News Flash: Cop Pulls Over a Person Who Felt a Need to Write a Blog Entry About It!

This last weekend was a rough one. My double Thursday sucked because of the snow. Hardly anyone came in. I made ninety-eight bucks in twelve hours. My Friday double was much better (the days after a bad storm are usually good, because people like to get out). After work Friday, I went with a few people to a bar down the street. After that, I hung out with a friend until about five in the morning.

I should have slept in the next morning, but for some reason, I woke up at ten and couldn't get back to sleep. I did some editing for a while and went to work at four.

That shift was insanely busy and happily very profitable. I was damnably tired when I finally clocked out at just after one in the morning. Not only was I running on little sleep, I'd only eaten a can of tuna fish all day. But the lack of sleep or food didn't stop me from having a drink at the bar as soon as I was off. Very quickly, I felt my face freeze up in that wonderful, slightly buzzed sort of way. I remember saying suddenly--loudly, interrupting whatever conversation had been going on--"Ye Gods, I'm already fucked up!." There was a pause, and everyone went back to their conversations. I drank a glass of iced tea before I left the restaurant at about two-thirty.

I drove home carefully, going only a few miles over the speed limit (This is a good practice. Everyone speeds a little bit. Going under the speed limit only draws attention.). I was just getting to my neighborhood when I realized I needed to make a left, but I was in the right lane. There was only one other car next to me, who irritatingly felt a need to go my exact speed. So I gunned it, whipped in front of him, and made my turn.

I make three turns to get from the entrance of my developement to my apartment. I made the first turn and saw a cop car way behind me. I made the second and saw he was still there. By the third, I knew I was fucked. Cops on the prowl, even without their lights on, move like sharks going after prey. That steady, sure motion is instantly recognizable.

I pulled into a parking space in front of my door, hoping that my being home and no longer needing to drive would play in my defense somehow (it has worked in the past).

The cop turned on his lights and pulled up behind me.

And just like that, I was back in Thompson mode.

Sorry to be so damn repetitive with my last three posts, dear reader, but getting pulled over calls for that kind of behavior, right?

And I heard the voice in my head, taking stock of the situation: "You're a very scrawny fucker who hasn't eaten or slept much and you have alcohol in your system One beer alone will put you at 1.0. If he pulls out a breathalyzer, you are done."

I pushed the line "Make the bastard chase you" out of my head and rolled down my window (Why make the officer have to knock?).

After walking up, he stood slightly out of my sight: "Sir, that was an awfully dangerous move you made back there."

"Good evening, sir. Yes. Yes, it was. Sorry." (No, I didn't "do the voice," although I did lower mine a bit.)

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Just a beer, sir. I just worked a nine-hour shift--"

"Where?"

I told him and continued, "Had a beer, then I came home."

"Can I see your license and registration, sir?"

"Of course."

I pulled out my wallet and gave the man my driver's license and insurance card.

"Not your insurance card. Your registration."

"Oh. Yeah."

I grabbed my owners manual with all the car-related papers and flipped through it. I took out the Personal Property tax form and showed it to him.

"Is that it?"

"No."

I'm not sure what the other legal-looking page was, but I held that up, too.

"No."

I showed him a few more pages, all of which he said were wrong.

"I just bought this car last year. I'm sure I have all the right stuff. My apartment's right there. Let me go in and get it for you."

"That's all right, sir. Just wait in the car." With that, he walked away.

I've been pulled over maybe six times in my life. I've had three speeding tickets, all of them fairly minor (never any points on my license). And not one police officer has ever asked me for my registration.

He was gone for over ten minutes.

I thought back to a story I'd heard recently about a man who got pulled over and knew he was drunk, so he stalled the cop as much as possible, asking questions, making conversation. All while doing this, he was moving around, drinking water, eating crackers; doing whatever he could to work the alcohol out of his system. I heard that it worked. And why should I take any chances?

