Tuesday, July 05, 2005

My Husband and the Water Cops

Ah, the 4th of July weekend. One of my favorite times of the year. It really just means more time out on the lake, more cookouts, more Smores, and an extra day of it all for me, and I love it.

This year, I've been a little more wary of the jet ski than in years past. Thoughts of wiping out on the jet ski and my liver going in any direction opposite of the rest of my body just freaks me out. I've been out on it a couple of times, but I refrained this weekend. I was happy to let my thrill-seeking husband and our friend Barret (he's about 13) have at it.

On Saturday, I was very happily eating some watermelon at Barret's parent's place when Rick and Barret came back in Barret's dad's truck, jet ski in tow. They had only been out for an hour or two. I was surprised to see them back so soon.

You guys weren't gone long.

Barret looked at me with that typical 13-year-old "I'm-13-and-too-cool-to-be-bothered" glance and said, You'll have to ask Rick why we're back so soon.

I looked at Rick and he said, We got a ticket.

A ticket!?! I screeched, for what?!?

Throwing wake in a no wake zone.

At this point, I was thoroughly annoyed. I had warned Rick a million times (plus or minus a couple thousand) that there really are police on the water, and they really will pull you over, they really are mean, and they really do have more authority than cops on land. If they want you to jump up and down and squawk like a chicken, you'd better do it without complaining. They don't need probable cause for anything.

Rick handed me the ticket and I glanced it over: $186.15. Holy cow. I suspected that he barrelled underneath the Jonathan Creek bridge (a very long no-wake zone). Apparantly, what had happened is that Rick and Barret went underneath the bridge with no problems, but before they could get completely past the no wake zone, Rick threw the jet ski to the left and took off. The cops were over at The Floating Weiner (a house boat turned floating restaurant that sells hamburgers and hot dogs--it has a monsterous weiner on top of it) and the jet ski annoyed them.

The cops stopped Rick and told him to go over and wait in a certain area. Rick, being the wonderful, respectful man that he is, looked at the cop and said, For how long?

The cop turned stone-faced and said, However long it takes, son.

They proceeded to head back over to The Floating Weiner and eat their lunch. A while later, they came back and gave Rick the ticket.

*rolling eyes* Men.

6 Comments:

At 1:26 PM, Blogger Tony Arnold said...

Sounds very mean. Was it just a bad hot dog, or did Rick leave some of the story untold?

I can picture Rick's face though, asking, "how long?"

Better be glad Kris wasn't there, you would have been bailing them out after their heated argument with the water cops!

Tony

 
At 1:33 PM, Blogger Amanda said...

I honestly think that is the entire story. Just some mean cops. My dad cornered Barret later and asked him what happened, and Barret gave him the same story. (Dad wasn't around to hear Rick tell it).

Oh, man....I could only imagine if Kris had been there. I wouldn't have been too excited to get that phone call!

Honey! Don't hang up...this is my only phone call...

 
At 1:56 PM, Blogger Andrea said...

he he he...does a water ticket add points to your driving record ?

Amanda, I learned a long time ago, sometimes men just have to make their own mistakes to learn the lesson. You can warn them all you want, but they will just think you are a "silly woman".

I also learned, once I am proven right, to keep my mouth shut. They know they messed up...no point in pouring salt into their wounded pride.

 
At 6:36 PM, Blogger CL said...

That is hilarious, yes, I can relate...

 
At 8:49 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

As a male, I must protest! I resemble that remark! :^)))

 
At 9:18 AM, Blogger DigiGirl said...

It's such a guy thing. Sometimes I think men take the time to learn the rules so they can "bend" them at their discretion.

Oh well. No harm done other than the fine (aka. "Stupid Tax") and a bruised ego.

 

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