Page created 29 May 2002 by baggins , last modified 29 May 2002 by baggins
URL: www.porkers.com
Alaric 's cop story reminded me that almost all of us have hilarious stories about run-ins with our nation's crime- fighting elite. please share them here.
just miss-posted my li'l brother's best cop story to my diary. well, it's over there if yer interested.
my freshman year at old north park college (back in the old-old days when it was just a college and not a pretentious and tiny "university"), the announcement was made that the freshman streak was "banned." hah! a likely story! so, a bunch of wild and crazy freshman atheletes (mainly i think the football team) and assorted other ruffians decided to hold a pre-emptive and impromptu streak a week or so before we (somebody, i guess, i'm not sure really who) had planned the real freshman streak. actually, i believe this was one of several small impromptu pre-emptive drunken streaks leading up to the actual, "official" event. ruffians, i tell you.and so it came to pass one spring middle-evening, as i and several other uninvited observers looked on, that there was much nakedness and noise on the lawn out in front of olson house (before there was a silly big chapel with a conspicuously silly and useless rising floor section, when there was a beautiful, if small, stretch of grassland and huge trees, from which the women of olson house could be serenaded and mooned), and that nakedness drifted around the campus a bit, and some of that nakedness ended up in the middle of foster avenue directing traffic. this was the legendary andrew almer and maybe one or two valiant others i don't remember.
the cop part is this: the police had been alerted to impending streak possiblitily by the administration, and had agreed to "prosecute to the fullest extent of the law" any 'orrible, 'orrilbe offenders of public decency. and, it happened that as traffic was being directed a squad car was rolling by (maybe looking to spy a bit of skin in an open olson house window - i mean, who didn't, from time to time?), and scattered the miscreants, driving at them at high speed like as if to run them down, and screeching up to stop in front of olson house. seeing that the offenders had scattered, a beefy chicago-style hotdog-of-a-cop, apparently too exhausted from his block-long carchase to get out and actually pursue anyone on foot, leaned out the window and began to angrily berate me and my fellow observers. it should have been easy to see that we were not part of the problem, mainly because we were fully-clothed, but action had to be taken! so the he yells at us that we should go get our "friends" into some clothes and inside, because "i'm going down to the dunken donuts, and if i find any of you [bad people] out here when i come back, i'll" (haul you off to jail or whatever - i stopped listening after dunken donuts). he drove off and that was that. the streak(s) went on without any more troubles.
that's a long way to walk for a short drink of punchline, but it still ranks as one of my favorite instances of that most succulent of treats: righteous, unintentional self-ridicule.
Kind of a funny thing about the Oklahoma story is that a couple hours after we got stopped, the next car full of Chicago people (which had much more pot in it than our car did) got stopped by the exact same trooper for the exact same reason. Mike, the driver, must have stayed pretty cool about it though, because he said the guy never even asked him about marijuana or narcotics or threatened to use a dog, and just gave him a warning about not signaling. It makes me wonder if the trooper just took one look at us and decided we were potheads. Admittedly, Kerry and I were looking pretty shabby and greasy at the time from lack of sleep, but we weren't acting like we had anything to hide, I mean, Kerry would have been much more polite had he known about the pot, but I guess the guy didn't pick up on that. Nutty.
I've only been stopped one other time, and that was in Hilsboro, North Dakota. I was driving to get parts for my boss's airplane (I was working for a crop duster). I usually took backroads, but one of the bridges was out, so I had to go through the town, which I had only driven through a couple of times. The speed limit went from 40 to 25, and the first sign with the 25 limit was behind a tree, so I didn't slow down until I saw the second sign, which was too late. The thing was, I saw the cop sitting there as I pulled into town, so I made a concious effort to look for signs. Anyway, I got clocked at like 35 or something, but the guy just let me off with a warning. It's a pretty boring story, but it's the only other one I have. I'm sure baggins has some good ones he can share.
ive probably got somewhere between 6 and 10 speeding tickets in my life. some of those are pretty uneventful. i too got pulled over on the way back from Tucson. it was in Moriarty, NM. i was given a $69 fine for going 88mph in a 75mph zone. the guy was super nice about it, and the whole thing took only like 5 minutes. luckily i only got caught going 88. i was doing well over 90 through most of NM, going over 100 several times.
I've also been arrested twice. both times it was for driving on a license that i had no clue was suspended. it was suspended for insurance reasons, yet i had no idea, they never told me. the first time, i pulled out of work and was sitting at a red light on the corner where i worked. a cop pulled up behind me. as soon as the light turned green, he turned on his lights and pulled me over. i don't know why he ran my plates (probably because my car was falling apart). he was a real cowboy, too. tossing my keys on the roof, etc. i was being super docile, cooperative, etc. the guy still handcuffed me (not gently) behind my back and threw me into his squad car. its hard to describe in text, but imagine all 6'2", 270lbs. of me, with my hands behind my back, trying not to lean backwards because the cuffs hurt so bad, yet having a plastic fence an inch from my face and trying not to lean on it either. then the guy is driving like crazy to the station, with lots of unecessary swerves and brakes, and generally-not- comfortable-to-the-passenger-with-handcuffs-kind-of-driving-maneuvers. at the station, i was released on my signature (i would have signed something by my car...) and had to walk to a phone and find my parents and get a ride home from them. my car was towed, and wasn't worth the $$ it would have cost to get it out (starting at like $350 and going up like $50 a day). so i brought the title, got the stuff out, and signed over the piece of crap to the scrapyard.
the second time was september 8, 2001. driving on foster between cumberland and harlem. speed limit goes from 35 to 25 for 2 blocks. i was pulled over for going 35 in a 25, and it turned out that my license was suspended again, for insurance stuff that i was totally unaware of. the cop was super nice, but still had to handcuff me due to policy (i don't know why it has to be behind the back though). 2 other cops came to make sure that my car was in a legal parking space (the COPS aren't clear on this? who the hell is?) and to make sure that all my valuables were stored safely in the trunk. as in every cd and book and piece of clothing piled high in my car. also, i had just purchased a portable cd player (with tape adapter) an hour before this so that i could listen to cd's in my car. the packaging was still in the car, and this was apparently suspicious to them. they asked where i got it, when i got it, how much i paid for it, and if i had the receipt. i was like "it might be in the bag somewhere, i wasn't really planning on returning the item..." ...or proving to cops that i paid for it. we drove to the station (much nicer ride this time, thought the cuffs still hurt) and inside they took my mug shot, and went through the whole processing of it all. they also asked me why i was so far from home (my address is in the south burbs, i was on the northwest side of chicago). i didn't realize that being an hour from your house is a suspicious thing in an urban metropolitan sprawl like chicago, but i just said i was on my way to visit some friends (at George's, helloooo). during the interview process, i learned that the cop who arrested me (officer Hanneman) was a cousin to Jeff Hanneman, who is 1 of 2 guitarists in SLAYER, and the guy who plays the solo on the Beastie Boys' fight for your right and no sleep til brooklyn. that was interesting. i paid $100 (which i luckily had on me) and was let go. they told me that, technically, they were supposed to tell me not to drive until this was cleared up, but that they would look the other way while i got in my car and drove away.
i also got pulled over once in Montana with Josh Jackson. ill post that later.
well, i don't have any good stories. Except maybe the time I got pulled over right by Taco Bell on Devon and the cop badgered me for a few minutes because he thought I had been drinking. Luckily, I think he was a Lincolnwood copper and not a chicago badge. There was also the time I was in a very minor accident and didn't have current proof of insurance on me. But this was colorado, so the cops let me drive away.
