Red Light Rendezvous

I ran my first red light yesterday.

Well, OK. Not my first. But this was the first time I ran a red light and a camera flashed in my face.

Twice.

I was on my way to the gym, and normally, I'm not speeding to get there. But at the particular intersection I bolted through, if you get stuck, it feels like an eternity before you get a green light again. You try doing nothing for 3 minutes. It's hard. So, it's not that I was in a hurry so much as I was fighting against boredom.

In any case, I ran the damn light and felt incredibly guilty immediately afterward.

I skulked into the gym--confessing to the man behind the counter what I'd just done.

"Hi there," he said.
"Hi," I answered, handing over my card to get scanned.
"How are you doing tonight?" he asked, clearly just looking for small talk.
I erupt.
"Not great, actually. I just ran a red light. And I'm sure they took my picture. And I'm about 10 days away from having the accident I got into two years ago removed from my record--only I've messed it all up because of that stupid intersection about 2 blocks down."
"Oh, bummer," he replies.
"It is a bummer," I say.
He hands my card back.
"Well, have a nice workout," he smiles, obviously not wanting to engage me further.

Can you blame him?

So I do my little hour on the treadmill. There are signs posted everywhere that say the maximum time on cardiovascular machines is 30 minutes. But no one was waiting. And since I'd already broken the actual law, I had little to no trouble rationalizing my increasingly devient behavior.

After I was through I exited through the back and began my sojourn to the car. When I opened the door to the parking lot I saw three cop cars and 8 cops outside my gym.

Oh. My. God. I thought to myself. They're here for me.

I caught eyes with a few of them and they smiled. They made no movement toward me and they weren't waiting by my vehicle. Strange.

Just wait, I continued. When they see you get in the Cadillac, they'll ask why you were in such a rush that you felt the need to endanger the lives of everyone else at the intersection.

But they didn't.

I got into my car. I turned over the engine. I drove out of the parking lot. And the cops didn't care. I don't even think they noticed me.

I was safe.

But was the rest of Solana Beach?

Doubtful.

Afterall, there are maniacs like me roaming the streets--and the entire city police force is apparently on a perpetual coffee break in a gym parking lot.