I Like Mexican Music

I woke up at a sharp tapping on my car window. It was a policeman. I wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth and straightened my glasses. Time for some quick thinking.

I'd arrived early at LAX airport to pick up my husband. To avoid doing the dreaded loops around the airport, I drove to the entrance of LAX and pulled over to the shoulder of the busy road. I'd wait here until Spike called, telling me he was ready to be picked up. It would be any minute now.

The girls and I had been up since 4:45 am and we were exhausted. A look in the rearview mirror showed four huge blue eyes, primed and ready for a nap. I turned to my fail proof lullaby, the FM Mexican polka music station. The monotonous accordions and wailing vocals never fail to squash any desire to remain conscience. I cranked the volume and we were all fast asleep on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway in no time.

I was jerked from my Latino slumber by a stern police officer tapping the glass. He gestured for me to unroll the window. As I did, a wave of awful music enveloped him. The officer looked with concern at my two daughters, sleeping in the backseat. They hadn't stirred. "Are you alright?" he shouted over the din.
"We're fine!" I yelled back. "I just pulled over here to wait for a flight and I guess we dozed off..."
"This isn't a good place to pull over." He looked pointedly at my motionless girls in the back. "Are you sure everything is okay here?"
"Yep, we're good. I'll wait somewhere else."
He didn't move and again looked into the backseat for signs of life. I considered poking the girls to wake them and prove to this officer that they were actually alive but as a mother, I couldn't break the hallowed code: Never Wake a Sleeping Baby. And I had two of them. I held my ground.

He looked at me skeptically in silence for a few moments. Then he removed his sunglasses and put on his Good Cop routine. He asked gently, "Ma'am, is something going on here? This is a very strange place to pull over. Are you sure you're alright?"
He wasn't going to take no for an answer. "I like Mexican music!" I blurted out in desperation. "But you're right, I should park somewhere else to wait. Thanks for stopping, officer."
My dirty sin confessed, he nodded grimly. With a look of pity at my motionless daughters, he slowly backed away from my car.

When I finally pulled into the airport to pick up Spike, I was surprised to see a dozen police cars blocking the entrance. Apparently there was some kind of man hunt going on - each car entering was being individually inspected. Had the officer called ahead and warned them about me? Would they let me enter? I killed the power on radio, poked the girls awake, and proceeded to the checkpoint with a big, American smile. A cursory nod from an officer and I had passed the barricade.

Oh, the fools! Now I could blare my tacky Mexican music to the swarms at the airport! There would be no escape! HAHAHAHAHAHA...(continue maniacal laughter until the world is utterly destroyed by accordion music). Imbeciles.