I was still living at home rushing to be back on time for curfew. I was in a town at least 10 miles away from home where it seemed there were endless stop signs. The first time I stopped, the second stopped very briefly, the third slowed down to a roll but by the fourth, I barely touched the brakes.

The police officer pulled me over and gave me a $110 ticket. He had seen my progressive change from full stop to non-stop so I had no excuses.

That was probably more than 15 years ago. (I shudder to think that I’m that old now.) While I visited my mother a couple of weeks ago, she pulled out an old porcelain cookie jar where she keeps all sorts of old notes.

She read me a heartfelt letter of apology that I had left on the kitchen table when I got home late at night after the incident. It outlined in excruciating detail how I should be punished for my traffic transgression. I don’t that I was ever punished in the end. My parents usually spared the rod despite being staunchly religious. That’s probably why I like a little punishment from my partners as an adult now.

The police officer that pulled me over was dressed in a proper uniform and driving a typical police cruiser. Meanwhile, WFTV News of Florida reports that in West Palm Beach, an undercover cop has a different approach to apprehending traffic violators. He dresses in drag and sits near a stoplight watching for people who try running it.

He looks to be a huge black man so his getup is none to convincing but somehow it seems to work. He has also dressed as a utility pole repairwoman, a surveyor, construction worker and a crazy-acting homeless man. His excuse is that it helps catches drivers off guard.

I think if I saw a 6-foot tall, 200-pound black man (white or any color of guy for that matter) in a dress chasing me on foot, I might speed up instead of pulling over even before he told me he his undercover name is Officer Delicious… Maybe, that’s just me?!