Arrested, Stark Naked

I wish I wish I wish I could write this post and then, only at the end, disclose that it was a dream, but I fear that a) my Mom would have a heart attack before getting that far and b) the people who have this blog address as part of a job application would find less humor in an assumed felony than a dream-related hoax. Ah, but there I've said it. It was only a dream. It doesn't make it any less funny (to me, at least), and certainly doesn't mean that I didn't wake B up at 6:27 am this morning to tell him about it. Thank God that man loves me.

Let the story commence. For ease of writing, we're going with the "in the moment" style of story telling... Deep inside I know this will be used out of context against me someday, likely when B is running for some political office.

So B & I were talking and he convinced me that it would be a) a good idea and b) definitely not illegal to go out for the afternoon totally naked. He, of course, had clothes on, and we brought a big white t-shirt for me in case I got weirded out, but we left it in the car.

We headed out for a late lunch at a Mexican restaurant (which was delicious), then were window shopping when the cops pulled up. "B, seriously, I thought this was legal," I said. B, my lawyer, BTW, is all like, "It IS!"

This nice blond lady cop tells me they've gotten complaints, to which I respond, "No problem, I've got a shirt in the car." The guy cop, her partner, says, "I'm afraid that won't work." Apparently, to "preserve the evidence," they needed to take me into the jail stark-ass naked. That's when I get all indignant. "When I get my clothes back, I'm definitely writing a letter about how you kept me out in public totally naked and made a spectacle of me," I say, before realizing that righteous indignation may be the last emotion I need to convey at that point.

While they're waiting for the bus to come, the lady (who was super nice) says, "I just keep thinking about those poor families inside the restaurant," to which B responds "I didn't hear anyone complaining!" Keepin' it classy, folks.

So the bus comes and they start to read me my rights, and then read B his rights. "You're arresting him, too?" I ask. "Yes Ma'am," the guy cop says, "He's an accessory to the crime."

Up on the bus we go and then the lady cop tells me she has to confiscate my wedding rings as evidence, and removes all five of them. PS- I only have two, so if anyone out there is planning to buy me an identical set (plus one) for my right hand, allow me to thank you in advance.

At this point, I get really upset, sobbing about how I need my rings. She tells me, "You'll get them back in no more than eight days, once they're processed." "EIGHT days?" I sob, "but my anniversary is this weekend!"

The lady cop holds them in her hand and says, "There's nothing like holding $100,000." This raises my ire, so I tell her that if the rings go missing, there will be hell to pay, to which she responds, "Oh, if that happens, we definitely cover the full price of the item."

Off we go to jail, me naked (right down to the ring fingers) and handcuffed thinking, "I have to somehow get my rings back and get back to B before he finds out about any of this," because the man sitting behind me in the police bus is none other than the Southern soul I saw driving on I-85 yesterday with a Confederate Flag hoisted on a homemade flag pole he'd built in the center of his mini-truck's tailgate.

I'm never having Panera for dinner again...