Getting pulled over in Montana with Josh must have been quite the experience. I look forward to reading that one.
so Josh Jackson walked into George's one day when i was there, looking for me. he said that his mom had just gotten into a car accident back home in olympia, and that he was trying to figure out a way to get back home. he wanted me to drive it with him. since i wasn't working, and he offered to pay for everything, i said OK. we took my car (which had been 'totaled' in a rear collision a few months earlier) that day. great trip out and back, Josh is a cool cat, and trips with just one person are always really cool, because you can really get to know that one person, in an isolated context, without having to sift through who they are with a bunch of other people. and i really love josh. he's a cool cat with a great heart. he's really fun too, and he's intensely driven sometimes. anyways... we drove out, saw his mom, saw the rest of the family, hung out with the kids, and rodney, and the sisters. all very cool people. saw a bit of seattle and of olympia, all in one day. we then got on the road again to go back to chicago. i started driving the first part of the trip. from seattle, through WA and ID, and the first bit of montana. i was tired, and we decided to switch drivers. now, josh 's drivers license was suspended for a long time, and he just didn't drive that much in chicago. but we figured that he would drive on this trip anyway, and hope not to get pulled over. well, we pulled into a rest area to switch drivers, and piss, and stuff. josh had some resin in his pipe that he wanted to hit before he took over, so he was over near some trees and did his thing. there were no other illegal substances in the entire car besides this one little bowl and the resin josh was currently trying to smoke. no big deal. well, as josh pulls out of the rest area, not even barely going 60 yet, we see some flashing lights. he pulls over, and the saga begins.
the first cop comes to the window, and josh gives them his expired license. they come back and tell him its expired, and ask about the insurance papers, and who's car it is. i say its mine, and give them the papers. they ask me to step out of the car and i do. while im talking to them, more troopers show up. there are now 2 montana state trooper SUV's with us, and a total of 4 officers. all are being very nice to us, while going about doing their duty. they say they pulled me over because my license plate was displayed in the window, and not on the bumper (the bumper would not accomodate a license plate due to the accident aforementioned). this was apparently not acceptable in Montana, and we were pulled over. i'd venture to guess that we looked a bit suspicious, but then again, what cigarette-smokin, rock-and-roll- listening, 17-30-year-old-male on a cross-country road trip doesn't, to a montana state trooper?
we get around to them asking us if we have any illegal substances in the car. they are being real sweethearts about the whole thing, mind you. very nice, softspoken guys. it felt like i got pulled over by my grandpa's fishing buddies or something. they are talking to me and josh separately at this point. i tell them that there is nothing illegal in the car that i know of. i am apparently talking to the chief of the county officers (im unclear on the whole jurisdiction of the entire thing, but this guy was definitely in charge). he asks me if i would give permission to search the car. i think for a second, and ask what my options are. 'what happens if i say no?' he tells me that, if i refuse, then they can either hold us until the morning when they can get a warrant and search the car. or they can get the drug dogs out to sniff the car. if the dogs hit anything (even a false alarm, i was led to believe) then the car would be impounded, and we would be imprisoned until further action was taken... or i could just give them permission. i laughed when told these options, and said 'so you're going to search the car, but it will be a whole lot less hassle for us and you if i just give you permission, right?' he smiled and said i had it pretty much correct. so i said 'well, if you're gonna search it anyways, then go ahead, i guess.' they proceeded to go through my car, and sift through the months of junk (i was practically living out of my car, not having too much of a permanent residence at the time). they didn't find anything at all, until they started going through josh's jacket. they then, of course, found his pipe, and an empty baggy. tell-tale as all get out, obviously. they then deliberate, and are talking to us again. they are actually asking us questions about chicago, and other places we've been, etc. the chief tells us a short tale (this is while the car is being searched) about his brief trip to chicago.
apparently the chief, in his younger days, had decided to go to chicago for a visit. he was all dudded up in his montana cowboy's finest going- to-town clothes, and hopped a train to Chicago with a suitcase. when he got off the train, some big tough black dude came up to him and asked him if he was from montana. when he said 'yes', the dude told him that he wouldn't last 2 minutes outside the train station, and that he should just get back on the train back to Montana... So he did!!!
super hilarious story, for sure.
so after they find the pipe, they tell us that they are going to have to take josh in and process him. he will be let forth on bond, after he pays a fine. they are going to let the suspended license thing go, though. this is a significantly larger fine than the paraphernalia, and is an act of kindness on their part, for sure. they are even asking us if we will have enough money to get back to chicago after paying the lesser paraphernalia fine. we assure them that we will. so i follow them to the station, and wait about 45 minutes while josh is processed. afterwards, he comes out with the chief, and we both shake his hand, he wishes us well, and then we leave. Josh told me later that the chief said he only processed him because the other 3 officers were there. if it had been only him, he would have let us go.
unfortunately, josh was informed that he shouldn't drive again in montana. this meant i had to drive to the end of montana. i had just driven from seattle, and was just switching drivers with josh, as you recall. montana is over 500 miles across on I-90. i was falling asleep by the time we hit wyoming. josh was cool as hell, though, and drove until almost the end of minnesota after that. fun trip in all. but they cuffed josh in front, not behind his back. i wonder why it is policy in illinois to cuff behind the back?
Those Montana coppers sound coolio.
i think Shredzilla needs to post a few of his mis-haps with the cops.
"tan pants right?"
otherwise maybe pete and i can take a wack at them.
Yeah, Dave, you have to hold forth on some of your raddy-daddio stories.
i've recently heard a few of these. id love to hear them from the keyboard of Dave.
well, i was leaving my house this evening at approx. 6:30pm to head up to the NPU area. about a block away from my house, at a stop sign, i noticed that my clock in my car was still set an hour ahead. so at the stop sign (in a residential suburban subdivision), i bent over and started fiddling with knobs, to see if i could change the clock setting. i looked up and saw headlights behind me and started to roll forward so as not to block the intersection. as soon as i started to move, i saw flashing lights start going. i couldn't believe it. i had no idea what was going on. i mean, i was just sitting there for a second playing with my radio and when a car came i started to move. i honestly couldn't think of a single reason for this guy to be 'pulling me over' as it were.
wanting to figure it out, i got out of the car and started to walk towards the police car. the cop got out (he was no more than 3 years older than me, id swear) and yelled at me to get back in the car. so i did, and he came over and yelled at me saying 'dont you know that when you get pulled over you stay in your vehicle? you dont EVER get out of the car! give me your license and insurance.' i obliged, and he walked away. i sat there thinking why on earth was he pulling me over. i couldn't believe i was sitting there in that situation.
another Sherriff pulls up at this point, and im thinking 'WTF?'
finally, they both come over and tell me to get out of the car. they tell me my license is suspended and they are arresting me. they cuff me (behind the back again, bastards...) and put me in the cop car. they search my car, and come and tow it. i ask to get some stuff out of the car before they take it, mainly my cigarettes, since they were all i had and i couldn't go get more. he says 'hang on a minute.' i ask the first cop why my license was suspended, and he tells me he didn't look up why. i see him flipping through a book of violations. when he gets to a certain page, he tells me 'i pulled you over for "Obstructing An Intersection".' i told him i was only stopped for a second to fix the clock on my radio and he says he was behind me a full minute before i noticed him. this is complete bullshit. no fucking way in hell was he sitting there for more than 5 seconds before i saw him and started to move. but this is his claim.
after the second guy searches my car, the tow truck comes and tows my car. i will have to pay to get it back. i realize my chance to grab my smokes and wallet and a couple other things is gone, but i don't say anything. the first guy finally tells me that he's supposed to take me in to the station and blah blah blah, but since i'm being cool with him, he's gonna let me go right there (with a ticket of course). they open the door to let me out, but don't assist me any (try getting out of a car with your arms cuffed behind your back sometime). when i get out, they give me 2 tickets. one for 'obstructing an intersection' and one for 'driving on a suspended license'. then ask if i need a ride home. i tell them its just a block away and i'll walk, thanks. they say 'ok. do you have any other questions?' and i say 'well, do either of you have a cigarette?' the first cop laughs and says 'oh man. we forgot to get your smokes out of the car, huh? well sorry. you need to quit anyway.' and they both kinda laugh at that (morons). i start walking, and realize they hadn't given me back my keys yet. i stop the guy before he pulls away, and he says 'oh yeah. here.' and hands me my keys (sans car key).
i walked home and almost cried.
that totally sucks. So you still don't know why your license is suspended? Shouldn't the state TELL you when it's suspended so this kind of thing doesn't happen? Grrrr!
well, if you recall an earlier post about me getting a ticket in NM in may, i think that my have something to do with it. i got notice from the Secretary of State's office about a week and a half ago that this ticket still wasn't paid (i had forgotten all about it) and that my license would be suspended. i got on the phone and paid it with a credit card over the phone and they said it would be sent to Jesse White's office here in IL. i then called there and talked to them and they said it should be taken care of by saturday. i assumed everything was fine. but i don't know if this was the *only* reason it was suspended or what. so i have to call and check that out. its all so very frustrating.
I would have cried, Jeremy. I would've been an red-faced, unidentifiable, tear-drop manufacturing puddle of crybaby goo ...
Sorry they were such meanies.
Now the average MP (military policeman) is not the smartest bear in the forest . . .but this guy takes the cake.In Germany, in the Box, (the Combat Maneuver Training Center in Hohenfels, Germany, six miles long, three miles wide, every square inch 3 cubic feet of Evil Mud), there are roads charitably called 'tank trails' for that is what they are. Rules are you run with just teeny tiny lights on, just enough so some eighteen year old driving a 70-ton Abrams tank does not turn your Humvee into a recycled Yugo.
