For those of us who have had the pleasure of being pulled over by a police officer, it’s probably one of the most frightening experiences ever.

Well, that is unless you’ve been pulled over a few more times, like I have. It’s not like 35 times or anything excessive, but it’s enough where it just angers me like nothing else to see those stupid red and blue flashing lights behind me.

I can handle dealing with officer “Bacon.” That doesn’t bother me. Cops are, for the most part, cocky little drama queens who act like they have something jammed up their posterior. I swear, every one of them has this irritating “I’m holier than thou” attitude that makes you want to kick them — you know where — and watch them roll around on the ground in agonizing pain as you’re driving off into the sunset laughing.

OK, so the cop gives me a speeding ticket and that’s annoying enough. To add to the excitement, there’s this irritating court date that must be typically attended in order to achieve the “almighty” court supervision, which is ridiculous anyway, since the only thing it “supervises” is the money that goes from my poor college student pockets to its corrupt little fingers.

I recently attended my court date with hopes of getting in and out early, so I showed up 15 minutes prior to my scheduled time. Boy, was I stupid.

Each person, randomly I guess, was called to appear before the judge. But after every single person’s name was called out of approximately 80 people, still, there I sat, after a three and a half hour wait.

It turned out they kind of, sort of, misplaced my file. This file, to my fuming displeasure, contained my driver’s license. Keep in mind, this is our country’s judicial system hard at work. Go team, go.

After a three hour and 40 minute wait, plus a 10-minute delay to find my file, I finally got to see the judge. By this time, I’m thinking, “I’ll just pay my 100 and some odd dollar fine and be on my way.”

Wrong.

Apparently, whenever you go more than 20 miles per hour over the speed limit, the state’s attorney gets to make up whatever price he or she feels like charging you, based of course upon your previous record.

She — the state’s attorney — says something along the lines of, “the state recommends a fine of $250 and six months of supervision,” and I’m pretty sure my jaw hit the ground, while steam blew from my ears.

Anyway, after a minute of seeing red, I paid my fine. But seriously, who gives that stupid woman the right to randomly charge me whatever price she feels like charging me? The state? Give me a break. What a bunch of hogwash. My guess is she was just being a witch, but just make sure you replace the “w” in witch with a “b” for the full desired effect of my anger.