Right as I finish blowing into it, and while I'm putting it down, the blue and red lights up on top start spinning. The spotlight shines on me. I pull over at once. Kill the motor. Kill the lights. Roll down the window. The officer walks over with his flashlight identical to mine, and actually peeks out from it enough so I can see him. Doesn't shine it in my eyes, but in my lap -- not trying to blind me like some do; he just wants to see what my hands are doing.
Officer Apodaca here, with APD. The reason I pulled you over sir is that the light over your license plate is out.
You have *got* to be kidding me, I think. Of course I don't say that. I just say "really -- I had *no* idea" (and really, I didn't).
He wants license and proof of insurance.
License right here in my wallet -- have to get the insurance from the glove box.
Do you still reside at --
Seventeen-nintety-three-and-a-half Central Avenue, Number Four; yes, I do.
You have an interlock license. Do you have --
An interlock? Of course. I do.
And I show it to him, complete with flashing "RUN" light.
Excellent. So I assume you haven't had anything to drink tonight.
No, but I do work in a bar.
I see. Which bar?
Foxes.
OK. Find your proof of insurance, I'll be back in a moment.
I find it -- in my wallet, also there is a copy in the glove box. I hear something over the loudspeaker. I make out the word "insurance" just barely. I reach out to give the thumbs up, look back and nod, and finally hold the slip of paper in my hand just out the window in the bitterly cold wind. He walks back over, checks it, tells me I'm free to go, but do be sure to get my license plate light fixed so he can read it.
I thank him and wish him well. He just takes off before me while I wait for the interlock to let me start my car. I start it up and head right on down Central.
This means that both criminal summons I received were, in fact, cancelled as I'd been told they were. If they had not been, there would have been a warrant for my arrest, and I would be in jail right now. Likewise it means I'm not in any trouble for that gray-area period where it was not clear whether I needed the interlock license or just the device.
Officer Apodaca showed considerable humanity by just giving me a verbal warning. I'm sure the standard procedure is to issue a ticket, which requires getting the light fixed and going down to traffic court in person with proof of the fixed light to get it dismissed. That's the way it's happpened both other times I've gotten pulled over here for broken lights on my rear end. Perhaps he figured I had probably had enough of courtrooms for a while. I don't know. But I am deeply grateful that he handled it just like he did.
Part of me wonders whether it was he who pulled a car over into our parking lot earlier, and whether, if it was, he decided to stop me having remembered my car from the lot hours earlier. I guess I'll never know.
Poor Michael -- the guy from Chevron right across Wisconsin -- same one who nearly got castrated by Martinique when he was drunk and bugging her, who I got a license number for when he had a beer runner do a hit and run on a fellow employee. He'd been planning for months -- a 21st birthday party for some trailer park freind of his and rented the 1956 Chrysler Imperial Limousine I wrote of here once before. There was booze in the car, and balloons, and flowers, and he had everyhing planned out all perfect and paid for well ahead of time. He wanted me to go along but no I had to work. Finally a few weeks back he said he'd pay me sixty bucks to ride in front dressed well and open doors for him. So what the hell, I figured, that'd be more than I make working here, and I said I would do it.
Then last week he gives me a one page contract and just says "sign it". I tell him after I read it, and pocket it for a couple of days. Then I read the damn thing. I was to report for duty at the Chevron at midnight, check under the hood, in the trunk, and under the car (for what, I have no clue) and do complete walk-throughs of all buildings he and his party were going to enter, be responsible for the party's safety, scurity, and dignity, and hold whatever money he won at the casinos, and wear exactly what he said I should, which I'm happy to say I do not even have in my wardrobe. No way.
The contract also required 24 hours notice if I decided not to do it, but I never signed the contract, so I just went to work tonight as usual and didn't answer the phone when I knew it was him. I was gonna tear it up but Chip wanted to read it so he showed it around and everyone had a good laugh at the thing. Michael had talked to Chip at Foxes and Midnight at AMC repeatedly about having "reserved" signs put out (we didn't) and all sorts of stuff like that there. He ordered jello shots made especially for him (he hates vodka, but the jello shots were made with cheap vodka, wonder how *that* happened!). He and the birthday boy and Darrin arrive in the limousine which has taken them from across the street to Foxes and proceed to get extremely drunk extremely quickly. Every time one wants to leave, another has just started a drink and then the person who wants to leave orders another. Then they start playing pool. Before you know it, it's 1:30 and half of the three hours they'd rented the car for is up. We close. They get into the car. We lock the doors. The car won't start. The battery's completely dead. The tow truck arrives just as Chip and I leave.
Three hundred bucks to rent a limousine to take him right next door to Foxes.
Serves him right. I like him well enough but when he drinks he's utterly insufferable.
1 comments:
I had a similar thing happen to me several years back.
I was coming back from a concert (Weird Al Yankovic, if you needed any proof of how much of a nerd I am...), and I was driving in my van with my best friend and his wife (then fiancee) in the backseat asleep. It's after midnight, no one is on the road at all because its a sunday evening/early monday morning. I'm a minute from dropping him off at his (now) mother in law's place when I see those familiar and dreaded blue and red lights pop on.
Was I speeding? Impossible, I'm usually fairly careful about speed. I get over to the side of the road and he approaches the car (yeah roll down the window, motor off, radio off, etc), and he says the license plate light isn't working. Unbelieveable. He asks if I've been drinking (they didn't even sell booze at this show, so no), then for my DL and registration, and it ends up taking me like 5 minutes to find the goddamn thing because my parents had the slip buried somewhere. But guess what, when the guy returns with my license he just says "well get it fixed when you can and have a good night", to which I thank him graciously and drive off. He never even had to bother to see the registration. Of course, he doesn't really need to see the registration anyway--just a quick run-through of the plates to the computer will say if its current or not.
Two other times I've been pulled over and not ticketed. Once was on a residental street near my old Community College for a tail light that was out (that tail light had been giving me problems for years, heh), and the 2nd time for speeding less than a block from my house, but I wasn't really going all that fast--I think only 39 or 40 in a 35. But I didn't get a ticket, so its all good.
But I make sure to drive at least near the limit and keep all the lights in working condition just in case...;)
Post a Comment