How To Charm John P. Justice
There have been a few times in my life when I have, for some unknown reason, been able to talk my way out of potentially damaging situations.
These situations have occurred while in my car, on the side of the interstate, with my license and insurance information in hand.
I have been known to have a bit of a lead foot.
(Should anyone from my insurance company be reading this right now, I am also an habitual liar.)
But not every situation with the long arm of the law involves speed; some involve testicles and the growing of same.
When pulled over just past Moose Lake (and its notorious gated community) on the way back from taking The Girl back to the airport, it wasn’t for speeding, it was for driving erratically.
Yep. That’s me. Pulled over for drunk driving when I’m not even drunk.
I don’t suppose though, that the kind officer was ready for my story. After ascertaining that I wasn’t drunk, he asked why I was driving like a damn fool.
I proceeded to point out that we were just passed Moose Lake Prison. I then proceeded to tell him my story. All of my story. An encapsulated Cliffs Notes version of 2009.
I then told him that as I was approaching Moose Lake Prison, I started to go to that dark place that had haunted me for a year.
And then it happened.
On the radio.
And the chutzpah and the cajoles and the spine that I grew all came back cuz Janis and I were kicking ass and singing our guts out.
And perhaps, just perhaps, I was swinging my car instead of swinging my hips.
It was me and Janis and nothing else.
All I got was a suggestion to keep my eyes and mind on the road.
And a smile.
And the best wishes for 2010.