Heather and I, strangers to western North Carolina, were merrily proceeding in an easterly direction when police lights appeared in our rear-view mirror and we heard a siren.
Heather said, "Oh oh, he got me speeding! [Expletives sadly deleted!]"
So, after we stopped and were approached by the minion of Law and Order, she turned on her charm, and hyperaccentuated her Southern accent. The sheriff's deputy seemed to be mollified by such a charming lady, and was about to let us off with a just warning, but then he noticed resting on the back seat the two six-packs of really good beer we had purchased in Asheville before we left.
Our deputy said, rather apologetically, "I'm sorry, Misses, but I'll have to cite you both for V.P.L. offenses!"
A V.P.L. offense? Now what was that? Being strangers from states used to alcohol, we had not been informed as to the phenomenon of dry counties, where you cannot possess alcoholic beverages, and he had us dead to rights. A V.P.L. offense refers to "Violation of Prohibition Law."
But we got off, because in our naiviety, one of us said, "That's impossible, officer. I'm wearing a thong."
The officer walked away, quite amused. As a matter of fact, he was laughing! It was a while before we learned that we were not about to be cited for a fashion misdemeanor!
We're both blondes.
Road Trip; the little guy
28 minutes ago