"I'm really passionate about parking enforcement. I'm going to live for that dream,"

said no one ever.

As you might have surmised, this is a post wherein I briefly elaborate on my magical week of baffling brushes with law, or, as
some may prefer to call it, "stuff" cops say.

I'm a regular outlaw.
But I need to learn how to keep my stupid mouth shut.

Incident the first:
It's a rainy, constructiony drive along the interstate 215. It's after midnight and I'm anxious to reach Kali's house for a brief repose because I must return from whence I came (rehearsal, of course) in less hours than the suggested sleep time for an adult female of my age and proportions. I'm achy and hungry. It's raining really hard.

-flashing lights-
-expletive-
-crunching footsteps, beating windshield wipers-

Officer (looking at me like I'm a supreme idiot): Ma'am, you need to turn your lights all the way on.
Me: Um. They are.
Officer (Obviously not believing me, looking down his nose at me with disdain, and fiddling with my lights): Oh, alright, your tail lights are out then.
Me: okay, thanks.
Officer (once more with the idiot look): You need to get that fixed.
Me: okay, thanks.

Which was fine. Normal, even.
Until...

Incident the Second
A few days later

Driving home from rehearsal, as usual. Tired. Achy. Starving. Approaching University Parkway Exit. Just one more! I can do it. Keep blasting that air conditioning. Must-- keep-- going-- a. little. bit. further.
UNTIL

-flashing lights-
-EXPLETIVE-
-swaggering towards my window, taking his sweet, sweet time-

The officer tells me I need to turn my lights on. I tell him my tail lights are out and I haven't had time to take my car in. He starts writing me a citation. Wait a minute! Ugh. Fine. He says I was going five over. [If you're not familiar with Utah driving traditions, "five over" doesn't really exist because it's kind of under the speed limit. If you steadily go five over you will undoubtedly be tail-gated and probably rear-ended]
So I'm, like, WHAT!??????

But I passively say "okay, thanks" or something as he writes out my ticket.
And then.
And THEN.

He says that I need to "find an officer and show it to him" to which I blurt out
"or her"
after which he looks at me like I'm an amoeba and says "excuuuuuse me?"
and I say,
"Um, I can show it to a female officer, right?"
and he says angrily,
"yeah, I guess there are some of those".

Angel Morelli just needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut.

Incident the third
Today; about an hour ago

This time the officer IS a her, and she's parking police. I funny-run to my car when I see her because I'm holding a backpack, a plastic bag full of garbage, a yoga mat and a few other sundry items.
Me (looking pretty stupid and sweaty, and consciously trying to sound pleasant): Hi, um, that's my car.
Officer (inscrutable): Why didn't you park in the lines?
Me: well, um, there were three other cars parked here and I thought it was an expansion because of all the construction.
Officer (passionately): Conformity is NOT the way to live! If you see something a certain way, don't just do it. THINK and do it a different way!!!

Me: ??

note: I didn't have the heart to tell her what I wanted to, that "parking inside the lines" is probably the first example on dictionary.com under "conformity". In fact, parking regulations and laws in general require complete conformity and her job is to enforce conformity in the parking lot.
But instead of celebrating my non-conformist approach to parking that you would expect her to heartily endorse, she practices this strange, voodoo reverse psychology on me! I am baffled.

Me: Um. I don't think I was conforming....
Officer (Shooting laser beams from her eyes): Pay more attention next time.
Me: um. okay. thanks. [or something]

So, basically I'm *this* close to life as a fugitive, which sounds romantic, perhaps, but really probably involves the most baffling discussions with condescending, belittling individuals with some seriously fallacious thinking and a uniform.

Are those requirements to attend police school?