I only tell you this because you may not want to associate with me anymore. After all, I have done the unspeakable, the unthinkable, the dirtiest, nastiest, most vile and contemptible thing; something no self-respecting American would allow themselves to do if they are good of heart and mind, free of depravity and mental disease, or even slightly afraid of the eternal consequences.

    That’s right. I drove my car through an abandoned field.

    Feel free to throw down the paper in disgust, I know I have lost your trust and acceptance for the rest of my days on earth. After all, what could be worse than piloting an automobile through a heretofore undesecrated piece of God’s green earth, mercilessly murdering every innocent blade of grass I had the malevolence to crush the life out of?

    Well, short of murdering kittens using a complex and painful device made of toothpicks and itching powder and selling their bones on the black market, nothing. At least, not in the eyes of the good people at the Aurora Police Department.

    Let me lay it all out for you: June 19, 1999, a day that will live in infamy, at least in my house. The bucolic city of Aurora is celebrating its bicentennial with a Superhuge Party Extravaganza, which basically means fireworks set to music. So, I attend this Extravaganza with my friends Karin and Megan, and it is uneventful, save a chance encounter with my ever-so-lame ex-boyfriend John (who apparently has invented his own role-playing game! Please kill me.)

    Afterwards, while driving Karin home, we come to Harmon Middle School, which is separated from Aurora High School by a big, empty field, which, although I will deny this to anyone who asks me again, and will in fact deny that I ever even attended those schools when pressed by anyone with a badge, I used to drive through on a regular basis. So someone suggests that we do it again, just for old time’s sake, and I say, why not?

    Well, here’s why not. There was a policeman waiting for me on the other side.

    Now, exhibiting a razor sharp intellect and keen desire to look as stupid as humanly possible, I decided to turn the car around and drive in the other direction, confident I hadn’t been spotted, even though I had my brights on and was, one mustn’t forget, driving where there was no road.

    Next to simply ramming my car into the police cruiser, getting out and dancing naked on its hood, this was probably the stupidest thing I could have done. And the cop had no qualms about telling me so.

    "What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded to know. Had I had my wits about me, I would have plead temporary blindness or a rare mental disorder. Instead I found myself unable to speak, capable only of staring straight ahead and emitting high pitched sounds of terror.

    After threatening me and my friends with arrest several times and calling for backup, because you know how threatening three twenty year old girls can be, he demanded my license, which, in another move destined to go down in history as a Very Stupid Thing, I dropped on the ground. Not on purpose, mind you. But the cop just looked at me as if I had urinated on it and tossed it at him. This was not good.

    Well, long story short, nothing ever came of it. The impending doom of potential arrest hung over my head for the rest of the summer, but it never came, probably because it was up to the school board to press charges, and they rarely, if ever, prosecute ex-dorks who helped to win the 1995 Mac-8 Quiz Bowl Championship (my participation in which, for the record, was John’s idea.) I didn’t even make it into the police blotter.

    Which isn’t to say that I’m not still extremely dangerous. And now that I’m back in Ashland, away from the watchful eye of the ever-vigilant Aurora PD, no field is safe!