"Step out of the car, miss," the commanding voice cut through the cool autumn night, piercing my hazy state. The sudden glare of bright lights from the squad car blinded me, making it difficult to shake off the buzz on my face. There I stood, merely seventeen years old, scantily dressed in a tight black bodysuit, fishnet stockings, black stilettos, and a frilly black mini skirt adorned with a white apron and cufflinks. "What's the problem, officer? I wasn't speeding through Old Town tonight, was I?" I responded, flashing a smile and attempting to appear cute and likable in my petite French Maid Halloween costume. It was 1:30 a.m., as I sat in my fiery red Pontiac Fiero, I was still unaware of the trouble I had unwittingly just gotten myself into. The officer smiled back and said, "Well, it appears you weren't making full stops at each stop sign, so I decided to pull you over to find out why.” The officer explained exuding confidence, with a hint of swagger and a coy smile on his face. In an attempt to lighten the situation, I chuckled, hoping he would let me off with a warning. However, his female partner for the evening seemed determined to prevent that from happening. I explained to the officer that I had spent the evening working as a hostess at Chadwick's on the Potomac and had not eaten much throughout the day. I suggested that the beers I had after work might have had a more pronounced effect on me as a result.
Following our shift, a group of waitstaff and I decided to cruise into Georgetown to join the remnants of the Halloween celebration in 1985. Joining our festivities was my best friend, Colleen, who wasted no time in immersing herself in the party spirit, celebrating with the fervor of the Irish on St. Patrick's Day. With my friend hiccuping and occupying the passenger seat of my attention-grabbing little red car, I realized trouble was brewing.
As I attempted to walk in my mother's black pumps, swaying and staggering and failing the heel-to-toe test, I knew that my predicament had taken a turn for the worse. The officer peered into my car and inquired if Colleen was capable of driving. Without missing a beat, she confidently responded, "Yeah, I got this." With a sudden burst of enthusiasm, she swung open the car door and embarked on a peculiar sight. Dressed as a leprechaun, she paraded around the front of the vehicle, wearing only one shoe, adding a touch of whimsy to the already surreal situation. Quickly thinking on my feet, I reassured the officer that a group of mischievous Georgetown University boys had playfully snatched Colleen's shoe to play football with while we were leaving the bar, and it had been lost on the street. To my surprise, the officer seemed to find the explanation perfectly acceptable. With a thumbs up and a friendly pat on the hood, he gave his approval for Colleen to take the wheel, and off she went, driving my car into the night.