Anyway, we're coming back in the ole Hum-vee from a night mission. We're just about home safe, CPL (corporal) Kolle is driving, the commander, CPT (captain) Crider is in his usual I'm the commander, dammit post, and I'm up on the gun, up top. We get pulled over by a MP Humvee just inside the sign that warns us to fully turn our lights on, just as Kolle turns them on, flashing this guy.
He leaves his Humvee parked in the middle of the tank trail (no lights on--MP vehicles even have a red/white/blue light bar!) and comes over to read us the riot act. Only he gets read the riot act by CPT Crider- -this idiot's only a Private First Class (PFC)-- for leaving his vehicle there, on a slope. 'Bout that time Kolle and I look over, and his vehicle's not where it was 30 seconds ago--it's slowly rolling down the hill towards the T intersection at the bottom. CPT Crider is oblivious and so's the MP; they're yelling at each other. As the MP truck sort of squelches into the intersection, up comes a M-2 Bradley tracked vehicle. (A Bradley is an infantry vehicle with an attitude, and it weighs 32 tons; a HMMV weighs 1.25 tons. Edge: Bradley) The Bradley is hauling ash, and the driver sees the truck too late, manages to sort of swerve into one arm of the T, and only succeeds in hitting the truck with the full force of the Bradley sideways rather than forwards where the tracks would have stopped it. It was like smacking a home run with a corked bat. The Humvee totally goes airborne and off the road, and lands with that solid noise that means everything that possibly could snap just did. No one was hurt, though I think that MP had to change his underwear . . .
We were there an hour while everybody got everything straightened out. We finally head back to the barracks, and Kolle and I are snickering the whole time and CPT Crider can't figure out why. Finally, we get all our gear unloaded and start laughing until we're both crying . . .so stupid!
So it was late, late on a Friday night. No, make that Saturday morning. It was 1:00 AM. We'd gotten a late night out of Chicago, and it was at least 8 hours up to Poplar, WI where I was headed home witn William for fall break.The crazy thing about the tollway to Milwaukee, is that the sign for the exit is about a 1/4 mile before the exit. So if you're in the wrong lane, you'll totally miss the turn. Which I did. Without noticing. We cruised on for about 15 minutes, beck "pounding" through the stereo. Pounding as much as it could in The Jalopy.
THe Jalopy, it should be mentioned, was a grimy 1983 Mercury Marquis. Two-tone gray. I think it was missing a hubcap or two. With Wisconsin plates. But nothing too terrible. No accident, no real rust damage. It had been my grandparents, and before them, another older family friend.
Anyway, we cruised along, totally oblivious to the fact that we had just missed our turn, until things started to look a little wrong. "I don't think this is the tollway," I said. "Let's find a place to ask for directions."
"I don't think there are stoplights on the tollway," said William.
"Yeah. Well, there's a gas station that looks open."
So when the light turned green, we flipped on the blinkers and turned across the highway into the parking lot of a gas station. Which was, from this angle, quite obviously closed.
Cue the flashing blue lights.
"Oh great," I said. William and I sort of smirked at each other, expecting a little harassment. After all, it was 1:00 AM and we were in the parking lot of a closed gas station in a ritzy suburb. In a dingy old car with Wisconsin plates, two backpacks, and a guitar. Driven by a long-haired whiteboy with a goatee, with a man what looked like a pirate riding shotgun. Yes, I suppose we figured a little scrutiny was probably in order, even though we knew we had nothing to hide.
We waited in the car.
Now, at this point, I had to admit that I was a little nervous, for two reasons only. The first was that this car had just been given to me by my grandparents, and I didn't know whose name the car was in. And the second reason was that I had actually handled pot for the first time in my life, that night, in a bust in Burgh Hall, where I was (as most of you know), a Resident Assistant. It was not even an ounce, in a tiny cellophane package. It looked so dry and awful, I was sort of embarassed that I found it. But nonetheless, I was a little nervous that maybe there was some way, regardless of how remote, that a dog might be able to smell it on me, or something. I know it sounds ludicrous.
The cop walked up.
"Can I see your license and registration?"
"Sure."
I cut to the chase: "This car was just given to me by my grandparents; I'm not sure whose name it's in."
"Ok."
The police officer looked at our licenses and the paperwork for the car.
"Eventually, he looked back at us in the car. He paused a beat.
"You boys got anything in thar car tonight that I need to know about?"
I kind of assumed he wasn't asking for my New Testament, so I played dumb. Nice, unevasive, but dumb.
"Like what?"
"Guns, drugs, alcohol."
I noticed that he put them in order of importance.
"No sir. We don't have any guns, we haven't been drinking, and neither one of us does drugs."
I should have told him that I busted some kids for a measly amount of pot at a Christian school not 3 hours ago.
"You don't have anything in the car?"
"No sir."
"Alright... see, I see some ash there on your dashboard, and some plant material there on the floor of your car, so I'm afraid I might have to get a K-9 unit to come sniff out your car."
"Ok."
I'm thinking, ash on the dashboard -- dust, because I haven't cleaned the car, and plant material on the floor, like lawn clippings from my yard in Wisconsin. Obviously he was looking for a reason.
"Please step out of the car." The officer went back to his car to look some stuff up. Or maybe to just try and make us nervous or something.
We both got out of the car, William on one side, me on the other, waiting. About that time, another cop car showed up and just shined their lights on us.
The cop came back.
"There's nothing in the car I need to know about?"
"No sir. We haven't been drinking and neither of us do drugs."
"...because I don't care if it's just a little bit of pot... you just can't have like, a lot of something."
"... there aren't any drugs in the car."
"Ok."
So the cop went back to his car.
Now, in retrospect, I think I should have just offered that he search the car... and I wasn't trying to be smart -- I just knew that there wasn't anything in the car, so it didn't even occur to me to offer that he search it.
The cop came back.
"I think I'm going to have to get a K-9 unit to come sniff out your car."
"Ok," I said.
"I'd really hate to have to do that."
"Well, there isn't anything in the car."
"Yeah, see, I'd hate to have to get a K-9 unit to sniff out the car, because sometimes when they smell something, they start tearing into the upholstery, and I'd hate to see that happen to you."
I nodded. It seemed appropriate. That would really stink. But of course, there are no drugs in the car, and it didn't occur to me to offer that he search the car himself.
"Hold on."
The cop went back to his car.
We waited.
By this time, we've been standing in the lot of he gas station for about 45 minutes. THe cop kept coming back, telling us how sorry he'd be if he had to call in a K-9 unit to sniff out my car.
Sorry because it would be a pain in his butt, and he wouldn't find anything!
By this time, I was sort of starting to get annoyed that things were taking so long, and they weren't doing anything other than threatening to bring in a K-9 unit. I felt like I needed to express to the officer somehow the fact that, "No really, honest and for true, we really actually do not have any contraband in the car."
The cop came back.
"You're sure you want me to call in a K-9 unit? I could do that."
"If you want to, that's ok, but there's nothing in the car, sir."
"I mean really, I don't want to keep you boys longer than you need... you're sure you don't want me to call in a K-9?"
I took a deep breath, and said what I had been thinking throughout the whole ordeal.
"Officer, I would crap my pants if your dog found anything in my car, because I would have no idea how it got there."
He kind of smirked, I think, under his steely cop exterior.
He looked in the back seat, which was empty except for a guitar case and two backpacks.
"Is that your guitar?"
*sigh* "Yep."
"What kind is it?" he asked, all inquisitive and interested-like.
"It's a Washburn."
"Oh, you know the factory is right up the road..."
"Yeah, I know." Pause. "Do you want to see it?"
"Yeah!" as though I was going to hand him the guitar and he was going to bust out Stairway or something on it.
But he just shined his maglite into the soundhole.
Satisfied, he turned off the light and I put the guitar back.
"So do you know why I pulled you over?"
"Nope. We just missed the turn onto the tollway and were going to ask for directions, but it's closed."
"There's a 'no left turn' sign there -- you made an illegal left turn."
"Oh! Wow, I didn't even notice," I said (completely honestly surprised) "I'm sorry. There was no one around, and I didn't see the sign."
"Yeah. Well, trucks come over that hill and rear end people when they're stopped there on a green."
"I see. Well, we were just trying to get up to Wisconsin for fall break -- what's the best way to get back to 94?"
