So the bar exam is next week, huh?

I thought it was this week, and then when my office started scheduling interviews for a new attorney (yay for underlings!) for Tues, Wed, and Thurs, I piped up with "Um, people are taking the bar exam this week!" and was then informed that the bar exam is in fact next week and I am clearly an idiot.

An idiot who passed two bar exams, though. And believe me, if I could do it, so can you!

Picture it. Third weekend of July 2006. I had to get out of my apartment in Boston (and my two crazy bar studying roommates), so I drove to my parents' house a couple of hours away. Where I proceeded to alternate between studying, screening frantic phone calls (whatever you do, do NOT compare your last minute study habits to others or you will drive yourself crazy) and eating whatever wholesome goodness my mother cooked for me.

Saturday afternoon, I fell asleep in the backyard while going over some outline or another for the thousandth time. And I got a sunburn. Yes, I was tanning. Hey, two birds, one stone. But I didn't mean to fall asleep. No one came to check on me for hours because they thought I was studying and didn't want to be bothered. Yeah. I'm pretty sure they just couldn't stand being around me by that point, for which I can't blame them.

Nearly thirty-six hours and a bottle of aloe vera later, I drove back to Boston in order to get on Amtrak on Monday and head to NYC for the first two days of the exam. Somewhere on the MA Turnpike, there he was. The police officer whom I will love forever.

Here's the thing. I um, didn't realize the officer was pulling me over. For, oh, a good three to four minutes. Going nearly 85 in a 65 zone. There were flashing lights. Don't ask me why or how I didn't realize I was being pulled over. I just didn't. My thoughts, inexcusably, were elsewhere. Eventually I realized what was happening, nearly peed in my pants, and pulled over immediately.

When he walked up to my window, I could tell he was expecting a confrontation. Instead of giving him one, I immediately burst into tears and began apologizing profusely. In between my sniffles and pleas regarding how I was broke, so so broke, and could he make it a small ticket, and his "Ma'am, it's ok, calm down", I must have gotten to him. He pointed at the Barbri books scattered on the back seat, and asked when the exam was. "Two days," I replied.

I didn't get a ticket. He told me to slow down and take it easy, wished me luck on the exam, and proceeded to get into his cruiser and take off....into my heart forever.

Moral of the story? If, between now and the start of your bar exam, you find yourself in a situation totally of your own making, and you would never otherwise stoop to such a level, I give you permission to MILK IT FOR ALL IT'S WORTH.

The end.

P.S. The Dark Knight? Effing awesome. Witnessing an assault at a NYC multiplex because some "fucking ho!" (his words, not mine) wouldn't get in the back of the line? Priceless.

P.P.S. This? Double effing awesome!