That time I went to Arkansas

This time when I was in college, I had actually just left and I was driving from South Dakota to South Carolina and I was “driving by feel,” which is what my dad always called it when we were lost during daylight hours. 

Anyway, I saw a sign that was like “over here is Ohio! and over there is Tennessee! Choose your own adventure, Stephanie!” So, I chose Tennessee, because Ohio sucked then, and it sucks now.  Where was I going with this?  i don’t know.  I ended up in fucking Arkansas. And I got a speeding ticket.  I was going like 75 in a 55.  Have you ever been to Arkansas?  Like through it?  You want to get through it was fast as humanly possible and then take a hot shower.

I end my night in Memphis.  Just me and my cat Big Bird. Who was feral by the way and hated everything about me. In the hotel room that night, I took that ticket and ripped it up and threw it away.  The reason I did this was because this guy I knew (who actually was not smart.  Like at all.  usually when stuff like this comes up its like ‘he was actually brilliant but makes bad choices’.  This guy was a fucking idiot) told me that tickets like that don’t count if you never go back to the state they are issued. So I believed him!

I got up the next morning and hit the road, not thinking twice about that ticket.

About 6 months goes by, and my dad is renewing my car insurance.  He calls me at work “Stephanie. Why don’t you have a drivers license?” I’m all “what?” he’s all “YOU HAVE NO DRIVERS LICENSE.” Like I was deaf or from another country in which he had to raise his voice to speak to me.  My hearing is fine, just so everyone knows.  So I follow his comment with “I have no idea, I have been driving, I haven’t like gotten anything in the mail or anything.” Keep in mind I had no forwarding address and my drivers license was still issued from Minnesota with an address on it for a house that had been sold for months. He then proceeds to tell me that if I get pulled over I was going to jail.  Keep in mind, this was always the threat growing up.  Like “Don’t drink my scotch, you will go to jail,” “Don’t have premarital sex, you will go to jail,” or “Driving any speed that is over 5 below the speed limit will land you in jail, miss.”

So, I get yelled at for awhile. And then he tells me that I can’t drive until I have a drivers license again.  He knew my boss so he called him and aired my dirty laundry and was like “she’s not coming to work until this is done.”

He found out about the ticket and asked where it was.  I told him, room 213 at the Marriott in Memphis. In the garbage can.  But they have probably taken it out by now.

Also, this guy, whose name was Matt Foley (I will tell you more about him in another post.  He liked to wear my clothes sometimes). Also told me that you cannot suspend someones license if it is from another state.  Wrong again, Foley!

I was out of work for 2 days.  I think my dad took those two days off work just so he could sit at home and yell at me. I was like hardcore grounded for two days at the age of 22.

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