And so, to make a long story a little shorter, the cop told me to just take 41 until it hit 94 again, and go from there. Which worked quite well.
And he didn't give me a ticket. Which made me a little thankful, ultimately, in a weird sort of way.
Pedro- was the pot that tiny bit you'd found in the cigarette pack behind the amp the night I was your back-up? Cause if that was the first pot you ever found, you did it like a pro.
Snide comment-notice that neither Matt nor Peter posted their cop stories until they found out that publishing might be involved....
Yep. I had been meaning to post that story here for a long time, but there didn't seem to be a reason to hurry it. Until FAME and FORTUNE knocked on my door, and Amy, when FAME calls, I answer.FAME!
I'm gonna live forever...
It's totally true though.
How come I get all the pointed remarks around here, irregardless of truth?
But she's right of course.
. . I never found pot when I was an RA, but I could have started my own liquor store . . .
thats what 94 turns into when you miss the exit. its right by my work. i know the area you are referring to. and the cops out there have nothing to do at all except threaten people with K9 searches and so on. thats a pretty funny story pedro.
ive been putting off putting this story up, but i suppose it'd be a crime to not post it. hahaha a CRIME get it???summer 99. tucson, arizona. a time spent enjoying idle youth following my first full year at NP. i was working a bit, but mostly just going through the motions one goes through when adjusting to "life at home" after your first taste of "life at college." in other words, i still had a curfew. i believe it was 1am.
one friday nite, i was returning home from a night out with friends. i was driving my 1990 corolla down the main drag of north tucson, Oracle Rd. with me were two friends, (jimmy and mike, they were brothers) whom i was giving a ride home. i was about 15 minutes from home, and it was about a quarter to one, but if i was going to get mike and jimmy home, i was going to be late. so i started to drive a bit faster.
somewhere near the tucson mall (an area busting with commerce, but dead this time of nite,) i saw THE LIGHTS behind me. you know... THE LIGHTS. since Oracle Rd. is a big three-laner with no shoulder, i turned right at the first chance i got, which was the mall parking lot.
in this empty parking lot, i came to a full stop, and the cop parked his car behind mine, with the big LIGHT on us and everything. before he got to my window, i already had my liscence out of my wallet, and mike (who was riding shotgun) and i started searching the contents of my glove box for the all-important REGISTRATION and PROOF OF INSURANCE. its been my experience that its always good to have that shit all ready to go as soon as you can. you know, show the cop that you're a pro, you went to driver's ed, you're not hiding anything, and give an overall air of cooperation. after all, i was doing 50 in a 40... but there were NO other cars around, and i pulled over as soon as i could.
now, being the 18 year old that i was, my glove box was a war-zone at the time. old fliers from shows my band played in high school, unorganized car documents, road maps, blank tapes, garbage, and other assorted clutter. so by the time that the cop was at my door, i handed him the liscence, but mike and i were no where near finding the other two requirements. i was begining to not look like a pro. i took a plastic bag which, along with reciepts from car repairs and inspections, was SUPPOSED to contain my proof of insurance. as i was in the driver's seat, mike continued to excavate the remaining contents of the glove box. jimmy waited patiently in the back seat.
now, there was one more thing in that glove box that i have left out. an item that's very presence was about to... trigger... where the story goes next:
this item was a cap gun. but not just any old cap gun. the kind that (once the tiny orange ring in the barrel was removed) could be mistaken for an actual 9mm from as close as two feet away. i know, i know, i know.. that is a very stupid thing to have sitting in your glove box. but i was 18. and being the 18 year old that i was, i was constantly giving rides to friends. and my running joke was that whenever someone was riding shotgun in my car for the first time i'd make up an excuse for them to go into my glove box...
"uh, hey, can you find this tape in my glove box, it says "FUGAZI" on it..."
"oh, ok, grady..." <open glove box... move a few things around...> "HOLY #$%^$! WHAT THE $%&&% IS THIS DOING IN HERE?!?!?!"
hahahaha got 'em every time.
now. mike had ridden in my car a few times, but had never seen or heard about my little secret suprise in the glove box. so as i am concentrating on the plastic bag in my lap, i suddenly hear an unfamiliar noise to le left of my head. that noise went like this:
<CLICK!>
mike had found the toy gun, and for all he knew it was real. not knowing what the hell to do, he had set it on his lap. but when i heard the <CLICK!> i turned to my left to see a real, live, bullet-shooting-gun in front of my face.
"PUT THE WEAPON ON THE GROUND!"
i dont know much about guns, but i know that it only takes one or two CLICKs before you can pull a trigger and fire a bullet off. now, for some very strange reason unknown to me, i did not begin to panic quite yet. i simply turned to this officer and said "oh, its a toy."
"PUT THE WEAPON ON THE GROUND!"
"ITS A TOY! ITS A TOY!"
i was shouting by this point, but still not yet panicing. i can actually recall that the actual thought going through my head was: "its a toy, there is no way that i am going to get shot over a toy. no way is this cop going to shoot me over a toy. i just told him it was a toy. he is totally not going to shoot me."
and at this point, he has put the gun in the window and it is aimed at mike, who is now a shade of white i did not now was physically possible for itallian-blooded males to achive. and he is still shouting: "PUT THE WEAPON ON THE GROUND!" as i am still yelling "OFFICER! ITS A TOY!" still not paniced, just shouting because he is shouting.
now keep in mind that this member of tucson's finest was shouting "PUT THE WEAPON ON THE GROUND!" but what he MEANT was, "PLACE THE WEAPON ON THE FLOOR OF YOUR CAR!" and for some reason i immediatley focused on the word GROUND and understood the command to be "THROW THE GUN OUT THE WINDOW SO IT LANDS ON THE GROUND OUTSIDE YOUR CAR! THAT WAY IT WILL BE ON THE GROUND! BECAUSE IF I WANTED YOU TO PUT IT ON THE FLOOR OF YOUR CAR THAT'S WHAT I WOULD HAVE SAID! SO C'MON NOW, BOY, I'M THE GUY WITH THE GUN AIMED AT YOU AND YOUR FRIEND, SO C'MON AND THROW THAT PISTOL OUT THE WINDOW SO WE CAN BOTH MAKE SURE THAT IT IS DEFINATLEY LYING ON WHAT WE BOTH UNDERSTAND AS THE GROUND- WHICH IN THIS CURRENT SCENERIO MEANS THE GROUND OUTSIDE YOUR CAR!"
so that's what i did. i very calmly reached over to mike's lap with my right hand. mike, petrified, already had both hands on the ceiling of the car, as did jimmy in the back seat. i reached over to mike's lap, still repeating "its a toy, its a toy." and grabbed the gun. now the cop's gun is definatly aimed at my face. toy gun in my right hand, i begin to move it towards my driver's side window in order to succesfully "PUT THE WEAPON ON THE GROUND".
now. as i said, i STILL was not panicing, but mike and jimmy were. but looking back on those two seconds, i have to say that they have to be the scariest and stupidest two seconds of my entire life. because when you have what a member of law enforcement believes to be a firearm in your hand, and that officer has a gun, loaded, cocked, and aimed at your body, YOU DO NOT MOVE THAT GUN CLOSER TO THE OFFICER. because at that moment, that officer has a thing called PROBABLE CAUSE. sometimes probable cause is mis-used by law enforcement, but this cop had no reason to secod guess wether i was holding a candy bar or a wallet. he had every legal right to end my 18 year old life, right then and there. i dont believe i was holding it in a way that looked like i was ready to fire, but it was still completley insane.
