the bad luck fairy

have you ever met someone with bad luck? i mean the real stuff, not the occasional oh-man-my-cell-phone-dropped-in-the-toilet kind of luck (6 months ago), but the kind of luck that produces superfragilisticexpialidocious stories? Hi, nice to meet you. i used to think i was exaggerating (who me?), but when i reflect on the events that have occurred in my relatively "short" lifetime, i have to conclude... this kind of crazy just doesn't happen to everyone!!

let's just start with one fabulous tale...

imagine... a beautiful summer day, my mother and i were shopping around baton rouge... we had been at it for hours, and i was exhausted. so, i stayed in the car. my mother gave me her infamous "i'll just be 5 minutes," which is actually mom code for 30 to an hour. however, i sat in the car in front of hobby lobby... i was in the fire lane but i wasn't parked, because i was waiting for my mother for "5 minutes"... then i saw a cop patrolling the parking lot, and i thought, "you know with my luck..." so i went and parked the car. as soon as i removed the key i heard a "vroo vrip" - that is a police siren, by the way - and realized that their was a patrol car stopped in front of the car and one behind the car. here i am, thinking.. oh god, this is because of the fire lane? i wasn't even parked... a policeman walks to my door, requests my identification, and asks me to step out of the car, he asks, "what were you doing about 30 minutes ago?"

me: well, i was over shopping on siegen with my mom...
officer: you're going to need to come with me
me: but.. what is this about? can i just tell my mom, she's in the store..?
officer: i don't think so, how about you get in the car..
me, crying as i get into the back of the patrol car: but.. i don't understand...
officer: you weren't at a bank about an hour ago?
me, realizing that this wasn't about the fire lane: no...i told you i...
officer: so why are you crying if you didn't do anything wrong?
me: because this doesn't just happen to people!!
officer: well you're just going to come with me for a bit...

at this point i'm wondering if this policeman was even legit, if i was actually being kidnapped, and wondering why i hadn't gotten my cell phone out of the car...

he gets on his radio and tells them he's picked me up and he is on his way to the bank... he drives me to the bank. when we get to the bank there are more officers and people standing around.

another officer opens my door and says to me, joyfully, "yup, that's her!"
me, crying hysterically, frantic: "no, sir!"
him, showing me a foreign passport: "this yours? you leave something behind when you tried to cash that fake check?"
me, now officially concerned and seeing my new criminal life flash before my eyes: "no, sir! that is not me!"

thankfully, the manager from the bank comes out and says, "oh no officer, that's not her, see this girl is wearing a light pink shirt, the other girl was wearing a darker pink" ...

REALLY? YOU CAN GET PICKED UP AND THROWN IN THE BACK OF A PATROL CAR BECAUSE YOU ARE WEARING A PINK SHIRT? officer #1 took me back to my car and all he says is "the girl had a ponytail like yours and was wearing a pink shirt. uh, sorry" YOU CAN GET PICKED UP AND THROWN IN THE BACK OF A PATROL CAR BECAUSE YOU ARE WEARING A PINK SHIRT AND HAVE YOUR HAIR IN A PONYTAIL?

at this point it has been more than 30 minutes, and i was imagining my mother in horror, shock, beside herself because i am not at the car... on the contrary, she was still in hobby lobby, oblivious that i had ever been gone... i found her in the flower aisle... and when i tell her, with tear-filled eyes, "momma, the police just picked me up," she LAUGHS... ever heard of the boy who cried wolf? apparently i need to stop joking around.

long story shorter, later that day my grandma found out and was so upset that she proceeded to call the police station and tell them how i'm an american citizen, and ask them how can they just pick someone up because they have a brown ponytail and are wearing a pick shirt? she then asked them how many other poor innocent girls wearing pink shirts were picked up.

moral of the story: grandma's are awesome, and don't mix pink shirts with brown ponytails, you may be mistaken for a criminal.