Seeing the lights

Well hello, hey, and howdy, everyone. I don't do math, but I'm pretty sure I noticed something worth noting. If I'm carrying the one correctly, that makes this post my 200th at UOPTA. As Steve Martin says after seeing Michael Caine's house for the first time in "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," "Wow! All I can say is Wow!" I can't begin to tell you how shocked I am that I made it this far. I've been seriously running out of material for the past month or two, but then I do something crazy like stretch "spicy food" into a whole week. With any luck, I'll be able to do more of that for a while. If not, we'll have to discuss ways we can move forward in this relationship. For now though, I'm going to launch into another driving story, since that's been the hey-look-it's-a-theme-of-the-week.

Let's see here. So far, I've talked about many key aspects of the driving experience. You squirmed with me as I got my permit, you kept your excitement in check as I only got a 91 on my license exam, and you cringed as I added "Bronco 2" to the list of "Natural Enemies of Birds." So what have I missed so far? Silly gentle readers, I haven't talked about the police yet!

Before I get any more into a story that hasn't started yet, let me go on record here. I think policemen and women have extremely difficult jobs and I'm thankful that there are people like them out there who generally want to keep the peace and "put bad guys away." My grandfather was a sheriff for many, many years, and I respect the job these folks do on a daily basis. It's gotta be tough to be hated by many people simply because there are some bad seeds in your profession and your job involves telling people things that can't do. NWA's song "Fuck Tha Police" probably didn't help matters too much either.

Ok, I'm glad I got that out first, because the two stories I'm going to tell don't exactly paint the men and women of the police force in the most positive light. Neither is bad by any means, but I didn't want to feel like I was piling onto an already maligned occupation. Both stories take place in the town of Isla Vista, California. I lived in IV (as it's called) for the last three years of my schooling at UCSB. A very large number of students live in this small area, and while there are also families and a retirement home, it feels like it's almost all 20 year-olds. Enforcing the laws in this area is the Isla Vista Foot Patrol, and they have a rather tough task in my opinion of distinguishing stupid and obnoxious from illegal.

I was pulled over twice in IV, once when I was driving and once when I wasn't. I'll tell the latter first, because that doesn't make any sense. My friend Jon was driving me and some other friends to go see a movie. I remember sitting next to my homey Rockabye in the backseat, so that means either Greg or Dave must've been in the front. It was a short drive, and we were only a tenth of a mile from the house when Jon didn't make a complete stop at a stop sign. Out of the shadows, a cop appeared behind us and turned on his lights. Dutifully, Jon pulled over. Being good kids, Rockabye and I immediately put our hands neatly on our legs so there would be no question that we were complying to the fullest extent. You ready for dialogue mode?

Officer: Hey guys.

All: Hello, officer.

Officer: You kinda rolled through that stop sign back there.

Jon: Yeah, the old California Roll.

Peter: (nervous giggle, unsure if sushi-based humor is appropriate in this situation)

Officer: So where are you guys headed?

Jon: To the movies.

Officer: Oh yeah? What are you seeing?

Jon: Uh, "The Waterboy."

Officer: Oh man, Adam Sandler rocks.

All: (various versions of agreeing with his statement)

Officer: Well, be more careful in the future and enjoy the movie.

All: We will. Thank you.

Jon slowly drove away, and it we couldn't believe that not only did we get out of what should definitely have been a ticket, but he said, "Adam Sandler rocks." We did proceed with caution to the very funny movie, and came home later with a bunch of new quotes to throw around but no new traffic violations.

The second story is pretty different, and I'm just going to jump right into it. I was driving on my way out of IV and I came to a stop sign. Facing me in plain view on the other side of the street was a police car. Naturally, I made a very, very complete stop before proceeding. Two seconds later, the cop made a u-turn and got behind me. I turned right on the next street, and so did he. Then his lights came on. Confused as hell, I pulled over and waited for him to walk to my car.

As he approached, I stopped myself from asking, "What seems to be the problem, officer?" because it's too cliche. I only caught myself partway through, so I ended up saying, "What seem...what...did...I...do?" "You rolled right through that stop sign," he said matter-of-factly. I was floored, and apparently that flooring process took some of my speaking ability with it. "I, what? I, no, sir, I made a very complete stop, a, uh, really very complete one. I saw you parked right there, not that I don't always make complete stops, but in this case in particular I absolutely made sure that it was complete." He paused for a second, then said, "Well maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought you rolled right on through it." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Officer, I swear to you that I stopped very fully and completely at that sign, and I was even quite surprised to see you behind me since I knew it couldn't be for that." He paused again, this time longer. "Well," he finally said, "I guess I must be imagining things. Ok, you drive carefully out there." I thanked him and watched him walk back to his car.

Here's the thing. If he really thought I rolled through the stop sign, there's no way me swearing to him would've changed his mind. I think I figured out what happened. My stop was so ridiculously complete (which I kept wanting to tell him but stopped myself) that he must have assumed I was drunk. It was a holiday weekend, which may have made him more sensitive to that also. Under the pretense of the whole stop sign thing, he wanted to check me out. Seeing that I was only a spaz and not drunk, he let me go. That had to be it, right? He could've just asked me if I'd been drinking (which I hadn't - I was on my way to work, incidentally). That pissed me off. At the very least, I learned that I can successfully bite my tongue in the face of the authorities even when they say something so outlandish that I'm almost rendered speechless.

Ok, this is more than long enough for today's very special 200th UOPTA post. I have other pulled-over stories, but I'll keep them in the bag for right now. Gentle readers, you must have stories on this topic to share. Can you please email me at ptklein@gmail.com with them? Ideally, I can spend a whole post relaying bits and pieces of them to the rest of the reading audience. Have a great day, and I'll see you here tomorrow for another Follow Up Friday.