So, I'm heading out to the first freeway of my commute today, and the traffic on the street is terrible. Really, really awful. I was leading an evening workshop and was coming in later than usual because I'd be staying later than usual, but still—it was 2:00 in the afternoon. The drive from my house to the freeway normally only takes about five minutes, so I figure I can't possibly be stuck that long. After moving about 2 blocks in 10 minutes, I see a sign:

LAW ENFORCEMENT
ACTIVITY
IN PROGRESS.
Well, hell, I think to myself. What do they have going on here? A sobriety checkpoint? If so, just how many people do they think they're going to catch on a Wednesday at 2:00? I meditate on the manifest inefficiency of my local police force for a time while periodically pressing the gas pedal to move a foot and a half forward.

About two blocks later, I see another sign:

CALIFORNIA DRIVER'S LICENSE
CHECKPOINT AHEAD
At least this means there isn't some sort of standoff that's lasted so long they've put signs up, I think. Then, I glance over towards my bag. Was my wallet in it? Of course not! I was thinking about the workshop I would be leading in the evening, and I managed to pack several books, a folder full of handouts, a bag of cough drops, a nice selection of pens, and three different tubes of lipstick. I did not, however, manage to pack my wallet.

Clearly, the only thing I could do was turn around. I really wasn't that far from home, and I had left plenty of time to get to my destination, so arriving late wouldn't be a huge problem. I hang a u-ey. And then, I see the fucker. "Christ on a bike," I think to myself, only this biker was not Christ at all.

As it turns out, hanging a u-ey right before you reach a police checkpoint is a clear indicator that you have six pounds of blow stashed away in your trunk and are angling for a spot on "America's Funniest High-Speed Chases." So, mister cop-man pulls me over, and I explain that I live four blocks away and was turning around to get my driver's license, which I accidentally left at home. Mister cop-man eyes me suspiciously and asks if I have any ID on me. I respond that I have an expired University of California Alumni Association card, and that I might be able to find something from Petco with my name on it. He looks at me in disgust. "But I do actually know my driver's license number," I added hopefully. It now amuses me that I didn't even consider turning down my stereo, which was set to a station playing "We Are the Champions" at the time of my bureaucratic setback.

So, I got a ticket. Mister cop-man eyed my trunk and glowered, but he seemed impressed that I had memorized my driver's license number, and everything he saw when he punched that number into his system seemed to be in order. Since sharp memory + whiteness + an address that really is four blocks away = 2 ounces of blow in the trunk at most, he didn't search me. He would have found some awfully nice--and very empty--envelopes.

The workshop went just fine. If you're looking for materials to give students when you're talking about the revision process, I have some that might be useful. If you're looking for ways to avoid California Driver's License Checkpoints, I can't help you.