Red Means Stop

Here's an average weeknight for me. I leave work at eleven. Typically I'll drop by The Lady's place to sit on the couch, talk and play with the dog. We may watch King of the Hill or catch up on the DVR. If I don't stay there, I'll leave between 12:30 and 1:00 and head north on Hwy. 51 to Mint Hill. I could take I-485, but deer are all over the place and I'd rather not hit one and ruin my extremely bad ass pickup. I pass maybe 25 or 30 cars on my 17 minute trek to the house. I hit several traffic signals on the way home. Normally I stop at all of these signals, but there's one at the intersection of Alexander Rd. that is pointless that late at night. I'm the only one there and it turned red as I was entering the intersection. A mile later, I was pulled over by Officer Lang from the Matthews Police Department. I think he was hoping I was hammered. Upon informing him that I wasn't drunk and wasn't speeding, I told him I wasn't sure why he pulled me over. I didn't even think about the red light because I barely ran it. He reminded me and wrote a citation. The whole deal took fifteen minutes. That's a long time to write a ticket for running a red light. I got so bored I took the most creepy self portrait I've ever seen of myself thanks to the glare of the alley lights Officer Lang blasted at my truck. Sure, I broke the law and deserved the ticket. I'm mad about it anyway. They should go get a meth dealer or something. e