Appealing a Misdemeanor

Well, well, well Burl, I do accept your blog challenge and boy, have I got a story for you...

You probably well remember that I loathe traffic.  You probably also well remember the many times I have pulled over by Coppers... in Eden, in Greensboro, in Raleigh, in Virginia... I suppose having a Pink Tracker attracts pervy policeman like honey attracts bees.  Thirdly, I am sure you remember the many times I have talked my way out of tickets at the alleged crime scene and inside various courthouses.

You should know that old habits die hard.

As good a gal as I have become, and as much as I long to walk in sheer perfection, my history with police still threatens to ruin me.  Now, all I was doing was driving home from a dressy event at our church (of course, it was at church - that adds an ironic element of humor to this fascinating account).  The route I elected to take home was a strange one, up an unusual street called Wilcox, which is parallel to two of the busiest streets in Hollywood:  Highland and Cahuenga.  I brilliantly chose this street, because I know from eight years of experience, that it allows me to successfully arrive at the 101 freeway without bumper to bumper traffic on a Saturday night.

How was I supposed to know that LAPD also likes to avoid bumper to bumper?  Shouldn't they keep themselves busy on the streets where people dress up like Superman and Chewbaca, where people are murdered, drunk, and rollin' on E?  Naturally not, since Ashley Nicole Dodson is en route to her home for sleep at 10 pm.  She's probably a real threat to society.

Sure enough, as I crossed over Hollywood Blvd., flashing blue lights (and this is not the kind of Blue Light Special you, LaTrayl and I used to sing about) and siren sounds infiltrated my peaceful Passat, disrupting my speakers blasting an Israel Houghton CD.  Curs-ed Rats, I thought, as I was forced to pull over.  I am only sweating a little, since I am used to this sort of situation (See list at bottom of blog).

Woman Cop: "Ma'm, do you know why we've pulled you over?"
Ash: "Yep, my new registration is not on my license plate.  It's because I can't pass my Smog test, but if you look it up, you will see that the registration is current."  I hand her my license, registration and insurance card.

Banging on my tinted back window, she says a little too loudly, "Roll down your back window please!"  Well, I think to myself, this is just irritating.  What does she think I have back there?  As I roll down my window, I say, slightly smart, "There's nothing back there but laundry."  She nods her head up once, like an ex-gang banger, when she spots a huge wheat colored linen bag full of clean laundry, that has written in cursive on the outside, and now for her convenience, Laundry.

So, I wait, thinking this ridiculous issue will be taken care of in a matter of moments.  I wait a little too long, in fact.  Now my irritation has gone up several notches and as I look around at the drug dealers outside of their apartments on Wilcox and Yucca (a block North of Hollywood Blvd.), I begin to wonder exactly what in the world the cops are doing bothering me. 

Bang, bang on my window (which I had rolled up to avoid the one day of freezing cold LA had in December).  "Ma'm, can you step out of the vehicle please?!"  Again, a little too loudly for a non-criminal, but yes, of course I stepped out of the vehicle... which is when I spot Cop #2, who looks like Michael Chicklis from the Shield.  Sh$%, I think to myself.  What is going on?!  What the heck have I done?  I begin racking my brain and the last time I got pulled was in 2007!  And I paid for that ticket.  I went to court at the West LA courthouse, sat in judgement, and paid an obscene amount of money that went to God only knows where.  I've been so good-what in the world is happening?!

Fake Michael Chicklis says to me, "Ma'm you've been driving with a suspended license..."  I cut him off, "I'm sorry, I've been what? How is that even possible?"  FMC responds, also too loudly and firmly as though he is about to bust Tony Soprano, "I have no idea ma'm, but we are going to have to impound your vehicle."

"WHAT?!  Are you serious?  Wait a minute, there has to be another solution-this is ridiculous-can't I call a few friends and have them come and drive the car to my home?"
FMC says, "No ma'm, you were driving the car with a suspended liscense and we are going to impound your vehicle."

"So what the heck am I supposed to do now?"  FMC answers, "Ma'm that's really not my problem, but I think you better call someone to come and get you."  "Wait, I don't understand - you are going to impound my car and then leave me, a WOMAN, on WILCOX AND YUCCA, on a SATURDAY NIGHT, with her laundry basket, purse and laptop, by HERSELF?" 

"Well ma'm, we'll wait here for a few minutes for the tow truck, but we're leaving after that.  The best I can do is drop you off at the local Police Station where you can wait." (So much for LAPD's promise to serve and protect.)  Here's where he really gets loud and weird and speaks to me like I am a Cuban Drug Lord; he narrows his eyes and says "Ma'm, do you have anything illegal in your car?  Got any dope?  Got any guns?"

Ok, now I am just pissed - is he joking?!  "Why in the world would I have that in my car?!  NO!"  "Ma'm, its not personal, I just have to ask."  Of course its personal!  What is wrong with LAPD?  What is the deal with Michael Chicklis and his sidekick trainee?  Is this how movies like Training Day get written?  Am I on an episode of Punked? 

