Damn you, Delaware!
Got into Delaware last night for three days in Rehoboth Beach! Too bad it’s so windy the birds can’t even fly where they wanna fly.
Besides the beach, I literally knew nothing about Delaware. Sorry, Delaware, but you aren’t exactly making the headlines out on the West Coast. I did a little Google-ing and found out Dogfish Head Brewery is in Delaware, only a few minutes from my home-for-three-days.
Tours are every hour on the hour until 5:00 p.m. according to their Web site, so around 1:30, I head for the brewery for the 2:00 tour.
I’m like one minute out of the driveway when I see the little white car in front of me gesturing wildly out her window as she pulls to the shoulder of the road. I think to myself, Whoa, I hope she’s okay. As I drive by, I look over at her to make sure she’s not having a seizure or something and she ever-so-clearly / angrily mouths, “Bitch!”
I’m super confused about life, but I check my mirrors and… oh, wait, there’s a cop in the rear view mirror with his lights on. I pull over to the shoulder. So that’s why I’m a bitch.
The cop pulls in behind me. He says he saw me talking on my cell phone while driving, which isn’t technically true; I was just listening to a voicemail. :-/ He’s pretty friendly and asks where I’m from and what I’m doing in Delaware. Obviously he asks for my license, registration and proof of insurance.
I’m immediately embarrassed by all the things that tumble out of my glove box: Rocks and seashells, saltine crackers, a photo of me in Cancún, dirty napkins… tons of STUFF.
I hand him my license, eventually dig out the registration, and then hand him an only-slightly expired proof of insurance. Oops.
He goes back to his vehicle and I wait patiently… and by wait patiently, I mean, I snap this picture and try to fit ALL the things back in the glove box. He seemed friendly enough and I told him I just got into Delaware last night, so I’m not too worried about a ticket. Except maybe the insurance thing. I DO have current insurance, and it’s probably in the glove box, but, ugh.
The officer comes back with good news and bad news: he was able to contact my insurance and verify that it was indeed up-to-date, but he’s still giving me a ticket for talking on my phone. 🙁 $131 down the tube.
Then he throws me a real curveball. “Can I ask you a couple more questions?” he says.
“Sure,” I reply, thinking, perhaps vainly, that he is interested in knowing more about my epic road trip.
“You seem a little shaky,” he says. “You have any drugs in the car?”
What?! I most certainly do not have drugs in the the car. I might be shaky from too much coffee and maybe because if he gives me a huge ticket, like the one I got in California a few years ago (over $600!) then this road trip / my life as I know it are over. I mean, no big deal or whatever, but yeah, I’m a little nervous.
I tell him that I do not have drugs in the car and eventually he lets me go on my way to Dogfish. Of course, I have missed the 2:00 tour and even the 3:00 tour is full by the time I make it, so I put my name on the list for 5:00p.m. and head back “home” defeated.