Saturday, July 22, 2006 1:45 a.m.

License and registration.

Here you go.

Yes ma'am my name is Officer Fife (not his real name) of the Chesapeake Police Department. The reason why I stopped you is because when you drove past me while I was at my last traffic stop I checked your speed with radar and you were doing 9 miles over the speed limit. Then when I turned around and caught up to you, you were driving right on top of the white dotted lines. Any reason why you would be driving like that?

(shrugs) I guess because it's late and I'm not that familiar with the area.

(looks at license again) Where ya headed?

Virginia Beach

Where ya coming from?

AJ Gators

Hmmmm. How much have you had to drank tonight, ma'am.

I haven't had anything to drink.

Nothing at all?

No. I was working at Gator's. I sing there.

Hmmmm. You sang good?

I guess so.

Well, you must if they're paying you to come in there and sang.

I guess.

(hands me back the license and registration) Please drive carefully ma'am

Yes sir

As I drove off I watched from my rear view mirror as he pulled someone else over. I'm not even going to tell you how the scene from the movie Crash flashed through my head as I pulled my car over. Let's just say that I was more than a little scared. And I'm grateful that it didn't escalate into anything crazy. It sucks that those flashing lights and those uniforms automatically instill fear in my heart ... even when I haven't done anything wrong.

Anyway, that was how the night ended. It started with the gig at Gator's. Typical crowd for a Friday night. Subdued and unwinding after the work week. Oh yeah, and drunk. The majority of the crowd were too busy watching television to really pay any attention to us. That was cool with me. We usually classify a night like that as "paid rehearsal".

There was one man though who paid very close attention to us. Every time we started a song this guy was on his feet and dancing. He was about three feet away from me and just dancing. I don't mean a subtle two-step. I mean this cat was moving. Every part of his body was involved in the dance. The guy was about 5'5", with a Denny Terio hairdo, beer belly, man-capris, dirty tennis shoes and white ankle socks. He was moving his hands and his hips and his feet all to the beat of the music. He had some rhythm so he didn't look completely foolish -- well not to me. But to a room full of non-dancing white folks he looked pretty foolish. Besides the fact that Gator's doesn't really have a dance floor. He just picked out a spot in front of us and started moving.

Good times.