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The weekend of the Miami v. Temple game, a friend from college rode to Philadelphia with me. He is one of those DC commuter people who are perfectly happy not owning a vehicle. As long as they have their blackberry, iPod, and metro, they are content. I suppose I am a bit more high maintenance as I like to be able to drive to Church, to the grocery store, to the dog park...or (I suppose) to work. This friend I was never particularly tight with. I know him via my sister, brother-in-law, and all my other college friends that were older than me. I was a few years behind most of these people and they became inherited friends when I attended the same college and ran with the same circle as my sister. Even so, all of us will always have one thing in common - our obsession with Miami Hurricane football (47-17 this weekend baby!) Therefore, I agreed to give this friend a ride to see the U.

On the way home from up north, he told me it would be best to drive through the city to drop him off at his apartment in Rosslyn. He looked at a map and decided the most direct route would be to take highway 50 to Interstate 395. I had never driven through this part of the District before. I rarely drive through the District as it is. I get lost every single time and there is no place to park and the drivers are worse than they are in Miami. I asked my friend what the speed limit was, because I had no idea, but as he does not have a vehicle, he did not know what the speed limit was either. I ended up just going with the flow of traffic, I assume it is rare in that area to be able to drive the speed limit anyway, but the traffic was light since this was a Sunday evening. Amazingly, I made it to his apartment and back to my place with no problems. I didn't get lost or anything...it was great.

Last Tuesday evening when I got home from work, I stopped by my mailbox as usual to pick up the bills and coupons (since that's all that's ever in there). I was on the phone with my father, so I had the cell phone propped on my shoulder as I unlocked the box and flipped through the stack to throw out the junk. I noticed an envelope that said Metropolitan Police on it. I thought this was strange and my first thought was that they were trying to collect money through the mail now rather than calling people at home and making them feel guilty about saying, "NO! I don't want to help support the Police department!" Then I noticed that underneath the logo, it read "D.C. Photo Enforcement." My mind raced as I tried to remember if I had run any red lights recently but I could have sworn they took all the red light cameras out because they were too expensive to upkeep.

I tore open the envelope and saw 3 pictures of my car. As I read more closely, it was a flipping speeding ticket! For a flipping one hundred bucks! I looked at the date, October 16, and it took me a good 30 minutes to remember what the heck I was in DC on a Sunday night for. It was at a time that I am normally at Frontline, so it made no sense. I never remembered being in the Third Street Tunnel ever...let alone on a Sunday night. Then it all came back to me. Driving through DC to drop my friend off in Rosslyn. Apparently the speed limit...on the interstate...was only 45 mph. The radar photo thingamajig clocked me going 62 mph. The kicker is if I had been clocked at 60 mph, the ticket would have only been for $50.

I am never driving in DC again.