So, I go wait in my car.  It's absolutely freezing outside and I can't feel my fingers and toes, so I turn on Polly the Passat to get a little butt warmer action going.  Bang, bang, bang!!!  Startled, I turn to the right where this awful noise is coming from and see FMC staring me down.  I roll down the window and he practically yells, "Dontchu even THINK about going anywhere!"  To which I seethe back through clenched jaw and teeth, "WHY would I do that?  That would be so DUMB."  And I roll up my window.

So, while I clean out my about-to-be-impounded-Volkswagen, I make the embarrassing call to Cody to come and rescue me from Dr. Evil FMC and his partner.  Only, his roomate answers the phone, so I have to tell the story twice.  After he says he's on his way, I of course, call my Mama. 

Accustomed to calls of this nature since I was 16, she is not rattled; but she is, however upset that I didn't know I didn't have a license for Lord only knows how long. And since her hubby has served faithfully on the LAFD for 30 years or so, knows he is going to kill me... or at least think about killing me.  But of course, as we move past the fact that I purportedly don't have a license for unknown reason X, her mommy instinct kicks in as I am recounting the entire scene for her tonight.  And she is pissed.  "I want to speak to the policeman."  "Mom, that is ridiculous!  No!  I can't just give them my blackberry and say, 'My mom wants to talk to you.'  But she says in that voice you and I know so well (the one that's kinda through gritted teeth and was used to terrify all our ex-boyfriends from Eden and make us do whatever she said at the pool), "Ashley, you better put that cop on the phone."

So, I want you to picture this:  Busy apartment street in Hollywood... What appears to be drug dealers and gang members lined up alongside the dark street.  In order from South to North, LAPD Cop Car, lights still flashing with a laundry basket, laptop, and extra purse of stuff leaning against the hood, Charcoal Grey VW Passat with silver piece on driver's door side panel starting to come off, and the fresh arrival of LAPD impound tow truck backing up with beep, beep, beep sounds shrieking in the night.  FMC standing arms crossed like a Tito Ortiz about to fight Shamrock.  Woman Cop standing next to him, slightly nervous, as this is clearly her first time impounding a vehicle or dealing with a "criminal." Ashley standing in a short grey skirt, black tights, merlot suede shoes, black t-shirt, jewelry, hair and nails done, on my blackberry with, of course, my mom.

"Excuse me," I say to both cops, "my mom would like to speak to you."  Oh my God, this is hilariously embarrassing, and even FMC threatens to crack a smile at this one.  Woman Cop takes my phone and begins to talk... scratch that... listen to Mom.  Now, I didn't discover until later that my Mom was letting her know that if they even thought about leaving her daughter on the side of the street, that the entire team from Fire Station 43 would be arriving on the scene to protect her daughter and well, that wouldn't look too good for them, would it?

After 10 minutes on the phone with mom, I am annoyed with the cops, like really, really borderline angry (mostly because FMC had been showing me the ticket he was writing me while she was on the phone with Mom, which included giving me a MISDEMEANOR for driving with a suspended license) and the last thing I want LAPD on, is my blackberry.  So, I tell Woman Cop to get off of my phone, which I then take from her and tell Mom, I will call her back later, as we watch my Passat roll away.  Cody arrives a minute or two after that, so we load up my laundry, laptop, and two purses.  He was so wonderfully light hearted (as opposed to screaming - what the heck is wrong with you woman!?) and loving that I was stunned, not to mention extremely grateful for the grace he had for me.  Shocked Burl, shocked, because you know the kind of boneheads we have seen.  So, since its Saturday night, and I can do nothing until Monday morning, I just went to sleep.

When Monday rolled around, I was quite sore from all the walking I had to do on Sunday to get anywhere (as I was a potential criminal, unable to drive, and without car and license - did I mention the cops kept my license?).  But I still got up early, and with Mom, made it to the DMV, to the West LA Courthouse (where I discovered the reason for my license suspension:  Although I had spent hundreds of dollars on the ticket in 2007, I had to also complete Community Service... which makes this story even more ironic, since my ENTIRE LIFE is devoted to SERVICE), then back to the DMV, to Robbie Mac's for lunch, to Hollywood Tow, to the Hollywood Police Station, then to the Hollywood Impound, and at last, back to the DMV one final time.  $1200 later, all was reinstated and I can now drive legally again.  Thank God, Dave Ramsey has taught me all about Emergency Savings - although, can I just say for the record, that even though its for emergencies, that its still PAINFUL to spend on said "emergency"?!  And thank God for Mom, who generously covered the final bill for towing, so I could eat during the month of December.

I still have to appear in court on or before January 21st, and I promise you, I will not be receiving a "Failure to Appear" notice this time.  I also have to appeal a Misdemeanor, so if you or Seth have any information on how to do this, or if you know a good lawyer who specializes in hilarious-crime-scenes-that-should-have-been-an-episode-of-Punked type of cases, please feel free to share.

I love you Burl Womble,
Dod

PS Merry Christmas

PPS I know I said (See List Below), but I actually just wrote out the list and had to delete it.  WOW, do I have a rap sheet.  I didn't even get past 2001 and it was too long for me to keep going.  So just know that I have gotten out of too many tickets, had a lot of court cases dropped, been pulled more times than I should have been and served no jail time because I have forked over thousands of dollars to court systems in NC, CA and VA.  And thank God the past is just that, PAST.