When I caught the flashing lights out of the corner of my eye, I froze. My muscles instantly tensed up and I recognized the sensation of warm adrenaline flooding my veins. not again. With apprehension, I glanced down at the speedometer. 40 in a 25.
After pulling over and instinctively grabbing my registration & license, I glanced at the side-view mirror waiting for my ticket. In due time the cruiser's long door opened a pair of legs with knees as high as the door handles. With some effort the officer emerged from the patrol car, standing so tall that everything, the pedestrians, the cars, and even the trees, seemed out of proportion.
Fascinated, I watched it all as if it was happening in slow-motion. The scene was all too familiar: approaching my car with mirrored glasses and a crisp, navy blue uniform, each step confident and assured. One detail seemed out of place, though. This cop had hips. And an auburn pony tail.
In an instant, I completely forgot the all about the ticket. By the time she reached the door I was lost in the moment. I strained to look up at her from my seat down below.
"Do you know how fast you were going, sir?" she asked.
I tried to answer but nothing came out at first. "For-"
"Forty, sir. This is a 25 mile per hour zone."
"I understand, officer," I replied. "I guess I wasn't watching my speed."
"But you had no trouble watching me, I see."
I must have caught her on a good day. She seemed amused by my reaction.
She laughed. "It's OK. I get it all the time. I'm 6'8", for your information. And no, I never played basketball. Well, a little in high school, but whatever. That's not the point."
She dropped the ticket in my lap. Apparently, I hadn't charmed my way out of it.
"I'm tall," she said. "Get over it."
"I'm doing my best, officer. It's just that I've never met anyone- of your stature before."
She smiled. "Listen, in about a half hour I won't be a cop anymore. I'll be at Clancy's pub just up the road. If you're still curious in a half hour, come and say hi."
Of course, there was a very good reason I was speeding at the time. I was running late for a meeting, a meeting that by now had already begun no doubt. No matter what I did now, I'd still end up explaining and apologizing, so I pulled into Clancy's and I waited.
Two beers later, I began to wonder if my subconscious had made it all up to compensate for stupidly getting another ticket.
"Rick." The voice was softer now but still deep and imposing. I turned quickly. She was standing behind me with a pair of long-neck Budweisers. She wore jeans and a mint green sweater. Her eyes that had been hiding behind those glasses were soft and green. Her hair was still in a pony-tail but without the hat I could see highlights of reddish brown in there.
I almost asked how she got my name but thought better of it. She had obviously gotten it off my license. She handed me a beer.
"So, what do you do?" she asked by way of an icebreaker.
"Other than careening through the city at a high rate of speed? Oh, I design stuff. It's really not that interesting."
"You're more interested in me, then? My amazonian proportions?"
In an instant I felt shame wash over me. I had reduced this woman to the object of fetish, and she was right to call me on that.