A funny thing happened to my husband and me on the drive back from dinner in Georgetown Saturday evening. Flashing lights, siren, cops getting out of the car and approaching us on either side shining flashlights first in each mirror then in our faces. I did the quick four-point check: we weren’t speeding (heck, we were stopped at a red light when it all started), headlights were on, taillights weren’t out, and registration was current. But here we were, getting flanked by D.C.’s finest as we rolled down the windows. While my husband turned his attention to the cop on his side, I turned to the one walking up to my window. As I plunked my spoon back into my freshly purchased, craving-induced cup of Thomas Sweet ice cream I thought, “Goddangit, I’m going to be peeved if this melts.” But I said, “What’s the problem?”
He responded, “We’ve got a report of a robbery in this area and this vehicle matches the description.” (Apparently there aren’t a lot of ginormous black pickup trucks being driven through Georgetown these days.) But taking in the sight of a mildly miffed redhead holding a cup of ice cream, he said, “But, you guys don’t appear to match the description of the suspects.” I asked, “Is one of the suspects pregnant and eating chocolate chip cookie dough?” He chuckled and said, “No. You don’t seem like you’ve been out robbing people.” His partner was busy using his walkie talkie to relay the same information back to Interpol and then they headed back to their squad car.
It was all quite cordial and we were on our way within a matter of minutes. However, someone wasn’t quiet so accommodating. From my belly I heard, “I’m not even born yet and I’m already being hassled by The Man! This is racial profiling! Get our attorney on the phone because this fetus (and here I could hear thumbs thrusting toward a tiny chest) is suing for emotional distress. Now let’s get back to sending down the chocolate chip cookie dough shall we, woman?!”
Awww, sounds like someone’s going to be an ACLU lawyer…