I drank the rest of my iced tea, ate the rest of a can of cashews I had in the car, along with a package of Austin peanut butter crackers. Then I took a Listerine tab. After that, I smoked a cigarette. I don't know what affect the cigarette would have--good or bad--but I felt I needed one. This was the first time I had ever smoked a cigarette in my car. The window was down, and I kept the cigarette out the door, but still, there it was, precedent started.

The officer finally came back.

"Sir, I'm not going to give you a ticket for not having your registration, but I am giving you one for making that dangerous turn. No points on your license, a seventy-five dollar fine."

"I see."

"When you jumped that lane and made the left turn, you forced the car behind you to slam on its brakes. You didn't signal, so he had no warning."

(I don't recall seeing two cars behind us, but I know that I did use my turn signal. I know this because I always use my turn signal. It's a habit, brought on by hate. It irritates me greatly when people misuse a turn signal. I'd almost rather they didn't use it at all, rather than turn it on too late. Using your signal after you change lanes is about as stupid as making the phone ring after the other person picks up. The same goes for people who turn on their signals while waiting at a red "turn only" light. Of course you're going to turn here. You have no choice unless you're planning on running straight through that building somehow. It would have been better if you'd have used your signal to show you were getting into the turn lane itself, but that's too complicated for you, isn't it, moron?

My, I can bitch about anything, can't I?

So, yes, I used my signal, but I only hit it a second or so before switching lanes, and I know that that is a totally wrong and shitty thing to do. The guy on my left seemed determined to stay beside me, slowing when I slowed and speeding when I sped. I gunned it out of irritation, and got nailed for it. Did the alcohol have any part in that? I'll never tell. (Heh. Sounds like a commercial.)

Back to the story.)

The officer continued, "That caused the two cars behind him to brake, and it could have caused an accident. I thought for certain you were drunk, but maybe that one beer affected your judgement."

"Yes, after working so long--"

"Hey, man, I understand. I'm running on four hours sleep and working a twenty-four hour shift, so believe me, I know how it feels. Just be more careful. It's better to drive another block and turn around if you miss an exit, then possibly cause an accident."

I signed the form, took back my license, and watched him through the mirror as he got in his car and drove off. I waited a few minutes for no reason, then went inside. I had a brief conversation--during which I mentioned nothing of the ticket--then chatted on-line for about an hour. I didn't fall asleep until after four, then got up at eight to be back at work at eight-forty-five.

So what's the life lesson here? I think it's "Don't get pissed at people driving next to you and jump ahead of them at two-thirty in the morning after you've been drinking especially when there's a copy behind you."

And I'll never do it again. Probably.

There are two comments to make about this. First of all, most importantly, it is not true that all Montgomery County cops are assholes. I've heard this time and again from people. I've heard lots of stories from reliable people that validate this claim. And it is true, there are a lot of shitty cops in the world, and some of them are around here. But this guy was professional, polite, and human. I did a bad thing and he busted me for it. Could have been A LOT worse, if he'd have given me any drunkard tests. I'm not about to fight this fine.

Which brings me to point number two.

Lately, I've gotten to be all kinds of social. I've gone from "maybe a beer or two a month" to "maybe four or five a night." Just so happened that on this night I didn't have much anything at all. I know my recent socializing is brought on by post break up crap, even though I haven't had any of the lingering depression for well over a month now (I haven't carried that little "feelings journal" around since January, simply because I don't need it anymore).

The time has come for me to be a little less wreckless, a little more thoughtful, and most definitely a lot less drunk. The seventy-five dollar fine seems like a good amount to pay. It's not enough to make me feel like I really fucked up, but it's enough to slap me in the face and make me pay attention to what I'm doing. More than that, for me to realize things could have been a whole lot worse. I've had friends get pulled over for similar things and, through chance alone, ended up with thousands of dollars in fines, along with raised insurance rates and legal issues to deal with. I got off easy, and I'm not going to let that lesson go to waste.

So you see, kids, the system can work, if you work with it.

(But watch! The gods of mischeif will play a joke on me, and I'll end up in prison for a crime I didn't commit. It'll make for a good story, and as long as I have internet access, I think I'll be fine.)