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The Fresh Princess of Old Greenwich

Remember how I started this year a little worried about getting stopped to or from the New Year’s Day Pajama Party Jazzercise class I helped teach?

I had worn my PJs (and a sports bra!) to class, used my fuzzy robe in place of a coat and was halfway across Stamford, CT, when it occurred to me that this might not go so well if I should get in an accident or otherwise find myself face to face with a police officer.

Fortunately, that experience took place without incident — unless you count Catherine’s deep humiliation  knowing that her mother was driving around lower Fairfield County in her pajamas.

Today, this happened:

My dear friend Pina marked my birthday with the gift of a tiara this morning at the Jazzercise Center of Southwestern Connecticut. Of course I clamped it on my head immediately, sweaty scalp be damned. And then I got talking with some customers for a bit. Twenty minutes later, I finally got in the car to head home, where I need to be a quick-change artist to get to an appointment at the Apple store’s Genius Bar.

Anyway, nearly home I noticed a police officer ahead of me. He was having his typical chilling effect on the traffic flow, but appeared to be making a left while I went straight and headed up the hill a block away from Stamford Hospital.

I was a little surprised upon looking in the rear-view mirror, though, to see he didn’t make that left, but instead followed me.

This had its own chilling effect … on my extremities.

Why was he following me?

I did a mental rundown:

25 mph and in a 25 mph zone. Check.

Not talking on the phone. Check.

Both hands on wheel. Check.

Doors all closed. Check. 

Why on earth is this cop following me?

I stopped at the stop sign, making extra-special sure it was a full stop, hit the gas and … flashing lights behind me.

Now, I’m not a fantastic driver, but I’ve never been stopped before. You can imagine my panic. I’m sure you could hear my heart pounding from wherever you are reading this.

I put the car in gear, opened the window, switched the car off, reached for my license and had a brief bit of even bigger panic while I tried to remember where Basil keeps the registration and insurance card (I was driving his car).

Just as the officer reached the driver’s-side door, I remembered the tiara, reached up and flung it across the front seat while I tried in vain to appear calm and collected.

I’m convinced he saw it, though, and that’s why I got off with a verbal warning for the rear taillight that isn’t working.

Back at home, and rocking the tiara!

Back at home, and rocking the tiara!

About Terri S. Vanech

Wife, mother, communications specialist, Jazzercise instructor and recently reunited adoptee. I'm living out loud -- and trying to make it all work -- in midlife. Having a sense of humor sure helps.


2 thoughts on “The Fresh Princess of Old Greenwich

  1. I love the tiara, very cute 🙂 Glad that you didn’t get a ticket!

    Posted by Frugal Foodie in WV | February 16, 2013, 9:44 pm
  2. Oh, my! I think this solves the problem of at least your accessories for Monday’s lunch! I love the tiara!! And believe me, from the stories my father told about stopping to help, or ticket, women taking their husbands to the station, a tiara is not the weirdest thing the cop has seen. Nor would pajamas be!!

    Posted by Karen Waggoner | February 16, 2013, 2:21 pm

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