Tonight as we were driving home from dinner, I spotted a cop car signaling me to pull over. Two officers got out, told me I had a broken headlight, and asked to see my license and registration. While I rummaged through my purse and glove box, the cops walked alongside the car, suspiciously inspecting its contents--namely Cristian, David, Lulu and Annie. I handed over the documents and the two returned to their squad car.
As I studied the officers through my rear view mirror, we all talked quietly and wondered why such intensity over a busted light. I mean it's true, we're not in Kansas, but we sure as hell are not in L.A.. All sorts of stories started running through my head. Maybe the U.S. Embassy was after Cristian because he extended his stay, maybe Annie resembled a girl in a poster. I even questioned myself if I had drugs on me, which made no sense since I don't do drugs.
Just then Officer #1 approached me with a big smile on his face.
"Why didn't you say it was your birthday?!" He shouted gleefully while handing me back my papers. "Nobody gets a ticket on their birthday!"
No, I thought, we're not in Kansas, and we're definitely not in L.A.--we're in New York, the greatest city in the world and for me, there's no place like home.