I Haven't Even Been In The Sun That Much; Or, Racial Profiling At It's Finest

Late Saturday night, I was driving home through some back neighborhoods when I saw the familiar flashing of police lights in my rear view mirror. But this time, I had no idea why I was being pulled over.

I put on my best innocent face and smile, prepared to plead my case to the officer as he approached my window...and started speaking Spanish to me. My face fell as I struggled to comprehend what was going on, and I managed to spit out, "I don't speak Spanish!!!"

The officer laughed and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just used to seeing Mexicans driving these kinds of cars."

Yeah.

It took a few seconds for all the racial profiling and underhanded snarky innuendos (in YOUR end-os!) to sink in. I gritted my teeth and gripped my steering wheel. It took everything in my power to restrain myself from hurling stereotypes at HIM.

It's a good thing he let me off with a warning (for not using my turn signal) or else I'd be crying foul in a court room.

The really sad thing is that I haven't even been in the sun that much this year. My tanorexia has been severely impacted by the rainy weather, as this is the first week temperatures have even hit the 80's.

I plan to spend all weekend at the pool, so that next time I get pulled over, I won't feel so bad about being called Mexican...again.

Philadelphia: Come For Your Family; Stay Because Nothing Ever Leaves the Philadelphia Airport On Time

Talk about writer's block. I haven't had anything interesting to write about in forever! To put your minds at ease, yes, Samuel was returned safe and sound after I complied with the kidnapper's demands. He was left in a paper bag under a tree...and I still haven't taken him out of the bag yet.

In other news, I just got back from a trip to Philadelphia, hence the title of this post. It was a blast to see my family and cruise around with Lady in her new convertible. It was not such a blast to spend an extra five hours in the Philadelphia airport, waiting to board the plane, and then another two hours sitting on the runway because we were number eight million in line for takeoff. All I had to eat was a box of Peanut Butter Kandy Kakes - which, let's face it, are delicious and like manna from heaven - but even Tastykakes get tiresome after a few hours.

You know what never gets tiresome? People-watching at the Philadelphia airport. Luckily, no one approached me and advised me to stop eating frozen yogurt. Because if anyone had told me to stop licking my Tastykake wrappers, I was in no mood (as evidenced by the half dozen tearful phone calls to Bone Senior.)

Maybe the travel experience back to Utah put me in a sour mood, but I haven't been happy since I've been back. I think it's time to move.