
“Life is hardest when it’s self-inflicted.” That’s poetry. You should be writing fortune cookies.
I cannot believe – I was just talking to a friend of mine in Florida about this drink yesterday.
There is no way I believe that Jager in Red Bull tastes good. It’s simply not physically possible!
I have a Eastern WA cop story for you. . .I went to WSU and on HWY 26 the cops are notoriously twitish. They set up huge speed traps in Othello and even use planes near Vantage. . .evil I tell you. Anyways, I was good for my entire college experience but as I drove home for the last time with my car laden with 4 years of miscellaneous crap I finally got pulled over. I had just passed a SUV full of frat guys and proceeded to blow past a cop about 15-20mph over the speed limit with my foot still on the gas . . .I just wanted to make it home before rush hour. Also, I had been living off coca cola and Special K bars for two weeks and was half crazy. I was pulled over before he even had time to turn on his lights. I rolled down the window and the first words out of my mouth were “I’ve been good for four years, I just graduated two days ago, and think you should take mercy on me.” The cop looked at me, looked at the junk in my car and goes “do you have any tickets over here” and I said “no I have only one ticket and that’s in Lewis county thanks to someone who thought it was cool to ticket me with my mother in the car” and the cop laughs and goes “I’m going to go run your license, if you don’t have a ticket east of the mountains I’ll let you go. I go “If you don’t ticket me I promise not to waste your time by dragging you back to traffic court” He looks at me and thinks about what I said and then goes “okay deal, congratulations on your graduation and have a safe trip home”