Serendipity and the Traffic Cop

 Lost in mental lists of unfinished projects, I didn’t notice the blinking lights or screeching siren.  My awareness popped to attention, however, when an amplified voice broke through my reverie.  “Blue sedan, pull over now!”

Great!  Now I would be late for the interview, my only shot at becoming employed.  Stupid police!  Always harassing someone!

“Oh, hello, officer.  Lovely day isn’t it?  Did I do something wrong?”

“Lady I clocked you at ninety miles an hour.  Do you have any idea of the speed limit here?

I smiled and fluttered my eyes at him which he ignored as he continued lecturing me.  He reminded me of my father when I used to come home late from a date.   “Blah blah…safety…blah blah… danger…what were you thinking young lady?”

“About more important things than road rules, you nincompoop!”

“Oh, officer, I’m so sorry.  It’s just that I have this important interview, you see, and I’m so nerv…”

“Yeah, yeah, lady, I know.  There’s always a reason.  Look, your driving is a hazard.  You need to pay attention to speed limits.  I'm going to recommend that you attend traffic school.  Now, give me your license and registration.”

“Pig,” I thought as I offered up a card that displayed the world’s ugliest photo.   He scrutinized the photo and then my face.  “Yes, road cop, that crone is actually me.”

“Mr. Officer, I can’t seem to find my registration. I'm going to see if it’s in the glove compartment (did he just growl?).”  Wads and wads of papers exploded out of the small cavern and covered the seat.  I began sorting through the pile trying to spot the missing document. Eventually, I looked up and smiled at the traffic cop.  He grimaced back.  

“What’s this?” I wondered.  I pulled from the rubble an official looking unopened enveloped addressed to me.  The return address showed that it came from a major publishing house.  Months earlier I had sent queries to various publishers.  I never heard from them and assumed they were uninterested.

 Eagerly, I tore open the envelope forgetting about the man who drummed his fingers on my window.  “Dear Ms. Watson,” it began.  Well, my heart pounded as I read on.  “We have reviewed your manuscript.  We think it fits our needs and would like to discuss a contract.  Please contact…”

“What?  What?  Oh my gosh!  Oh my gosh!  This is so amazing!  How could I have missed this before? Oh my!  Oh my!”

“Lady, did you find your registration or not?  I don’t have all day!”

“What?  Oh yes, (giggle), imagine that!  It was in my wallet all along.  I guess I was so nerv…”

“Just hand it over please!”

“Oh, yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.  Oh, thank you very much.  It’s so wonderful that you stopped me.  You’ll never know how grateful I am.”

He scratched his head and shook it several times as he wrote my ticket, returned to his patrol car and drove away.  I think he was still shaking his head as he drove off.  “Have a glorious day!” I shouted.  Then I revved up my engine and sped off.