October 16, 2013
ME: “Drugs? You think I’m buying drugs???? I don’t do drugs! Give me a drug test!”
OFFICER: “I’m not giving you a damn drug test. License and registration.”
How did it come to this?
As longtime readers may know, I live in Brooklyn New York (home of lots of hipsters) but the Company I Am employed by is based in Garden City Long Island (home of the guy who shot somebody at the Roosevelt Field Mall last week) so I have a long commute. In the morning it can take anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour and a half. In the evening, it can take anywhere from an hour to ∞.
So I had a really long day and I was driving on the Southern State Parkway and I realized that I was starting to nod off, not a good thing to do when you’re driving. I knew I couldn’t go on like that (well actually I could, just not for long or in a way that would end well) so I decided to get off the highway. I did not just pull off alongside the road. I remember how well that turned out for Michael Jordan’s father.
I got off at the next exit and once I was off the highway I was in a fairly nice residential area. There was an empty parking spot off a corner and I pulled in, leaned back the seat, and did not close my eyes. What am I, crazy, sleeping in my car like a hobo? (A hobo with a 2013 Subaru?) I leaned back, turned up the radio, and pulled out my iPod and played Plants vs. Zombies. All I needed was to relax for 10 minutes.
Ten minutes later, feeling a little better, I pulled the seat forward and pulled out of the spot. As soon as I did, I noticed a police car pull out from behind a clump of bushes and fall in right behind me. OK, that was weird, but I had no idea he had any interest in me. So here I am, driving in some strange Long Island neighborhood where the streets meander and turn on themselves and I had no clue how to get back to the highway.
Actually, I knew exactly how to get back to the highway: make a U-turn and go back the way I came. But with the police cruiser, um, cruising behind me (forgive me for that lapse of creative writing) no way was I going to make a U-turn. I pulled over to make a call to my girlfriend and wait for the cops to pass by.
But they didn’t.
As soon as I pulled over the cops flashed their lights and told me to turn off the engine. I did so, rolled down the window, and put my hands on the steering wheel.
The cop started off bellowing and managed to get even louder as this went on.
“What are you doing here?”
I explained how I was tired, pulled off the highway, rested, and now I’m going home.
“Where do you live?”
“Brooklyn.”
“You live in Brooklyn but you come here to buy drugs?”
“What???”
Remember, the cop’s half of the “conversation” was at about the decibels of a jet engine with a serious defect.
“Did you know that you parked in the biggest drug-buying corner of Long Island”
No I did not. “Drugs? You think I’m buying drugs???? I don’t do drugs! Give me a drug test!”
“I’m not giving you a damn drug test. License and registration.”
Until this point I wasn’t worried, not a bit nervous. No matter how much he yelled at me, I knew there was zero evidence I did anything wrong because- brace yourself- I did nothing wrong. There was no reason for him to issue me a ticket, let alone arrest me.
So I reached into my wallet, took out my license and
and
and
and I didn’t have my registration. My girlfriend had borrowed my car last week and she still had the registration.
Now I was worried. I gave the license to the officer, told him I didn’t have my registration, and offered to show him the insurance card.
He took the license and I braced myself to hear “get out of the car.” I was sure he was going to only give me a ticket non-registration but I was also sure he would try to scare me some more first.
But he didn’t. He gave me my license back and told me to “buy your drugs in Brooklyn.”
He also told me I could never go back to his town again. He followed me back to the highway, which I found only by sheer luck. He literally ran me out of town!
Two things saved me. One, when I took out my license, I very conspicuously flashed my NYC Detective’s Endowment Association card, which, take it from me, gets twice the respect of a PBA card, and two, on my jacket was my 911 Memorial police badge pin, which I was wearing on the side facing him.
So he knew he wasn’t going to give me a ticket- which he had every right to do since I had no registration- but he had to save face so he just kept on bellowing.
All in all it was an interesting ten minute rest.
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