Starbats

Back in town and back to business as usual. Last night around 7pm I was at a certain behemoth coffee franchise that shall remain nameless drinking an iced coffee on the patio when a woman who had been sitting behind me grabbed my shoulder and said, "I could use your help." I looked up at her just as she turned her back to me and said frantically, "Please get this bat off my back!", revealing a large grey BAT, hanging upside-down in the middle of her back which was now directly in my face. I jumped up startled, saying something to the effect of "oh my!" I swatted at the bat with my book for a moment while the woman jumped up and down and covered her head. When that didn't work I attempted to pry the bat off her back with my bookmark, all the while holding her shirt away from her back so the bat couldn't bite her. She started screaming that she was going to take her shirt off, so I ramped up my efforts and managed to pry the bat off of her, just as she litterally ripped her shirt off, sending the bat, and all of her buttons flying and leaving her in her bra, dancing around in front of about 20 people. Seeing that the bat was off of her shirt I quickly held it up for her to cover herself but it took some convincing for her to believe that the bat was no longer on it. People began insisting that I catch the bat, in case it had rabies, so I used my book to nudge it against the wall until someone offered me a cup. I corralled the bat under the cup and held it there with a rock while someone got me the number for the local police department. An officer eventually showed up, insisting that animal control wasn't available on weekends. He was clueless so I got a big paper bag and had him scoop the cup into. He asked, "should I kill it or let it go?" I stated the obvious, that it probably had rabies so no, he shouldn't let it go and he agreed. Then he started collecting the woman's information (she had been hiding in her car until we got the bat contained), and she thanked me for "saving her life", so I said no problem and left, as I was supposed to be meeting Zack & Co. for dinner and drinks at Casa Carlos.

Yet another reason that cars suck.

My grandparents were visiting in November and we went out to eat at a restaurant in Yuba City. Afterwards I was driving back into Marysville over the 10th St. bridge and was pulled over. I had no idea why I was being pulled over, as I wasn't breaking any laws. The officer was amazingly rude and after badgering me about not producing my info fast enough he took his sweet time writing me a speeding ticket saying I was traveling at 60+ MPH over the bridge. He then badgered me about my signature, saying it didn't look like my name. Then he grumpily told me to stay where I was until he was gone and he drove away. Had I been speeding I would have chalked it up to bad luck and moved on with my life; I'm quick to admit when I've made a mistake, but I hadn't. I contested the ticket, payed my bail and waited for months for my court date, which was today. After waiting through an hours worth of trials and listening to the group of police officers giggling in the corner every time a guilty verdict was awarded my name was called. The officer and I were sworn in and he gave his version of events. The "proof" that I was speeding: he paced me. When he was done, I gave my version of events and pointed out the following:
- I don't speed, hence my clean record.
- I especially don't speed over that bridge, because I got a speeding ticket there in highschool.
-I was behind a group of cars, and we were all stopped at the light in front of the bridge, so we would have all had to burn rubber getting up to 60+ MPH in that short stretch.
-I don't freaking speed.
I said I don't know why he chose to pull me over, perhaps he mistook me for someone else, misread his speedometer, etc. I wasn't freaking speeding. He said the court finds me guilty, end of story, would you like traffic school. !@#$%^??!!!!! This is proof beyond a reasonable doubt? This is why I'm not interested in working in our legal system grandpa.