Scene
Ext: Hwy 141

Because luck is something we’ve never experienced, naturally,we got pulled over on the way home for having trailer lights out.  When packing up for  Sunday’s shoot, the trailer had popped off the truck, and destroyed the socket for the trailer.

Now, just to set the scene for you, we’re both exhausted, Karen is slathered in fake blood, we have 4 canoes and camera equipment, props wardrobe, sound equipment all packed into the truck, and the lights kick on. So I pull over to the shoulder and park. As the tired wears off, and I start to realize how this might look.

“Sir, did you know your trailer lights are out?”
“Yes sir, the socket for the trailer got ripped off, when we were packing up to come home.”  Karen hands me the socket, and I hold it out to the officer, who takes it examines it quickly, and hands it back.

“Do you have your drivers license and proof of insurance?”
I hand him my liscense, and my insurance card.

“Sir this is expired”
Oh shit… is what goes through my head.
Karen takes the card from his hands, and glances at it. “Oh, this is the old card, but the information on it is correct.”

The officer stands back. He rests his hand on his hip. Yes… right about where his gun is.
“Ma’am… What’s wrong with your hands?”
I can physically feel my heart push up into my throat.

Karen says “Oh, no. I’m fine. It’s fake blood.”
The officer furrows his brow.
“We’re making a movie…” she says.

He gets that ‘yeah, right’ look on his face. Relaxes a bit.

“Is that marijuana I smell in the vehicle?”
It occurs to me, that there’s a filter from a cigarette burning in the ashtray, and her and I both have been standing over a fire in the middle of nowhere, and a lot of the stuff in the truck is a bit soggy…. it actually does kind of smell like marijuana in the car…. oh fuck.

“No sir. I was just smoking a cigarette. But you’re welcome to search the truck if you’d like.”
He shines the flashlight around the truck.

“Have you ever been arrested sir?”

Can’t wait to see exactly how I look in an orange jumpsuit. Thank god James is a lawyer…

“um… nope.”

“Just wait right here.”
He walks back to his car.

I can only imagine the scenarios he’s putting together in his head:

I beat my wife whenever we go canoing…
No.
We’re stealing canoes, and she cut her hand during our speedy getaway…
No.
Karen is an axe-murderer who targets people canoeing, and I help bury the bodies, and she keeps the canoes as trophies.
That’s it! That’s what we’re getting booked for.

“Where’s the script and the storyboards?”
“Right here?”
“Good!”

A few very tense minutes pass. He comes back. “Here’s your license sir.”

“We really are making a movie.” I hold the script and storyboards up. He takes them and flips the binders open, then hands them back.  He realizes we really are telling the truth. “I’m not going to give you a ticket, but you might get one from someone else on the way home.”  I say thank you and shake his hand.  He could have been a jerk.  He could have gone through everything in the truck, and left us out in the cold to repack it.  So, here’s a big thank you to the Manchester officer who’s name I was too freaked out to get.  I’m sure he had the best story at the station Sunday night, at least in Manchester.

When he walks back to his car, I release the brake, and pull off. And as soon as we’re back on the road, Karen and I both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

But even this isn’t the funniest story from this Sunday…