Ummm... the speed limit is too low; I really wanted a Diet Coke; I was rushing to rescue my imaginary unborn child from a potentially burning building...
Me: "I'm sorry, I guess I just wasn't paying attention."
Officer: ..."So (insert small condescending cough here) do you come down Buffalo often?"
Me: "Um, I guess. A few times a week."
Well, first of all, I was going 38 in a 30 (sidenote: the speed detector on the side of the road said I was going 33) on Buffalo Speedway. That's Speedway. Not DriveLikeYourGreatGrandmaWay.
Secondly, can we stop pretending that by stopping me you are doing Houston a huge favor at 9 am on a Saturday morning? It's Houston not Pleasantville. Wait 2 minutes and catch someone blatantly running every stop light on this 2 mile stretch. Or going 25 over in a Lambo. Or about to mug the old lady with the shake-weight and fanny pack on the back-road you just abandoned to come out and teach me a lesson.
For the love.
Officer: "And where's your registration sticker, Miss?"
That's Mrs. to you, Mr. Officer. And my registration sticker? There's a sticker for that? You never hear an officer in a ticket-scene of a movie say, "License and proof of insurance, and good job getting your registration sticker on that windshield." I mean I did make the trip to the registration office TWICE-times during my workday to get it. I paid for it. I brought it home. The car is registered. But of course there is a sticker for that in the mountain of paperwork I was given. And I should know that it goes right below the state inspection sticker and right above the Texas star and right beside the Texas flag. And close to my heart.
Me: "Well, honestly officer I have no idea."
15 minutes later. Because yeah, it takes that long to decide what a reckless, sticker-less, speed-demon of a citizen I am.(Meanwhile, all the participants from a lawn party across the street have come over to see what the disturbance is and move their cars. Suckers thought the policeman was there to issue parking tickets. I would have laughed had it not been utterly humiliating having all those people circle my car and stare in my window as I tried and tried not to cry.)
Officer: "I'm gonna cut you a break. But not a big break..."
Oh good! I love not-so-big breaks! That's really the best kind, because we wouldn't want me getting cocky or spoiled or anything, right?
One "failure to display current registration" citation later...
Officer: "And SLOW DOWN on the road next time, okay?!"
I did my best to choke back the tears as I watched the next 3 weeks worth of grocery money fly out the window with all the bits and pieces of my weekend dreams.
Well, ya know what? I fought the law, and it kicked my butt.
But gosh-dang-it I got my stinkin' Diet Coke.
Who's yo daddy?
Disclaimer: This is in no way a slight on the public officials who serve to keep us protected, only on the flawed system that charges for every paper signed and then overcharges for every paper not displayed. And possibly on every officer who has ever pulled me over and treated me either like a 2 year old or like a hardened criminal. (That would exclude the very nice officer who gave me a ticket for going 20 over in a 25. But he inexplicably called for backup. Guess the 4 roommates in the passenger seats were too much for him to handle.)
i wish there was some way of knowing what a cop is going to do when he pulls you over, so that if you know he's giving you a ticket, you can say what he really needs to hear. They have such an easy out because we have to be nice in case they might let us off with a warning.
ReplyDeletegood job on sticking it to the man by getting that coke.
Okay,now that was funny! But you did luck out. If he had given you the speeding ticket (you speed demon you!), it would have impacted your insurance for the next three years. I enjoyed the read!
ReplyDeleteGreat writing! I know I shouldn't, but I hate cops. I just can't help it. Maybe if one of them had rescued me from a burglar or something I would feel differently.
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