For eighteen or so years I’ve behaved myself, stayed out of
trouble, assumed responsibilities, put family before all else. Heck, how could
I not? Fed my anorexic wallet a twenty dollar bill every pay period for
sixteen of those years. Funny thing is: Now that I’m on my own and crying poor,
my wallet’s wreaking havoc on my spine, and with that comes a new found freedom to
do as I please … and BELIEVE ME … I am doing
just as I please.
So when the small town of Almont’s finest man in blue pulls me over for
speeding and searches me for weapons at 1:30
a.m. on a Saturday night, I assume the position, placing my hands
on his car while he pats me down. Then I walk a straight line and recite the
alphabet, performing without hesitation. Then I spread my arms out and stand on
one leg which to him is the ultimate test.
“Get that right knee back up in the air,” he demands.
“Higher,” he adds.
I keep my right foot square on the pavement and I tell him I
can’t lift my leg any higher. “I injured
myself running, ” I explain. He doesn’t care.
“Sir,” he says, “I’m going to give you one more chance on
this.”
Again, I try … and again, I fail. “I have a pulled groin
muscle,” I reveal.
He asks me if I’m willing to take a breathalyzer. Denying it
would further delay me from my destination. I blow into a little plastic tube.
He’s unhappy with the results. He resets the breathalyzer
and warms it up under his armpit. I’m not too happy with this procedure. “I want you to blow harder,” he says.
I repeat the process, not once but twice, blowing with all
my might.
Again, he’s unhappy with the results. “Get in the car,” he
says.
Since I don’t want to piss him off anymore than he already
is, I ask, “Which car?”
“Your car,” he barks.
I return to my car
and I wait and I wait and I wait. Background check, I’m thinking.
When he approaches my vehicle he says, “Watch your speed
and drive safely.”
As I pull back onto the road I say to my passenger, “Fifteen
over my ass. Where’s the speeding ticket?”
I look in my rearview mirror. He’s doubling back, getting
ready to repeat this process on another unsuspecting traveler. I guess, in the
words of Bruce Hornsby: “… it’s just the way it is.”
8 comments:
Well, after the experience.
Not a phone call? Not a card? :)
He must have been looking for a reason to get back to the station where his bud's were all hanging out doing nothing. You pissed him off by not providing him that excuse.
He thought you looked like a young James Dean
and wanted to lock you up. Figured you were just another drunk hillbilly rebel, Enjoyed the read and your current adventures. Watch out for them bottom feeders. Huck
The price of new freedom is occasional harassment, but it is only a test. You passed. On to the next adventure ~~!
He ran your plate and saw that you were not from around there and gave you a hard time. I've been there. These days I just smile and nod and surprisingly that takes care of a lot. Which is odd given that I'm now a long-haired deviant looking fellow. But i never drive when I've had anything to drink, those days are long gone. I only drink at bars where I have a friend's house in walking distance.
At the same time, there is a metaphor that goes along with the "armpit treatment" that speaks of your experience, as well as the experience of many other people, at this officer's hands. And it is a rather smelly metaphor at that.
Enjoyed the read, The price you pay for your new found freedom. Man, you sure as hell don't want A DUI. The fees and fines in Michigan are in the 1000's and thats not including the lawyer who of course can get those charges reduced.....(not) but you'll still pay. MW
Wow, personally, I would consider that harassment. Sounds like the officer has a personality disorder.
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