At the beginning of 2013 I started a job with the National Outdoor Leadership School as a Marketing Representative. This job required me to plan, travel and execute lengthy ‘tours’ all over the US on my own and promote outdoor education and leadership through public speaking as well as tabling at outdoor adventure expos. Pretty exiting job for a 22 year old. By March I had already gone on a ‘training tour’ with my boss to Illinois and Wisconsin, so when it came time to go on my first ‘solo tour’ in Idaho, I was thrilled to get on the road, and catch a ski run or two in Sun Valley.

Usually we would fly to our destinations, as Lander WY, where NOLS is headquartered, is in general, really far from the major populations of the United States. Since I was assigned to go to Idaho though, driving was an economical choice. I chose to drive my own truck and be reimbursed for mileage instead of taking a company car, because at the time, I had a personal vendetta against Subarus and would not be caught dead in one. Driving for NOLS was a big deal, it was part of the hiring procedure to obtain a driving record as the insurance policy states that someone 23 or younger driving a company vehicle could have no more than one violation… I had one speeding ticket on record, and was told, “One more, and you’ll be fired.”

Early Saturday morning, I left Lander to head west for Idaho. The night before, I had reluctantly agreed to give an intern, Joan, a lift to Targhee ski mountain, outside of Driggs ID to meet with some friends of hers. I didn’t mind Joan as a person but I can’t stand road trips with other people. I prefer to hardcore jam out to crazy classic country music and chain smoke Marlboro lights without having to consider another human being’s horrible music taste or their ideals on air quality.

The speed limit in Wyoming is usually 65 almost everywhere, except I 80, where the speed limit is IF THERE’S NOT A BLIZZARD, WHO CARES! Most roadways are two lane and, as you can imagine, wildlife is abundant, so the speed is appropriate, but the state is not small by any means, so the temptation to pick up the pace can be challenging. About an hour into the drive, Joan and I were dropping into Dubois, an area where there are a few significant hills and turns on the southeastern part of the town. I guess I had not had enough coffee to drink that morning, combined with the volume and continuous nature of my new acquaintance’s jokes… but I was ready to deliver her to her destination and get on with my curmudgeon self. Descending a hill, I passed a Wyoming state Trooper who immediately turned around and pulled me over. Before I decelerated, my odometer needle breached the 90 mph tick mark and I could feel my stomach making waves toward my mouth.

“What in the hell are you doing?” asked the painfully attractive state Trooper.

“I’m sorry, I’m from Texas, I’m not used to hills and everyone drives really fast down there!” was the carefully chosen defense I offered.

The Trooper didn’t quite find me as charming as I had hoped… and after he returned from his flashing vehicle he handed over a ticket and the rest of the paperwork.

Officer James Dean leaned in the window and said, “Look, I’m gonna do you a favor.. I wrote you up for 89 instead of 90. You are aware that speeding 25 miles over the limit qualifies as reckless endangerment?” The fact that I could lose my job hit suddenly, and I began to cry and plead with the Trooper that I could lose my job if I had a ticket on my record. I must have looked insanely desperate because, surprisingly, the Trooper scoffed and said, “Well if you had told me that I wouldn’t have written the ticket!” Horrified, I drove onto Idaho. Eventually, my employer would get a notification from the company insurance and I would be fired. I felt like such a little shit, but Joan thought it was hilarious, which really fueled my internal dialogue and made matters worse.

I dumped Joan up at the ski mountain, and continued to panic for the next two weeks. When my tour was over, I made no mention of the ‘speeding incident’ during my tour review with my boss. In a 6,000 person town, lawyers are pretty few and far between and the ones that do exist surely cover an odd array of legal issues, so I wasn’t sure how my complaint would sound when I called and requested legal counsel for a speeding ticket. The lawyer was pretty reluctant to involve himself in petty issues, but he must have been strapped for work because he agreed to take on this big case of mine.

