Bieber Fever

There’s days that I am EXTREMELY happy to be a woman. Most days, actually, but some days that happiness level gets bumped up a little bit more. Yesterday was such a day.

After being cooped up in the house for way too long again work-wise (darn lockdown! <-obligatory COVID remark) I get to drag my ass to the office twice this week. Much yay! Seeing people! Whoop! (slight undertone of sarcasm there). So I found myself stepping into the car at 07:25 a.m. yesterday morning, slightly annoyed at the earliness of it, to get to the office. And put on a playlist to perk up the cheer-levels a lottle (it’s like a little…but a lot).

Painting the picture for you here:
There’s me in the car of doom with my Spotify playlist cranked up to the max on my phone (BECAUSE NO RADIO). Dressed up in an office-worthy little getup (aka a gorgeous dress I’ve always loved, and stilettos) with my hair actually turned into more than an indoors curl-explosion and a fresh face of make-up on. Ready for a day of pretending to be a professional. Drumming on the steering wheel, dancing in my seat and just having a good time screaming along to the lyrics of whatever is playing. Because it’s early and I gotta get charged for dealing with people all day.

Adding another layer of paint:
My way to work takes me through a very picturesque scene with a winding road through a lottle of fields. Even at the ‘everybody is going to work‘ hours it’s still not that crowded with traffic so I can focus all of my attention on my solo karaoke performance. And when the music switches from Kelly Clarkson ‘Because of you‘ (which provides MAXIMUM belting-along potential) to my love Justin Bieber – you can imagine me switching from singer to dancer. Grinder, more like.

I know (especially at my age) Justin Bieber should be a guilty pleasure. A hidden away preference that I only indulge in when alone and unseen. Not for me, folks, not for me. I share my love of the Biebs anywhere and everywhere. And my very favorite number is ‘Confident‘, mostly because the accompanying video clip just pushes all my ‘hothothot!’ buttons. Shameless swagwalking and bad-pickup-line-smoothness just….work for me. ‘I would like to taki to you on the phone…’

Aaaaanyway. Here I am in my car, grinding into my carseat to the tune of my Bieber Fever. And I COMPLETELY miss the traffic light that I am so used to ignoring (because it’s usually too early or too late when I drive past it, and it’s usually blinking orange).

And then things happen in slow-motion. First my hand claps over my mouth in comical shock when I realize I just ran a red light while I’m still halfway through an impressive chestroll-arm-swish. Then I slowly swerve my head to the right to check if no one saw – only to stare STRAIGHT into the eyes of an equally surprised looking cop, in a cop car, whose light was obviously green at my red. He literally cocks his head to the side, with brows quizzically raised as I zoom by, in full shock. And proceeds to pull in behind me.

Now. You should know that I’ve always been on an interesting divide when it comes to cops. First of all, they scare the crap out of me. When I’m in a car driving, and see a cop: I freeze up. I quickly check my belt, my mirrors, my passenger seat to see if all the wodka bottles are hidden…you know what I mean. I ALWAYS feel like I must be doing wrong and panic spikes that ‘they might be coming for me‘. Which makes no sense because (well, other than this occasion) I’m a total goody two-shoes driver, except for speed limits. And this fear then mixes in with the entirely opposite side: Cops are hot. But that’s just because…you know…uniforms. I’m a typical girl when it comes to the power of uniforms. Yummy! ‘Sure you can search me, officer!‘.

But this time – when he pulls me over – I’m ONLY in that fear corner. Mostly because I KNOW that I did something wrong. So I roll down my window, and wait for him to walk up, resigned to my fate and the ticket I’m about to get. I don’t even have to pretend to be rueful, I’m sure my face shows exactly how sorry I am.

So this guy walks up and leans into the window.
‘Dat was nogal een rood he‘ (That was quite a red light, wasn’t it?) he starts off. I (of course) am quick to admit it. Meanwhile my phone next to me is still blaring hard (goddamn R. Kelly – Cookie). ‘Beetje afgeleid, zeker?‘ he says semi-smiling. I see a chance, and I nod and then decide that I’m just gonna go with the Dutch saying ‘Eerlijkheid duurt het langst‘ (Truth lasts longest). ‘Justin Bieber he…daar MOET gewoon op gedanst worden…‘ (It was Justin Bieber….you can’t help but dance) I shrug apologetically.

This cop proceeds to look my 31 year old self up and down with a genuine grin while I push back once on my phone so Confident reboots (like I had anything to prove, anyway). And then he goes: ‘Zullen we het dan maar op een waarschuwing houden, en volgende keer beter opletten?‘ (What do you think we just keep it to a warning then, and pay better attention next time?).

I don’t have to point out how happy those words made me. Because the 240€ ticket could be much more interestingly spent for sure. And now I’ll forever have the story of how Justin Bieber almost got me a ticket. And then got me out of it.
(Or it totally was the very tight dress and my being a girl . But that doesn’t matter for the playback in my head.)