<BREAK.>
the gun landed on the GROUND, just next to the cop's left foot. a tiny piece of it broke off, making the sound that plastic toys make when they break. in a bizzare instant of reaction, the officer pointed his gun at the toy lying on the asphalt, back at us once more, saw that all six hands were now on the ceiling of my car, and holstered his gun.
then the panic rushed in. like a tidal wave. in an instant i came pretty close to seeing my life flash before my eyes. i imagined what it would feel like to have a bullet enloged in my brain. my blood rushed, nay speeded through my veins. the feeling did not leave for close to half an hour.
well, within minutes, tucson mall's deserted parking lot was filled with somehwere near SIX or SEVEN police cruisers. and we had to hear a lecture from EACH of the TEN cops who showed up. ONE AT A TIME. i know it was stupid to have the gun in my glove box. and man did that story about the running joke i had- suprising first-time passengers in my car with the cap gun- sound more and more stupid to each cop i had to tell it to. but GAWD the same lecture from each cop got made me more queasy each time i heard it, especially when they got to the part where they'd say "i would have shot you."
an HOUR later, cop #1, the cop who pulled me over, the cop who nearly ended my life, that cop shows up at my window again. and he has... a speeding ticket. OH YEAH! this was all because i was doing 10 over the limit. apparently, he was so shooken up over the whole ordeal that it took him an hour to do my speeding ticket. one of the other cops said it was his first time he's ever had to pull his gun on the job. wow. he gives the usual "you have such and such days to do such and such" in a very somber, hushed tone. and then he says "ok, i'm going to cut to the chase. you made a very big mistake, and so did i. you should be dead. i should have shot you. i dont know why i didnt. it scares me. the fact that i DIDNT shoot you scares me more than the fact that i ALMOST shot you."
i asked him why he hesitated. he said he had no idea, but that the fact that he hesitated scared him. i asked if it was because i was yelling "ITS A TOY!" he got very angry at this suggestion. i shut up real quick. he handed me back the two peices the toy gun was now in. and we drove away, thew the toy out the window on the way, and i got home an hour and a half late for curfew. i told my parents "i got a speeding ticket." they still dont know the whole story.
i often think how fortunate i am. how i should have died. how in this case of STUPIDITY v. THE LAW, STUPIDITY won.
but the frightening part is to consider how the situation might have transpired had i not been an anglo kid in a japaneese import on the middle-class north side of tucson. what if i had been wearing a bandanna? what if i had a shaved head and was driving a lowrider cadilac? what if i were black? did the fact that it is legal to have a concealed weapon in the state of arizona save my ass, or put me closer to death? how different do you view this story when i tell you, here at the end, that the cop in question was african american?
dammit, I suppose carrying a vintage phaser don't quite come as close to that. The worst I've ever had was a speeding ticket. Though my brother has somewhere near 5 duis and will not have a license for another year and a half, had to spend a week in jail, probably will never be able to afford insurance ever again and more likely that not isn't welcome in the commonwealth of Kentucky anymore. I did almost kill myself and a fellow student on the way to the airport once, but no police were involved so I'll shutup.
Good story about the toy gun, a definite winner, all my stories are stupid little things like, getting pulled over and being told "now, you came up on that red light back there pretty fast, and then you got to the last stop sign, signaled for a left, and then turned off your signal and went straight. You had anything to drink?" Damn Colorado! I think that leuitenant's story was frickin funny, wish I was there. I am also glad that the 'mob action' law in chicago was deemed unconstitutional, I mean come on, getting arrested for standing on a street corner. "What is this dress like gand bangers night?" Now is that a question you honestly ask 6 white guys standing outside of what once was Loree's?
...I'm goin ta jail... *shut up chris*
hey you with the harmonica, your friend is pretty smart. you should listen to him.
Nothing like Chris to almost get us all in trouble.
tell the story!
ive got enough cop stories. plus im sure he remembers it better than i.
OK, so it was after the Von Steuben Halloween dance, remember now we have all been hanging out at George's WAY to long, I had my fist sundae there at a wee little 6 years old. But we were standing around deciding where to go, or waiting for someone to come out of Loree's or something, when a squad car pulls up and the cops get out. The first thing out of the cop's mouth was "What is this dress up like gang bangers night?" Now you can imagine how thugish we looked all of us in jeans and combat boots and wearing more black than anything (it was high school remember most of us (but not me) were very fond of the color, or absense there of, black). He gives us a little speach, "This is a respectable neighborhood, the poeple around here don't want trouble from you." Little did he know if he would have arrested us he wouldn't have gotten an ear full from the entire neighborhood, seeing as it was all professor's children, pta member's children, and me the pastor's son, but that's another story. The funny part to the entire thing is about halfway through the lecture Chris pulls out his harmonnica and starts playing and singing, dunna-na-na-na we're going to jail, about two bars of that gets out before Erik clamps his hand over his mouth which encited "you've got a good friend there, listen to him." All in all pretty funny when you think it used to be illegal to stand with more than 3 poeple together on a street corner, mob action, gotta love Chicago.
short version:
i went to court. i was going to fight the one ticket for obstructing an intersection. i sat in court, the judge called me up and i told him my D.L. was reinstated. he said they'd have to pull up an abstract of my record and to sit and wait. the clerk pulled me into the hall and said she got the abstract and my D.L. was cool. if i plead guilty to the charge of DWLS i would get 12 months court supervision (meaning it doesn't go on my record) and i would have to pay $84 'just court costs'. and they would throw out the ticket i was hellbent on fighting. i expressed how i was looking forward to fighting it, but that this was an acceptable deal. i signed some stuff, then waited. the judge called me up again and asked if i had read what i signed. i said not really but it was explained to me. he handed it to me to read again. then we chatted, he told me to pay the $84 before the next court date and i wouldn't have to go the next court date. i said ok. then i left. and i got to drive by the joliet correctional facility where Joliet Jake gets out of in Blues Brothers. awesome. $84 sucks though. i didn't have to pay $84 the last 2 times i had this happen...
Baggins should be glad he didn't have to contest his tickets today...are you looking into a legal career? (just giving you a hard time). When Wags mentioned "cops" and Josh Jackson, I knew something illegal might follow--J.J. made an explicit reference to drugs & their role in the creation of art in my freshman Philosophy of Aesthetics course and I thought he was so cool and a free spirit to say something like --I had a crush on him for months after but still don't think he knows who I am to this day. He is indeed a cool cat. And I love that ginger hair.This is hysterical that Pedro mentioned that, on that night he & Captain were harassed by the cops, he had just busted some kids for a certain illegal substance at North Park. I was in that room! A few years later he was discussing that night at a party and I told him one of the kids was me..he had no recollection! It was probly BLVDGIRL who was the other RA, I didn't know many people then so I don't clearly recall all who were involved. I was in Burgh with a few kids I had met-- I hadn't been at North Park for too long when it occured. My fellow criminals shall remain nameless...we had lots of booze because someone over 21 was visiting and stocked my friends up. Like I said I was new to NPU (then NPCollege)--I didn't realize they were serious when they said it was "a dry campus." I didn't even know my friend had any weed...I was freaked out enough just to be caught with booze. The ironic thing is, I hadn't even cracked a beer or had anything in me. I was a wild child in high school & had straightened up by then...that's part of the reason I went to a Christian school, to stay on the stright & narrow.
I have been busted by real cops for bad things...unlike Pedro, we really did have "something" in our car & it was an awful experience. Some woman saw us getting high & called the cops on a cell. We kept insisting we were just smoking cigarettes but they searched the car & found otherwise. I was 16...my best friend and I had a pipe, a bag, two joints & a homemade bong in our car, but pleaded to the cops & our parents that we were just "experimenting." They were like, you guys could run a small head shop with all that crap, experimenting my ass. I had to go to court several times, write an essay for the judge on why drugs were bad, check in with a state-sponsored counselor each month and be on probation for six months. I think the judge liked my essay so he went easy on me. Plus I wasn't all disrespectful like a lot of the kids in juvy. I was too scared. I wasn't allowed to leave the country while on probation, but I'd already paid to go to England on our high school trip. I got special permission to go when the court saw I was basically a good kid, albeit a huge pothead.
Those days are over...now I am the fine, upstanding citizen you know me as today :)
My story is a simple one of a boy trying to get to a gig.I awoke that day, I grabbed my drumstick bag, and headed for the local mass transit. Wearing my lucky cargoes, I had nothing to fear. Milwaukee ran the 30 to downtown, and I took it often. I knew I was going to be cutting it close. I had a gig that night in Chicago playing with Pedro. This was Pre-Red Vinegar. Back in the day. Through the wayback machine. In love with the words I am typing.
As I departed the downtown bus, I made for the Amtrack terminal. I had missed the Greyhound Express to Chicago and there wouldn't be another one for 3 hours. The train would be more expensive, but it would get me there sooner. The Amtrack station was on the opposite direction. Before I got more than 10 yards, a cop in shorts on a bicycle approached.
"How cute," I thought,"a bicycle cop."
I was smiling as he brought his bike to a stop, blocking my path.
"Where you coming from?" he asked.
I was in shock. He was talking to me. This was new. Being an avid skateboarder, I new what it was like to be hassled by many a different kind of cop. I had never been stopped by a bicycle cop before. After a few beats, reality sank in.
"The bus stop back there," I motioned as I spoke.
"Where you headed?" He was checking my pockets.
"The train station," I said, totally creeped out.
He took off his sun glasses and wrote something down on a piece of paper.
"What's in the bag?" he asked.
I showed him my drumsticks. He was not impressed. He began speaking to a walkie talkie that was velcroed to his shoulder. Then he looked up.
