At least the baby didn't end up in jail

Long story short: The cops were at our house. Jason ended up in handcuffs.

Looks like I've got your attention now.

Sunday morning started out easy, Easy like Sunday Morning. Especially so since Finn spent his first overnight at his grandparents. I woke up at 7, as usual, and was able to watch a movie (Year of the Dog- it was okay) with my morning coffee in peace and quiet. Jason slept in with just enough time to get his bearings before he was off to the Raiders game with some buddies.

It was raining and figuring Jason's car would be safer in the rain I took the Land Rover to go pick up Finn. We had a little lunch and then he fell asleep in the car on the way home. I spotted the CHP behind me on the freeway while I was busy thinking of all of the things I would get done while my little angel napped. I noticed the CHP follow me as I exited. "Hmm, that's interesting," I thought. Two blocks from my house I saw the red lights. One block from my house they started flashing. "Is he seriously pulling me over. WTF? I wasn't speeding." Since I was a block from my house I decided to lead him all the way to my driveway. Of course, he didn't know where I lived so, on his loud speaker for all of my neighbors to hear, he instructs me to pull over to the right and stop the car. I ignored him and made a left into my driveway. But I hopped out of my car and quickly explained that this was my house. Thankfully he spotted sleeping Finn and his demeanor softened immediately.

It turns out that the sticker on Jason's license plate expired in May, before we bought the car. I was able to find the current registration but no new sticker. He left without even giving me a fix it ticket. I didn't get off completely scot free. I'm sure the neighbors will be giving me weird looks for a while.

After the commotion, I put sleeping Finn in his crib for the rest of his nap and went about my chores. Around 1:45 the phone rang. It was Jason. "I've got good news and bad news," he says. "Let me guess," I reply. "You are coming home early but I have to pick you up at the Bart station." I wasn't that surpised that he was ditching the game and his friends 45 minutes after kick-off. It was raining and Jason hates to be uncomfortable like that (remember the WWJD post). So I wake up my sleeping Finn, pack him up in the car and head off to the Fremont Bart station.

I relay my CHP story to Jason on our drive home. We have some laughs. Then he tells me the real reason he left the game early. He got kicked out of the game. Seriously. Although, again, I'm not that surprised. "Geez. Did you start a fight? Shank some guy in the men's room? Throw beer at a referree?" Turns out Jason threw a couple of empty peanut shells at some Patriots fans in front of him. The targeted Patriots fans didn't notice but an usher with a misplaced sense of power and authority did.

Off to the security room he went, manned by some of Oakland's finest. They apologized when they put him in handcuffs per protocol. The cops wondered what to do with my perp husband. Should he go straight to the big house? Get a fine? Send him back to his seat with some hot cocoa and a warning? They deferred to the usher who decided that since it's against the rules to throw stuff at a Raiders game (what, like chairs or people?) he should be thrown out of the game. Between the ordeal, the freezing cold, and the fact that the Raiders were down 21 to 0, Jason was ready to go home. One more piece of bad news. The cops had to escort him out, handcuffed, and the Bart exit was the furthest one from their security station. Jason walked half-way around the Coliseum in handcuffs as some fans pleaded for his release (he was wearing an A's cap so thus he must be an Oakland fan) and others taunted him. "When you throw peanuts you have to deal with comments from the peanut gallery," commented one of the police escorts.

Anyway, that's the story of our family's encounter with law enforcement yesterday. Maybe we'll be on Cops someday.