Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!

Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas.

It says "...freedom of...", not "...freedom from...".

Nolite te bastardes carburundorum!

"It's amazing to me how many people think that voting to have the government give poor people money is compassion. Helping poor and suffering people is compassion. Voting for our government to use guns to give money to help poor and suffering people is immoral self-righteous bullying laziness. People need to be fed, medicated, educated, clothed, and sheltered, and if we're compassionate we'll help them, but you get no moral credit for forcing other people to do what you think is right. There is great joy in helping people, but no joy in doing it at gunpoint." - Penn Jillette

Monday, July 27, 2009

Gee, Officer Friendly...

I was headed home when this happened...it's a bit long, but I found it funny...at least, at the time...maybe you'll be bored. Oh, well.
~~~~~
I was driving through Louisiana, on 12. I don't know why he chose me, really, but the officer said it was because I drifted over the line. Fair enough, I may have, although I don't think so. I know I wasn't speeding. Much.

I pulled onto the grass, far away from the traffic flying past, rolled down my windows, killed the engine, and waited. He sauntered up and leaned in the passenger window.

"Ma'am, may I see your license?"

Blink...blink...

I had my hands on the wheel, where he could see them. "It's in my back pocket." Georgia accent in full force, as it sometimes is when I am stressed, so it sounded like "It's iyun mah bayuck pawket."

"OK" He nodded.

I reached with my right hand, pulled out my wallet, and handed him the licence. I'm hoping the little smile he had to quash was because he thought the photo was a good one and not because the weight is clearly incorrect...by about sixty pounds the wrong direction.

"Well, Mrs. XXX (not my real name), do you know why I pulled you over?

Here's where my inner smartass really wanted out. I had to tie it up, duct tape its mouth, and shove it into a corner of my mind for the duration. In Italics are the answers I wanted to give...but didn't. You were clearly overcome by my radiance and had to stop me to gaze upon my visage, pay me homage, and beg for my phone number. "No, sir."

"You crossed the center line back there. You're not getting sleepy or driving under the influence on me, are you?"

Umm...can't you see the Gucci bags under my eyes?? Two iced teas (one of them a BK mega sized one) and two Vault sodas aren't doing it for me, but this little interlude sitting in the heat chatting with officer friendly is sure to help. "No, sir."

"Are you carrying any knives or guns with you today?"

Dang - left 'em home with the explosives and map of Fort Knox. "Only my cheese knife in the back, sir, in one of the bags." I use my fingers to measure the length, maybe two inches at best.

He smiled and shook his head.

"But other than that, I don't have any knives or firearms in here, sir."

He poked his head a little further in the window. "Are you alone in here, ma'am?"

Nope, I have the voices to keep me company. Say "hello", voices! "Hello, officer friendly!" "Yes, sir."

"Have you ever been pulled over before?"

"Yes, sir." But never by one as cute as you...sorry you're not my first...but you could be my best...

"How long ago?"

"Umm..." I had to do some math, and I'm certain that smoke curled out of my ears. "About eighteen years ago?" Yep, I'm a rebel, a scofflaw...

He had to fight the smile again. I think he found me amusing. Can you imagine??

"Ever been arrested?"

"No, sir." But I HAVE wondered what it'd be like to play with those shiny, shiny handcuffs...tell me, officer friendly, is that your nightstick or are you just happy to see me?

"You sit tight, I'm going to go run your license."

Great...could you bring me a cold one while you're at it? My A/C is on the fritz and I'm schwitzing up a storm, here... "Yes, sir."

After a few years sitting on the side of the road, stewing in my own juices, I started shaking. Oh, great, NOW the caffeine kicks in! The nice officer returned, my license in his hot little hand. I don't think he noticed that my pupils were now two different sizes and whirling like a Warner Brother's character on a sugar-high.

"Where are you coming from?"

"Houston, sir." Back thataway...

"There on vacation?"

"Yes, sir." I bobble-headed a nod. Smooth.

"Were you on your own, or were you meeting friends?"

Is he fishing to find out if I'm available?? Hmm...I DO like a man in uniform... "I met some friends."

"What did you do while you were there?"