During a lunch hour, I hurriedly shuffled across the Main Street of this ‘one street town’, in attempt to not be seen entering the office of one of the two lawyers in town. The office felt like a poorly designed cave, the man looked miserable and his thumbs both pointed outwardly in a confusing kind of way. I was pretty uncomfortable when I introduced myself and wrote the 400 dollar retainer check.

“I charge 100 dollars an hour. And honestly, I will probably spend about half an hour on this case, despite court appearances, so you will get the majority of this retainer back.”

Mr. Lawyer sent in the paperwork challenging my traffic violation and we were set to attend court about a month later. The county seat for Fremont county is Riverton Wyoming, a pretty shitty little town where the center piece is a city park, occupied by homeless alcoholic/meth addicted natives. All of the reservations in Fremont county have huge problems with drugs, violence and alcoholism. Its a pretty sad ordeal, but it is also pretty nerve racking. If the BIA (Bureau of Indian Affairs) arrests and legal issues that occur on the reservations were included in the jurisdiction of the county… Fremont county would be one of the most dangerous places in the US to live. But as it is, reservations are not a part of US Federal regulations, ie. the reason they are allowed to have Casinos, therefore, the county and the reservations are not managed in the same political manner. This being said, these kind of violent and criminal activities do occur off of the reservation land somewhat often, and if this is the case, these incidents are tried in the Fremont County Court System.

The courthouse in Riverton was surrounded by shipping containers. Seriously, it had makeshift shipping container ‘walls’ because someone had done a drive-by shooting a few weeks earlier. My lawyer and I walked in through security and entered the courthouse. I was extremely nervous, then I saw the bullet holes on the wall behind where the Judge sat, so any amount of confidence I had until that point became trifle. Looking around the room, I noticed that other than being one of only a few white people, I was the only client seated that didn’t look like I had maybe just murdered someone. Mr. Lawyer didn’t do much to ease my discomfort, and in fact, he seemed almost as uncomfortable as me.

Court proceedings began, and the unexpected happened. Instead of hearing the proceedings of petty crimes first, it seemed they began with the most violent and insane ones.

“Mr. BadMarriage, how do you plead to the crime of Driving under the Influence and the reckless murder of your niece, Hopping Deer, by Vehicle?” — not guilty.

“Mr. Stephens, how do you plead to the crime of Rape and Murder of your second cousin?” — not guilty.

“Miss RedEagle, Mr. King, and Mr. Antelope how do you plead to the charge of Larceny in the case of the stolen sandwich of Walmart.” — not guilty.

“Mrs. AngryBear how do you plead to Disturbing the Peace, Public Intoxication and possession of an illegal substance?” — not guilty.

This went on for what felt like hours, until I heard it, “The State of Wyoming vs. Meredith Hardwick. You may approach.”

Fumbling my way up there, I suddenly forgot if I was supposed to say guilty or not guilty, so when asked how I plead against my speeding ticket, I kind of shakily spat out sounds that resembled the phrase “Not Guilty.”

As soon as my case was announced I could feel my court mates laughing at this ridiculous little white girl complaining about a speeding ticket. It was all too embarrassing, and I felt like the court secretary made me appear last for a reason, just to punish me for being such a little princess. Luckily this was where my lawyer could step in and introduce the fact that I was a good citizen that volunteered and was a member of the Benevolent and Protective Order of the Elks, as well as the whole risk of losing her job thing.

“Miss Hardwick. We do not have a defensive driving course in Wyoming and a traffic fine will be reflected on your record. However. I will offer that if you complete a course called “Don’t Die, Under 25″ I will consider expunging this charge from your record.”

I didn’t know what “Don’t Die, Under 25” was but I agreed to attend the course and pay a nominal fee, for his consideration. I completed the class within the next month, which was basically a DUI prevention course, and presented my course completion certificate at a much tamer court hearing. I received my pardon, bid my lawyer adieu, kept my job and have never driven over the speed limit since.