...decided I wanted some "tacos tacos tacos" so I hopped in the Jeep and headed for the nearest Taco Bell.
On my way through the forest preserve, I was filled with trepidation, thinking about how much it would suck if some drunk fuck rammed into my Jeep, or something.
Then I saw flashing lights ahead as I proceeded west on Sauk Trail.
The cops had blocked off the road and--the officer informed me--were conducting a sobriety checkpoint, and they were checking every other car. Mine was that car.
"Oh," thought I. "I've got nothing to worry about; I'm sober. I've never seen one of these in action before." So I followed their instructions and pulled into the indicated parking lot, and handed over license and insurance card.
...waited 20 minutes, with increasing trepidation...
End result: a citation for EXPIRED FUCKING LICENSE PLATES
FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Wednesday before I went to Maine, I took the Jeep over to get it smogged so I could renew the plates, but I never actually renewed the plates. And so--guess what!--I get my second traffic ticket this freaking year because I'm apparently a screeching fucking moron!
...he also cited me for a lack of a front plate. I have the plate; I just have no place to put it--but before the 23rd I'd better get one and get it on the thing so I can show the judge that I corrected the issues for which I was cited.
The cop was nice about it, I have to say, and wrote the ticket such that it won't go on my record if I take care of the issues. Believe me, I'll take care of them.
It just aggravates me to no end that I fucking forgot to renew the goddamned plates. I've got no one but myself to blame for this shit.
That's what hurts so much.