"You got any I.D.?" He asked. I had two forms of I.D. on me. He spoke in to the microphone,
"Did it say anything about the perp carrying a black bag over?"
Time passed. Nervously, I spoke. "What's this about officer?" I asked.
"Someone ran out on a restraunt bill," he said.
More time passed. A dog howled in the distance. On a far away planet, an entire civilization rose from a primordial ooze and developed thumbs only to use them to obliterate each other with thumb bombs. Finally, a voice on the other end spoke.
"No. He was wearing tan pants. Over."
I looked at my pants. TAN!
DAMN MY CARGOES!
The cop looked at me.
"Well, I don't think it was you. You can go."
"Thank you, officer," I said and I was on my way. But I was pissed. This ordeal took a good 15 minutes and I most likely missed my train. I doubled back and headed for the Greyhound Bus garage on the other side of Dunkin Donuts. I knew they ran a local. It was my last chance. As I crossed through the garage, I police cruiser swung in and blocked my path.
"Hey, where you coming from?" said the driver as he stepped from the car.
"Hey, look guys," I said, "I just talked to a bicycle cop."
"Yeah, right,"the partner said. "What's in the bag?"
"Drumsticks, officer."
"You got ID?"
"let me guess. tan pants, right?"
wouldn't you know it? i was in a pack of like 15 other cars, all doing 80-ish on 94 just like 10 minutes before crossing over in to MN. there were like 4 cruisers sitting around a corner after a hill, and wouldn't you know, they pulled over the guy with IL plates. bastards. i've gotta pay 200 bucks before January somethingth. not very noteworthy episode, however. my running tally of pull-overs this year:
thats 6 this year. i thought there were 7, but i guess its only 6. im considering not driving ever again. i need a tshirt that says 'CopMagnet' or 'Cops :heart: me' or something.
- way back from AZ. - speeding ticket
- week later, way to cov. point - speeding ticket
- on damen, pulling a U-turn with a cop behind me. that was dumb. - i got a warning.
- once at work, when i went through an *orange* light. i swear it changed way too fast from green-to-yellow-to-red for traffic conditions. - warning
- a block from my house when i got arrested and all that. - scroll up for results of that pullover.
- this weekend in WI. - speeding ticket.
I was driving out to wheaton a few weeks, possibly month (singular, yes) and we were on like, 355 or 2xx...whatever is perpendicular to I90 @ IKEA...and we're in the pack, so guys passes, and then everyone slams on the brakes...why? because there's at least six cruisers lined up just ready to pick people off...further down the road...their victims, about four cars pulled over and getting the business... I couldn't really believe it. I actually find it really humorous that in our world of globalisation, our government is just another corp. I just think that it's absurd, you know, like raising to toll (onthe tollway) even though IDOT generated 300 million dollars in surplus money...am I just juvenile or do you guys find that dumb too.</offsubject>
<onsubject>
so, i got picked off like that down in southern illinois, or north american egypt or somewhere have a great day
<donerambling>
Okay, I'm getting Karna on here so she can school all of us in the 4th amendment. You don't have to talk to cops if you don't want to. You don't have to let them search your stuff if you don't want to. If they pull you over and you have done nothing wrong they can't search your car. I'll get her to write up a little primer on the 4th amendment because there is a whole lot of stuff you can say no to.
Have her get her own login, even if she won't always follow the Diner.
it was on the way to Grand Marais this july. i was going 82 in a 55. somehow i got a warning. the cop said he was on his way to another call and this was my 'lucky day'. i guess so.
noah b. got a ticket tonight when i was with him. for the notorious 'turning left from foster eastbound onto bernard northbound between 4pm-6pm mon-fri. thing is, the cops were seriously just WAITING in the alley. you don't see them before you turn, so you think you're home free. but no, they pulled out of the alley before we werew even finished turning. $75 or $105 and you take traffic school and it doesn't go on your driving record. i wish i had the option of stuff not going on my record. i hate my record. the thing is, i don't violate the traffic laws more than other people. i just get pulled over more than other people. and i'm not really drving conspicuous vehicles either. except when i had a busted up rear end (my old honda). but that was one time. im just sick of it all. blah.
get karna on here. she would make a delightful and long-overdue addition to this here joint.
what about people who LIVE on that block... are they exempt from the sign?
as far as i know, evan, anna, and kerry have all gotten tickets for that very offense when they LIVED on that block. so i dont know.
I can see them making the law to keep people from flying through that neighborhood to skip the light (like I have done and do, after 6PM) but what the heck are people who live on that street supposed to do? I mean, it's a one way!
they do that because foster isn't always necessarily and two-lane street (or, whatever, four of something, you know what i mean). So if there is a row of people parked on the south side of the street and you're trying to turn left during rush hour, chances are, nobody's going to let you turn, and that means you're backing up traffic even more than it is already (i know that we all know how foster gets at peak hours). The people that live on that street just have to be creative, if you ever go to a really good driving school (i.e. NOT one sponsered by the state, but one where you actually WANT to go) they'll more likely than not teach to just avoid the left hand turn thing all together. Regardless, that's kindof cheap on the cops' part. I like to look at the whole things like we're playing a game (not in the case of serious crime though) where the cops do their best to bust, and we do our best to not get busted, the only problem is that the cops have all these toys (radar guns), and they've made ours toys illegal (radar detectors, jammers), so the game isn't any fun anymore.
While in Milwaukee, I developed a 3 week love affair with laser tag. I knew a bunch of guys who had the guns and harnesses and what not. They played on saturday nights, late, like after most people had passed out or what have you. We would go down to the patio concourse outside of the student center, set territories and either play capture the flag or elimination style games, usually consisting of two teams. We had clearance from one of the weekend security guards who knew the principal players. Apparently, they had been playing all winter. I just knew a guy who knew a guy who played and was one of the new kids.So, one night we were playing a two level game which included the concourse and the stairwells through the parking garage underneath. My team knew that a kid on the other teamed named Matt Chef liked to set up in the walkway of the parking garage and pick people off if they came down the stairwell. I was to go solo down one stairwell and draw his fire while a teammate snuck up behind him. As I rumbled down the stairwell, I noticed blinking lights. Matt was on the ground yelling "ok, ok, ok" and one of Milwaukee's finest was patting him down. A light was in my eyes and someone was yelling at me to show my hands. Then I heard Matt say that it was only laser tag. I dropped my toy gun and put my hands up. They wrangled the three of us over to the squads and asked how many other players there were. We told them and they had us go sit down by some skateboarders.
Apparently, two squads had come to the parking garage to bust some skaters and thought that Chef was a gang banger. Two weeks earlier, a Milwaukee Police Officer had shot a man off Capital Drive because he thought the man had a gun, but it turned out to be a tape cassette case. So the cops were not too enthused to stumble across our laser tag game. Campus Security showed up and the guard vouched those of us who had student IDs. Which I didn't. Not on me anyway. So they were reading me the riot act about tresspassing when I remembered that the address on my Drivers Liscense was the address of Sandburg Hall, the res hall in Milwaukee. I showed it to one of the officers and he let me go. They really couldn't legally do anything to us besides lecture us on common sense. The skaters lost their boards. That was the last time I played laser tag, even though those dudes played every weekend through summer break. I spent most of the rest of my Saturday nights with one of my first Milwaukee loves, the gin and tonic.
neoacerbitas, they can't avoid left turns, because Bernard is a one way street. I suppose they can if they use the alley, but then they'd have to back up on the oneway to get the parking spots between Foster and the alley... which is l4m3.
During easter break from my second semester at UW-Milwaukee, I travelled to Coon Rapids to hang with my family. We all congregated at my uncle's house and then went to a park because it was a nice day. I brought along a 16 mm film camera to shoot footage for my Basic Filmaking I class.After shooting up all my film and eating a wonderful lunch, I got in my '77 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale and headed for Milwaukee. Shortly after merging with I-90, a State Squad pulled me over. I had expired tabs and was issued a ticket for driving with expired tabs. My registration had been fubar since moving to Milwaukee as my car was registered to my Milwaukee address and needed an emissions check. I was trying to get my Lake Nebagamon address listed as the car's address, but seeing as the addy on my D.L. was Milwaukee...I was full of bright ideas like this when I had no money.
Anyhoo, I accepted the ticket and rolled on. Upon entering Milwaukee, I took the Lincoln Parkway up along the shore of Lake Michigan, even though it was slightly longer. I had some radical right wing christian radio show on and needed the humor. Something about how the administration of the station was not going to allow songs that did not venerate the greatness of Jesus. No "good messages" music unless the music also praised Him. Priceless.
