That one time my boyfriend tried to get me arrested

We all have those stories that start off with "You remember that one time..." and they usually end up being pretty good ones. Well, you better believe I was excited when Meighan announced that she would be hosing a link up where us bloggers tell our "that one time" stories. I've already told you about that time I snuck out, or that time my boyfriend's dad saw me naked, but today is about that time my then-boyfriend (we'll just call him "R") almost got me arrested.

It was my sophomore year in college and the guy I was dating at the time got us tickets to go see Colt Ford in concert with his brother and sister-in-law and some of their friends. Firstly, if you don't know who Colt Ford is, this will give you an idea. He's like a musical Larry the Cable Guy. So this concert was in a huge barn-like arena and the drinks were flowing, not my way because I was underage the designated driver.

At the end of the night we headed back to his brother's house which is in a little place I like to call fum buck Egypt. As we are passing the only gas station in the "town" I notice two cops in the parking lot, pulled up talking to each other. I guess because it's 2 a.m. in the middle of no-where, they are pretty bored so they decide to pull out and follow me. No lights, just following. Until I put on my blinker and turn down the dirt road to the house. Then the lights come on.

Once the cop gets my info and comes back to the car, he asks the dreaded question, "Y'all been drinkin' tonight?" As I am responding with "No, sir" R exclaims "Yep, jusstt a leeetlle bit." Cue side eyes. So the officer and his buddy take R out to the back of my car and they have a little conversation. Officer Bob (that's his name now, just go with it) comes back to the window with a "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step out of the car." As I'm getting out, slightly pissed at this point, ole Bob is saying that R has already spilled the beans about how much I've drank (somewhere along the lines of 10 beers?). I kindly explain to Bob-o that, no, you must be mistaken because I haven't had a drop. And then.... get this, he actually tells me he can smell it on my breath.

This is when I lose my sheet. I start rambling about power trips and gas-station pow wows and how late it is and that is my driveway right there (really, you could see the mailbox from where we were pulled over) and really, Officer Bob, you are just being really mean right now. I think I caught him off guard because he goes back to talk to his partner, who is still with R. He comes back with a full blown apology, talking about his underage girlfriend that drinks around him and what a big hypocrite he is and blah blah blah. I don't care. I want to go to bed.

Finally, we are able to go the 100 yards to the house and R is laughing so hard. Why, you ask? Because apparently when he told the officers how much "I" had drank that night, he really thought they were asking how much he had drank. Which is why he answered with 10 or so. So really, all of that drama was about a stupid, drunken, misunderstanding. I'm sure if it was humanly possible I would have spit fire at him that night.

 

Do you have any crazy cop stories?