Too Many Sprites Will Make You Giddy!

I am seventeen, working as a sacker and trash collector for a grocery store. It’s around 11:00 on a Friday night, and I am on my way home. It has been a long week and a long night. I still have homework to do. As I pass a street light I glance over at the passenger seat: NO school books. I panic and pull into the first parking lot with lights and search my car. Still no books.

I live twenty minutes out of town and am halfway home. As I am still not eighteen, I will cause my parents to be slightly miffed that I am late. I am thinking about this as I head back toward work. I miss my turn off the road I am on and make a three-point turn to head back to the intersection.

As I am getting there, a car approaching from the other side stops at the intersection. I am slightly confused. I look down to check that I do indeed have my blinker on. I do, so I flash my lights to let them know they can continue through. They flash theirs back and then they sit there. After about twenty seconds, I am like, “Look, I am running late and I do not have time for this,” and turn.

I get up to around thirty when the car — which turns out to be a police car — turns on his lights to pull me over.

Officer: “Where are you heading tonight?”

Me: “Back to work. I forgot my books in the locker.”

Officer: “Where do you work?”

I look down. I am wearing the company hat, the company vest, and, of all things, a name tag with the company name. When I look up, I say the name kind of slowly, as I seem to be dealing with someone who cannot read.

Officer: “What have you had to drink tonight?”

This is my senior year, last time I was at a party with beer was my freshman year. I fell asleep with my legs on the cooler, as then I could tell who was sober enough to drive me home, and I was never invited to another party. I was, however, offered money to drink as I was thought of as a bit crazy anyway and they wanted to see what I would do to me. I answer the only way a kid that has never had a problem with cops or drinking can.

Me: “I had a Sprite around ten.” 

Officer: *Long pause* “Are you trying to be smart with me, son?”

Me: “Smart with you? You asked what I had to drink tonight. I told you. Now, I am late getting home and need to get my books. As I have not done anything wrong — I wasn’t speeding, and I know my turn signal was on and you signaled me to turn — is there something else I can help you with?”

After running my license, he sent me on my way.