Today I got to experience my first ever DUI test!

I often turn off my headlights (leaving only the parking lights) if I'm the first car in line at a stoplight, to keep from blinding the cars waiting on the other side of the intersection (and I wish other people would do the same — especially people in tall SUVs and pickup trucks). Apparently, though, the police are not so impressed with my thoughtfulness. Tonight as the light turned green I turned my headlights on and started driving, only to have the car behind me turn his blue lights on. I pulled over once we were through the intersection, and I saw five other cop cars pull to a stop all around me. I'm always impressed when the police devote those kinds of resources to stopping me. It's kind of flattering.

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Today I had restless sleep, and that often seems to lead to interesting dreams. Or perhaps it's just the waking up at odd hours that lets me remember them. I'd be kind of concerned to discover that these kinds of things are going on in my unconscious mind every night and I'm just not aware of them. Although it'd explain a lot.

This time I dreamt that I was wandering around some kind of university or apartment complex somewhere in the US, and I realized I was close to the apartment where Tony and his girlfriend lived (My awake self doesn't recognize who his girlfriend was, though apparently in the dream I was friends with her).

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Tonight's excursion ran the gamut from relaxing to exciting. Inspired by a photographer I came across on Flickr, I set out tonight to find a dark beach to take photos illuminated by the nearly full moon. The problem is that on this crime-infested island, the adjectives 'dark' and 'desolate' pretty much by definition bring 'dangerous' in tow. I debated with myself whether someplace deserted far away from the city would be more or less safe than a beach in a more populated area ("Why would anyone with ill intent waste their time walking around on a beach far away from civilization," I reasoned). In the end, I opted for the former, and headed out to the long, dark road that runs along the beach on the way to Dorado.

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Andrés and I made a midnight run to Walgreens to pick up a prescription my parents had dropped off earlier for my mom. On the way out of the parking lot, some guy in an SUV waves his hands and flags me down. Suspicious, I stop and roll down my window (inconspicuously shifting into first). He tells me he's got a magnetic oil plug for my car and asks if I want to buy it. I say no thanks. He explains that he's go an Evo as well, but it's in the shop getting painted. I nod my approval and drive off.

A minute later, I pull up to a stoplight where a cop has pulled someone over. I joke to Andrés that it'd be funny if I got pulled over, since my renewed license is supposed to be available tomorrow. A knock at the window. The cop asks me to pull in front of his car.

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You know those roads that are marked with an unrealistically low speed limit, and everyone sort of ignores? Like the section of Hwy. 76 that passes through Clemson, which is marked 35mph but is basically a highway deserving of something like 55mph. Or Kennedy Expressway in PR, marked 45mph but is a long, straight road with no exits or on-ramps. I usually drive 65mph on Kennedy and it feels completely comfortable.

Tonight on the way home from dropping Liz off at her hotel in San Juan, I was making my way back on Kennedy at 2:30am. The only other car on the road was a cop car with lights blazing, as they always are here. Naturally, I matched his speed, but the lights were pretty much blinding me, so I nudged forward until I was just in front of him. He then got on the loudspeaker and said, "You're going faster than 40, you know."

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