This story takes us back to 2005. What a great year. I was in my 20’s and my junior year of college. I was smart enough to have a good idea occasionally, but still dumb enough to do things I shouldn’t. Before we get into the main story I need to give you a little bit of a background information so you know WHY I had such special chocolate chip cookies in my possession.

My sophomore year of college I decided to join a fraternity. I have to say this was one of the best decisions I made during my college career. Many of the stories I have are a direct result of that decision. I’m assuming my fraternity was a lot like every other. You’re a pledge for a while, you do some stuff, then you join as an official member – a brother. Once you finally become a member you think you’re done with all the crap you had to put up with to join. Well, in my fraternity we had a tradition of just one more surprise for our new members (I’m honestly not sure who came up with the idea but it’s genius). The day after you get initiated into the fraternity all the veteran members make a great big dinner for you to celebrate the achievement of transitioning from a pledge to a brother. The kicker is that the entire meal is sabotaged. If the recipe called for sugar, salt was used instead, that sort of thing. No one ever sees it coming and there are some priceless reactions to the experience.

That’s all the background info you need to know, so let’s get into the real story.

I can’t remember why I had gone to my parents house over the weekend, but I was there, I’m sure I was in desperate need of laundry assistance. I decided that I was going to make chocolate chip cookies for the meal. These weren’t going to be just your run of the mill chocolate chip cookies though, they were going to be irresistible. BIG, a little crispy on the edges but still soft on the inside. Perfectly round, browned, and when bit into gave you that satisfying crunch followed by a soft center. I wanted to make these bad boys so good that there was no way you were going to have just one. I’m talking Martha Stewart looking cookies here. So what was the kicker? I replaced all the chocolate chips with Ex-Lax chocolate. Not just a little bit either. I’m talking 4 full pieces per cookie which is 3 more than the suggested serving size. These little devils were going to be perfect.

With my devious, yet magazine cover quality, cookies complete I practically skip out to my car unable to contain my excitement. I might as well have been a 5 year old boy with a bag of candy and fireworks. I ever so delicately set them on the passenger seat of my silver Mustang and pulled out of the driveway for the 3 hour trip back to college. I remember it was warm that day so the windows were down, the breeze was carrying a hint of honeysuckle into the car, and I’m sure 50 Cent was turned up way too loud. I was just bebopping along, grinning from ear to ear.

I have never been a man of patience and this day was no exception. I hadn’t made it 10 miles out of town when I see the red and blue lights flashing behind me. I was being pulled over by one of Oklahoma’s finest.

I get nervous when there’s a cop in sight and I’m not even doing anything wrong. So actually getting pulled over for speeding makes me EXTREMELY nervous. When I get pulled over I’m one of those people who makes himself look more guilty by trying not to look guilty because I haven’t done anything worth going to jail for but I LOOK like I’ve done something that should put me in jail. So there I am sitting in my car for much longer than my brain’s ability to think rationally. Now that the car was parked the breeze from the drive had stopped flowing in. Now what felt like a warm day seemed suddenly sweltering. I wait longer, I wait until I begin sweating. I’m thinking, “did he fall asleep? Is he having seizure? Did he die back there? Did he misread my license plate and pull up a murders car in the FBI database and now he’s calling in helicopter and tank reinforcements? I’m probably going to have to go Jason Bourne on everybody right now to just to prove I’m not a murderer.” That’s kind of how my brain works. It was probably due to the heat and my spiked heart rate but my sweat starts to soak through my shirt. I figure I’ve got no choice here but to start the car back up and get some AC going. Not even a second after my car comes alive I hear Mr. Police Officer Sir on his loud speaker, “Shut Your Vehicle Off NOW!” Yep, he thinks I’m a serial killer. So I shut the car off and wait for the SWAT team to come take me away.

About half a day later the police officer finally decides to get out of his car. I can tell by the look on his face he’s having a bad day and this isn’t going to end well for me. He checks out the back of my car, and comes sneaking up on me, hand on his gun of course. I sit motionless, hands at 10 and 2 because I’m pretty sure they can’t ticket you for not doing that but I’m not 100% sure so I better not chance it. First words from his mouth are “what’s your name boy?” Before I can answer he’s asking for my license and insurance card, apparently the first question was hypothetical. He doesn’t give them back but instead begins to ask me a string of questions, which were also apparently hypothetical, in the most authoritarian voice I’ve ever heard in my life. “Do you think you’re above the law?” “Do you want me to take you to jail right now?” “You probably ain’t got no daddy to teach you that 5 miles an hour over the speed limit is still breaking the law, do ya?”

When I say this guy was being a dick, it’s an understatement. This guy was the Dick, Balls, AND Asshole all rolled together and given a badge and a gun.

In the middle of all the questions that he never intended for me to answer his eye light up and begin to sparkle. They glaze over a little and I can see the tiniest little glisten from the corner of his mouth as his saliva glands begin to kick in at the sight of my magazine-esque cookies sitting in the passenger seat. I finally get a question that had the expectation of being answered, “Are those chocolate chip cookies?” Now that actual dialog could happen, here’s how it went.

Cop: Are those chocolate chip cookies?

Me: Yes sir, they are chocolate chip cookies. Would you like one, officer?

C: I’d love to have one of them cookies.

M: You know what, to show my appreciation for the fine work you do day in and day out to keep our street safe, I want you to have the entire plate.

C: Really? Well I’ve never been one to turn down a chocolate chip cookie.

M: I mean it, you take’em all.

C: Thank you. I appreciate these, here’s your license back.

Then he walks off. No warning, no ticket, no goodbye, nothing. I’m still not sure what to do at this point, not until I see him shut off his lights and drive past me. I’m still confused by what just took place. It doesn’t take long until my confusion is replaced with something else. That feeling you one get when you watch those instant karma videos on the internet. As I take off down the highway again I didn’t mind one bit that I didn’t have anything to bring to that fraternity dinner. I know those cookies served a far better purpose than I ever thought they would have. I can only imagine that after that officer had polished off that plate of cookies he laughed to himself and remembered the look on my face when he called me boy. Then that laugh was met with a sudden, unexpected pain that told him he was much too far from any bathroom to make it in time.