All kinds of things I wouldn't tell my mother, officer, but I'd be happy to show you a few of 'em... OK...now...I'm tired, emotionally and physically drained, missing the person I left behind, and really ready to be done driving for a while. I'm hot, the A/C isn't helping me any, the caffeine is kicking my ass, I can be really voluble when I'm nervous (and being pulled over has always made me nervous), and this guy is playing twenty questions. He totally deserved the seven minute discourse on the fun things to do in Houston and Galveston (G-rated version). I'm just sayin'.

Eventually he waved me to a stop.

"Where are you headed?"

"Home, sir." Up yonder.

"Where's that?"

Dude, it clearly says on my license...oh, crap...I can't remember where I live... "Atlanta...well, north of Atlanta, South of Gainesville, sir."

"Florida?"

Duh! Tag says Georgia...is this a trick question? Oh, crap...what's the right answer? Where's my cheat-sheet?? "No, sir, Georgia."

"Uh-huh. Do you have any marijuana on you?"

Why, you want to roll a blunt and party on the roadside, sugar? "No sir." True.

"Any cocaine?"

Dude, I look rode hard and put up wet, I'm exhausted, and I'm at least eighty pounds overweight - do I LOOK like a coke head?? "No, sir." Also true.

"Any methamphetamine?"

See the answer for cocaine, but add that I am in possession of all my teeth... "No, sir!" in a tone of utter disgust, this time, and completely true then and always.

"So you wouldn't mind if I searched, then?"

Only if you promise to get a little rough and call me Rhonda...and then can I put the cuffs on YOU?? "No, sir." Now, I know I'm supposed to demand a warrant or probable cause, but I was tired and in no mood to play with the nice man who just wanted to do his job - and if I was hot, he was hotter, standing in the sun wearing his uniform and a Kevlar vest. It's not his fault that drug runners have started using mom-mobiles as mule, or that I look so freakin' glamorous I must be a gangsta's moll, yo.

He handed me my license. "Step on over here, please." He waved for me to come out of the van and walk toward the back.

Oh, joy. "Yes, sir." I pulled out my wallet and replaced the license as I climbed out of the van and into the sun...and more importantly, my nappy-haired, sweaty, tired, overweight, been-on-the-road-for-several-hours looking self was in full view of the motoring public. Hurrah. The nice officer was waiting in the grass behind my van.

"You dropped something."

So I had. "Oh, thanks - it's the manager's card for the place I was staying."

"Where was that?"

I just handed him the card - we all know he wanted to see it...or maybe he just wanted to touch something that had been in really close proximity to my magnificent ass.

He asked me to step to the side.

"I'd hate for a car to hit my cruiser and crush us both." he handed me back the card.

Yeah, me too. "That would be fairly horrible, sir."

"I pulled you over because we get a lot of driver under the influence through here, and a lot of drug traffic, especially from Houston to Atlanta. We don't like drugs coming through here. Now, usually if we pull you over and ask if you're carrying anything, if you just have a little for personal use and you're honest about it, tell us, we'll just let you go."

Like fun, you will...

He continued "I'm not looking for that - I'm looking for big stuff. You're sure you don't have anything on you?"

"Sir, I'm clean." Sounded more like "Ser, ahm cleeyin", but at least it was the truth - the worst thing I had in the van was a beer Someone left in the motel room (I later told him it's in my fridge, but if he wants it he'll have to come get it) and some completely legal herbal smoke that is so old, it'd probably turn to dust if I opened it (if I could even find it buried in the very back in a box I haven't opened in a year or more).

"You're clean? OK, then, have a nice day."

Seriously? All that, and it's "Have a nice day"?? I don't even get a pat down, maybe get you to cop a feel? I could have body parts in those coolers...or every drug known to nature under that quilt! You made me lose all the semi-lukewarm air in my car, got my heart rate up over two-thousand bpm, and paraded my sorry butt out in public...and that's IT?? I demand a strip search! I know my rights!! I...uh...I'm getting back in the van and getting the Hell home, is what I'm doing.

If nothing else, I was awake for the rest of my trip...no need to pull over for any more naps!
~~~~~
Later, I'll announce the winner of the contest and maybe bore you to tears with a few other snippets from the trip. Cheers!

3 comments:

cinner said...

What a long drawn out affair for you. All for crossing the line. Glad you made it home. Take care.

HermitJim said...

Maybe Mr. Officer-Sir just needs a vacation himself!

Poor guy...having to pull over the pretty ladies to have a decent conversation...

Makes ya wonder what awaits him at home, huh?

Good post, Miss K

RachelW said...

Guffaw!!