...Speaking of getting sent to jail wearing only a skirt. First Halloween in Orlando, friends and I were traveling from a house party to a downtown dance club. I was driving with my roommate to be Elizabeth, when, in a beer-induced lapse of judgment, I took an illegal turn right in front of several law enforcement officers standing on a corner. Whistle in mouth, one of these gentlemen chased me down the street on foot and waved me over to the curb (no, I don't know why I stopped either). In my most supplicatory manner, I responded to the officer's requests, which included handing over my license, my registration, my proof of insurance and my half-consumed bottle of beer sitting in the cup holder.

Now, over the past few years, I've gotten pretty good at passing field sobriety tests (haven't failed one yet), but the circumstances here were a little different. First, as this was a big party night on a busy street, and my situation showed some promise of improvisational, spontaneous and free entertainment, quite a crowd had begun to gather. Second, I was wearing a hula-girl costume.

In case you're not sure, a "hula-girl" costume consists solely of a pair of sandals, a long dark wig, a grass skirt and a homemade coconut bra (which I had halved unevenly earlier in the day and improperly shaved the husk, causing it to be extremely itchy - as well as lopsided).

It was at about this point, standing on one leg in a dress in front of an enthusiastic crowd that I said to myself: "Oh fuck, I'm going to spend the night in jail wearing nothing but a skirt and homemade bra!" After a public demonstration of how quickly someone can sober up at the prospect of performing the "hula" at the county lock-up, the officer took pity upon me and let me go with a warning.

Lesson? Drag racing is dangerous!