This Was Not One Of My Shining Moments
I was mindlessly zipping down Speedway Boulevard (ironic, I know), when a motorcycle cop pulled out behind me and flicked on his flashing red-and-blue lights. I was already slamming on the brakes, but it was too late. The sinking pit in my stomach confirmed it as I checked my speedometer: 47 mph in a 35 zone.
I pulled over into a parking lot and waited for the cop to come up to the window. I sat there being mindful of the emotions washing over me. I felt ashamed, upset, resigned, stupid, surprised, unsurprised, and a little relieved. I watched the people walking by, staring into my window to see who got pulled over.
The UofA cop nailed me fair and square, and I knew it. I didn’t argue, whine, fake-cry or plead. I just handed him my license and the rental car agreement. The sad part is I wasn’t even in a hurry. I just wasn’t thinking.
I was going hiking to relax and clear my mind. Taking another 5 minutes instead of speeding to the trailhead would have made no difference in my life. But no, I had to rush. I was speeding along because that’s what I do.
Part of me is glad this happened. It’s much better than getting in an accident, and my driving style since getting back to the US was definitely leading me there. I had been driving too fast, turning too quickly, dodging between cars and always hurrying to my destination, just like I used to.
It’s fascinating how our brains resettle into old pathways so quickly. When I left Tucson, I was constantly in a rush, speeding all over the place, anxious and worried about things. I’ve been gone for 7 months, and thought I had washed much of that mindset away. Heck, I’ve only driven a couple times since I left. But now that I am back, I am slipping rapidly into my old patterns.
It’s time to be mindful of how I engage with Tucson’s energy, and the energy of my old self in Tucson.This particular old pattern is going to cost me over $200 and however many hours driving school takes, unfortunately, though hopefully the sting will keep me driving safely and respecting my energy in Tucson from now on.
I pulled over into a parking lot and waited for the cop to come up to the window. I sat there being mindful of the emotions washing over me. I felt ashamed, upset, resigned, stupid, surprised, unsurprised, and a little relieved. I watched the people walking by, staring into my window to see who got pulled over.
The UofA cop nailed me fair and square, and I knew it. I didn’t argue, whine, fake-cry or plead. I just handed him my license and the rental car agreement. The sad part is I wasn’t even in a hurry. I just wasn’t thinking.
I was going hiking to relax and clear my mind. Taking another 5 minutes instead of speeding to the trailhead would have made no difference in my life. But no, I had to rush. I was speeding along because that’s what I do.
Part of me is glad this happened. It’s much better than getting in an accident, and my driving style since getting back to the US was definitely leading me there. I had been driving too fast, turning too quickly, dodging between cars and always hurrying to my destination, just like I used to.
It’s fascinating how our brains resettle into old pathways so quickly. When I left Tucson, I was constantly in a rush, speeding all over the place, anxious and worried about things. I’ve been gone for 7 months, and thought I had washed much of that mindset away. Heck, I’ve only driven a couple times since I left. But now that I am back, I am slipping rapidly into my old patterns.
It’s time to be mindful of how I engage with Tucson’s energy, and the energy of my old self in Tucson.This particular old pattern is going to cost me over $200 and however many hours driving school takes, unfortunately, though hopefully the sting will keep me driving safely and respecting my energy in Tucson from now on.
Losing My Religion... Err, I Mean Underwear
In unrelated news I also managed to lose almost all of my underwear for 4 days. I was left with 1 pair of socks, 2 bras and 2 pairs of panties. When I arrived in Tucson and unzipped my suitcase, the packing cube I knew to be filled with the above-mentioned unmentionables was not in evidence.
I went through a gamut of emotions and thoughts, since everything else of my luggage appeared to be in place. Did a creepy perverted TSA agent run off with my lingerie? Did I manage to forget it in an airport somewhere when I had to repack? When did I last see it? I couldn’t remember, and felt frustrated and grossed out, wondering where it could be.
Fortunately, it turned out that no creepy TSA agent was involved, merely my own forgetfulness. I apparently took out the packing cube at my friend’s house in Phoenix before catching the shuttle down to Tucson, never put it back in, and voila, no Samantha-sans-underwear.
One pair of socks doesn’t get you far when you are an avid hiker going out every day…
So today I trundled myself and my rented white Toyota Corolla down to Phoenix (at a reasonable speed!) to visit my friend Sara, who had custody of my forlorn underthings. When I arrived at Sara’s house, it felt like a drug deal went down. I shaded my eyes and asked: “did you bring the goods?” She nodded gravely, and handed them over without a word. I grabbed them and stashed them out of sight in the car.
After that, we drove off to Pita Jungle and proceeded to eat, drink and be merry. The dinner and company was fantastical, but frankly I could have skipped the four hours of driving and the self-flagellation over forgetfulness.
Do you have any “oh my God I can’t believe I forgot XXX” stories? How did you fix your “oopsie?” Please share in the comments below!
I went through a gamut of emotions and thoughts, since everything else of my luggage appeared to be in place. Did a creepy perverted TSA agent run off with my lingerie? Did I manage to forget it in an airport somewhere when I had to repack? When did I last see it? I couldn’t remember, and felt frustrated and grossed out, wondering where it could be.
Fortunately, it turned out that no creepy TSA agent was involved, merely my own forgetfulness. I apparently took out the packing cube at my friend’s house in Phoenix before catching the shuttle down to Tucson, never put it back in, and voila, no Samantha-sans-underwear.
One pair of socks doesn’t get you far when you are an avid hiker going out every day…
So today I trundled myself and my rented white Toyota Corolla down to Phoenix (at a reasonable speed!) to visit my friend Sara, who had custody of my forlorn underthings. When I arrived at Sara’s house, it felt like a drug deal went down. I shaded my eyes and asked: “did you bring the goods?” She nodded gravely, and handed them over without a word. I grabbed them and stashed them out of sight in the car.
After that, we drove off to Pita Jungle and proceeded to eat, drink and be merry. The dinner and company was fantastical, but frankly I could have skipped the four hours of driving and the self-flagellation over forgetfulness.
Do you have any “oh my God I can’t believe I forgot XXX” stories? How did you fix your “oopsie?” Please share in the comments below!
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