Next thing I knew, a Maroon County Mounty pulled me over. I rolled down the window, got out my stuff, and before he could even get a word out, I showed him the ticket I just got and said, "One of the blue cars just got me." The County guy laughed and said, "Ok, fella. Get where you gotta get to" and that was it. In retrospect, he is the best cop I have ever met.
So I cruised up by campus, stopped at the dorms, and asked my friend Alyssa to follow me to the lot over on Capital Drive where I had to park during the week. She followed me, but just as I was 30 feet from making my turn, a Milwaukee City cop pulled me over. I showed him my ticket from the State Cop, but he was not impressed. He noted that the State Cop issued me a ticket at 4:00 pm. It was now 8:30. Meanwhile Alyssa had pulled over behind the City Cop, and the back-up car was checking her out. She was a high anxiety type person, so she started tearing up. Now there was back-up for the back-up and like 6 cops running around. They were working her on the driver's side and passenger side windows. Then she just started bawling. A different cop came over to me and asked me where I was heading. I showed her my parking pass for the Captial Lot and she waved me along. No ticket.
About 20 minutes later, Alyssa crept in with her Taurus. Turned out her car was registered to her step-dad so there was a discrepency in name and she had a small melt down. The cops wouldn't let her drive off until they were sure she was under control. They didn't make a big deal about the registration because her car was so "girly".
So there you have it. Sate, County, and Municipal on the same drive. If only I had gotten hassled by the campus cops and an R.A. that night, but I think I went to 5th floor, got drunk, and played Galaga all night.
While in Milwaukee, I had no real job. I had worked in the loading dock for the food service up until my grandma died. They didn't believe me when I told them, so I never went back to work for them again. However, seeing as how I was 21 and most of my friends and associates were freshmen, there was one real easy way for me to make money.That first semester, I would run booze for anyone, provided they either payed for what I wanted to drink, or were willing to pony up a fairly steep to grossly unfair mark-up. Two weeks before finals, I was set for my biggest pay day yet.
It was a Friday, and I had been taking orders since Wednesday. UW- Milaukee has an very aggressive and tight security system that has one huge flaw. They don't set up the stations until 7:00 pm.
I had already secured some of the larger bulk items, like twelvers and cases of beer, as the orders came in. I would stick booze anywhere. The easiest way for me to get cases in was via computer boxes. Seeing as how I knew enough rich pricks from Janesville and Lake Mills, somebody somewhere was getting a new computer. I would fit about 8 - 10 twelve packs of cans in a 17 inch montor's box, depending. Throw in some styrofoam peanuts on the top, and the average campus security goon or R.A. either didn't have the time or a clue to hassle me.
Next came the big ticket items. Things like Jagermeister, Kaluha, Bailey's, the 1.5s of JD and Absolut. Those usually came in Friday during the day. I tried to deal with kids face to face. I put on my best Darth Vader and always made sure that my 6'6" roomie T-Bone was around when orders were taken and money was exchanged.
Occasionally, after my 1.5 of Tanq was secured, I would let the left over money from the beer take care of smaller items for friends. Pocket rockets of smirnoff vodka and peach schnapps were always good to have around, but the money taken in on Friday would usually cover things like my food for the next week, film, gas, and the occasional CD.
This was a choice weekend. I had 15 twelve packs of beer (mostly busch light) stored under my bed and behind some blankets. On the list, I needed to secure 2 fifths of Skyy, a liter of Malibu, a fifth of Captn., a 1.75 of Captain, a liter of Jag, 2 fifths of JD, a liter of Absolut, A liter of blue Maui, my 1.75 of the Tanq, a fifth of Smirnoff, a 1.75 of silver wolf vodka, a liter of phillips tequilla, a liter? of Mount Royal Lite Wiskey, 8 bottles of Boones Farm assorted flavors, 4 Mickeys and 4 O.E. 40s, a bottle of Goldschlager and a bottle of Bicardi 151.
I was getting off to a late start. I figured I would need to hit 5 or 6 different liquor stores in the area to get the best prices. A few places gave me a hard time, but none of them turned down my business. I got the Boone's Farm and the 40s in my bass case. I had most of my friends' stuff in my backpack with socks around and between bottles to negate the clanking sounds of bottles touching bottles. That was my first run in to the building at about 5:30. I delivered most of the stuff to the respective rooms to get it out of my hands as soon as possible. I started my next run from my car at 6:15. Most of the R.A.s were in their staff meeting now in a conference room off the front desk. I used a side door. It was deserted. Most of the residents were in the cafeteria. I had stuff in the bass case and backpack again. No problem. For my last run, I got lazy.
I think I had the bottle of Silver Wolf, my 1.75 of Tanq, the Goldschalger, and the blue maui, as well as tonic water, cranberry juice, and sprite all in a cardboard box with no top. As I entered the side door of the dorms from the same side door, I nearly ran into a man. He looked into my box and said, "I don't think so. Come with me."
He took me into the campus safewalk office and closed the door. He then introduced himself as the director of campus security. I held my ground. He asked me who the booze was for. I told him that it was payday and all of the booze was for me. He did not believe me. I did not care. I was stone cold. I knew that up until I dropped in his lap, he was on the way home after a long day of work. I knew he had places to go. He informed me that I was carrying roughly 5 times the normally alotted amount of alcohol for a 21 year old resident. I told him that I was sorry, but that I wouldn't be buying anymore until my next payday.
He asked me for my ID and disappeared. He came back 5 minutes later and told me that I would have to take the booze to my car except for one 750 ml bottle. I momentarily considered lobbying for the 1.75 of Tanq, but let it slide, opting instead for the Maui. He then escorted me to my car, where I placed the remainder of the contraband in my trunk. After that, he took me to the front desk where I had to register my alcohol. 5 minutes later I was on the phone to my boy Jesse, who with my car keys and a Dell Computer Box, muled in the rest of my payload and shared in the drunken bliss of a wannabe scam artist and the pretend bullets he dodged.
i can see all the present former RA's collectivley drop their jaws...
it's just a pain in the ass. you have to like, go around the block, and then the next block to until you going the otherway on foster...it's just traffic control for rush hour...seriously...it's more difficult because if you just go around the block you still have to cross foster, which isn't happening, so you just have to find a way to go west instead of east.
Yeah, I know it can be hard to be the man, so watch for things like that. Like if dude is always getting a new computer every weekend. I don't know how many times I lugged the same booze laden Dell Computers box past the same 4 RAs at the security checkpoints. I realize that at North Park, it would be nearly impossible for me to run that kind of racket due to the size of the school.One thing that is working really well up here at UW-Superior is that underagers in the dorms will buy 24 can cases of Coke and Sprite and fill them with beer cans to sneak them into the dorms. Anything like drum cases or those cardboard guitar cases are equally awesome. I will post more of my dirty tricks as I remember them.
So, if you drive the wrong way down St. Louis, and then down the alley directly behind the cop sitting there, you make him have to move, and because he's facing the other direction he doesn't see you coming, I've done it, but don't condone it due to high illegality, but it's very fun to break the law behind him and then make his ass move! It's all the fault of CAPS, the poeple in the neighborhood complained about the extra traffic during rush hour and people avoiding the light, it sucks. I got pulled over for it, and didn't know what was going on so I didn't even stop for the cop until in front of NPCC, what irony to get a ticket on front of my father's old church, well maybe not irony, but entertaining.
This trick also works if you drive the right way up St. Louis.
I meant that way you can still turn left off of Foster, and then make him move, doing twice the justice.
In which case you get a wrong way citation, which is probably more than the turn, plus he might assume you're doing it to avoid Bernard, and could slap you with something else if he was feeling saucy.Besides, even if he didn't see you, you'd still be breaking the reasonable law (St. Louis is one way), which in my eyes means you'd only be doing about half the justice. But I'm kind of a stickler like that.
Picky picky picky
alright, so its autumn '96, my friend nick and i just got off the blue line at irving park-we're going to his house a few blocks away.near the end of the platform,right at the head of the stairs which lead out on to the street,are big plate glass walls which prevent you from falling onto the tracks.this glass gets pretty grody being out in the fresh city air and all.so me and nick start writing in the grime on the glass. meanwhile,a westbound train is pulling in to the station.the conductor sees us and stops the train. he sounds an alarm-i didn't know cta trains had these-which sounds kinda like a really loud bullhorn. nick and i are like,"what?we're not doing anything wrong."so we just stand there.two cops come out of one of the train cars. what luck.now we can sort this out and everyone will have a laugh.ha.hahaha.these guys don't even want to hear what we have to say.in their eyes we're a couple of punk kids(i was 17 at the time)tagging on cta property.they get us against the wall and frisk us, asking us "what we write" what our tag names are.we try to explain that we were just writing in the dust,WITH OUR FINGERS.it doesn't help our plight that my friend has a giant broad-tip marker(which happened to be empty)in his pocket.it also doesn't help that there was plenty of graffiti all over the station.what really doesn't help our situation are the hundreds of cops that come onto the train platform during our conversation with the original two officers. seriously, there were at least 20 cops pouring up the stairs within 5 minutes of that train whistle going off.so based on the accusation of the blind train conductor, nick and i are hauled off to the 17th precinct station on pulaski near montrose.this is where the story gets somewhat interesting.in the station we're fingerprinted,processed,laughed at,etc.yes laughed at.whenever we tried to explain our predicament to someone, they would just laugh in our faces.we spent most of the three or so hours handcuffed to this 4" wide bench in a 8' by 10' interview room,staring at the detective who'd been assigned to our processing and the other 3 cops who were just standing around,intermittently laughing at us.so, while sitting on our bench, nick is searching for something to do.he decides to try cleaning the grimy dust from his fingers by wiping them against the wall, which is none the worse for it.i mean this room was dingy.while he's doing this another officer enters the room with a big camera. he's going to take pictures of us.he sees what nick is doing and becomes very indignant."what the fuck do you think you're doing?are you trying to tag up our station now, you little prick?"to which nick doesn't respond.so i try to explain for him that our fingers are dirty because we were writing in dust,with our fingers, and-"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" but he wasn't doing anything,he was just-"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP.DON'T SAY ANOTHER FUCKING WORD,YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" and it was at this point in time that only one course of action lay open to me.indeed, any human being throughout the entirety of history,finding themself in this identical situation would be possessed of the knowledge that there is only one thing to do.so i looked him straight in the eye,cracked a smile, and blew him a kiss. he didn't respond very well.he slapped me in the face."YOU FUCKIN' LITTLE ASSHOLE!GET THE FUCK UP."remember,i'm still handcuffed to this tiny bench."GET THIS PRICK THE FUCK UP.UNCUFF HIM!"a little spark seems to ignite in the eyes of the other 3 cops standing around.they take the cuffs off.they stand me up.they take turns punching me.they stop.i'm cuffed to the bench again."YOU'RE LUCKY YOU'RE A MINOR.OTHERWISE WE'D TAKE YOU IN THE BACKROOM AND USE THE PHONEBOOKS.YOU KNOW IT DOESN'T LEAVE A MARK IF YOU HIT A GUY THROUGH A PHONEBOOK."food for thought.so, anyway,long story longer, about an hour later my mom shows up, sobbing.she's upset.first i drop out of school, then i start smoking pot, now i'm tagging and going to jail. she walks over to me."mom, look, this is what happened-" "WHATTHEHELLISWRONGWITHYOU!YOU'REFUCKINGYOURLIFEUP! YOU'DBETTERSTRAIGHTENOUTANDFASTBECAUSE-" a litany of curses and admonitions.i have hard time making it out, shes speaking so fast.she's also hitting me about the face and chest in time to the yelling."mom.Mom.MOM.you're gonna cause more swelling." she stops.she's given pause."what do you mean? what are you talking about?" she takes her first really good look at me since arriving."WHAT HAPPENED?WHAT DID THEY DO?"the detective who's been sitting at the desk this whole time looks at another cop and says,"you saw her hit him, right?" and that was my first arrest.
Abbadon, I am sorry I am laughing at your story, as it sounds pretty messed up. I, too, was the victim of ignorant and power-tripping cops during my tender youtth. Maybe it's just the way you tell it, but I am laughing so hard I almost peed my pants. But arrested for tagging in the dust? Nick "tagging" the police wall with the dust on his fingers? Even if you made all this up, which I'm not saying you did, I thank you, because I haven't laughed so hard since my first visit to Pixyland.
i don't fib.well, yes i do fib from time to time, but i always cop to my lies immediately after telling them.pixyland is beyond words.how did you find it?
Personally, I've managed to avoid getting a ticket after making that turn. How? If I'm coming east on Foster, I make a right on Drake or St. Louis, to the alley just south of Foster, and then take that alley down to Bernard (which bypasses all the nasty traffic on Foster there anyway), make a left, and then come straight across Foster and go on home. The sign only says No Left Turn, after all. Hee hee! Rip the system!
He's making it up! All of it! Well no, actually, it's pretty much true. Heard it before...most of it anyway. Abaddon, if you get bored, you should relate the incident with the governor-elect's office et al. I don't know if I ever heard your account of that story.
i have not gotten the ticket for the left turn thing. the miracle isn't that i haven't gotten caught, but that i haven't been cocky enough to try it when its illegal. i have pulled dangersheep's trick of coming across foster before. and that works well enough, except its hard to come straight across. tensions are boiling in that little bottleneck and nobody really wants to let you cross. but it can work.
whatever happened with all of that? i'll do an interview if they want.
yo wags,even though its not really a cop story per se, i still think you should recount the tale of meeting jesse white when we were at that boxing match...
alright.
well, less than a week after the FIRST time i got arrested for 'driving on a suspended license' there was this boxing match. raskol's sister' landlord was connected to the whole thing, and got a bunch of tickets, which a crew of us went and saw. it was at this bar called Joe's, down in the North/Clybourn area of town. it was kind of weird.
so we're sittin, waitin for a match to start, when i am walking by the bar, and this guy gets up and says 'Hey Clutch!' by which i assume he's speaking to me, as i was wearing my Clutch t-shirt. i turn around and sort of recognize this guy. it turns out to be Jesse White, the Secretary of State of Illinois. the guy at the top of the ladder regarding driver's licenses and stuff in IL. kinda weird. i start talking to him, and he asks me if i have my driver's license on me. i mention that i actually have a suspended license and didn't know how to go about fixing the situation. he gives me a business card and writes down a number of his secretary or somebody, telling me to call her and she will straighten it out for me. on his word.
i thanked him and took me seat. unfortunately, i lost the card and was unable to make that call, but i got it straightened out anyways. for a time anyway... it was really weird, though.
dude he was totally downing cosmopolitans left and right.
I didn't get caught, but i don't know anyone that's actually broken INTERNATIONAL LAW so i figure that it's okay.when i lived in mexico, i came up here and lived with gramma for the summer, anyway, i totally trafficked drugs that year, the problem was that it was the wrong way, I totally took this shit down to mexico, totally the wrong direction.
"bring us the drugs, please!"
i don't really have any of my own cop stories but i enjoy reading the ones posted. unfortunately i almost always have limited time online so i can only indulge now and again because these stories tend to be on the long side. tonight i read grady's it's a toy story out loud to my roommate, chris. he and i had quite a chuckle over it.
This morning I was pulled over for speeding, rightfully so. I was going 65 or so in a 55, not bad. I was hoping for a warning but expected a ticket."License and registration?"
"Here ya go..."
"You're registration is expired."
"Really" - I really didn't know. "Since when?"
"November... can I have your licence?"
"Sure."
Waiting...
"Here you go. Slow it down a little. Here's your license, your warning, and a permit so you can legally drive until you get your registration taken care of. Have a nice day."
"Uhhh... wow, thanks, you too."Not only did I not get any ticket, but the actually helped me out by giving me a permit that will last for 4 days so I can get my registration renewed... I'm sure you can imagine my shock, amazement and new found fondness of state troopers.
thats pretty cool.
i got randomly searched at O'Hare in the work van the other day. they just made me get out and open the back door. then closed it and said 'have a good day'. i said 'thanks. you too.' and took off.
There was a cop that wanted to search my trunk in Wichita, but it was a rental and I couldn't figure out how to pop the trunk so he let me go through. That's a really effective deterrent.
It was an aiport security cop.
my uncle lived in wichita once...he saidthat it made him want to kill himself...maybe that explains the actions of the guard...
about 1/2 north of madison on our way to minneapolis for the fire theft show, phil realized that the tickets were sitting in an envelope in his apartment. the expression on his face when he first realized it caused me to say 'what? are you getting pulled over?' that was not the case, and he made a couple calls about it. then, as he was fiddling with the MP3 player and driving well over the speed limit, we passed a trooper who could have totally had our asses. but he didn't. phil said it was probably god saying 'im not going to do that to you, too...'
then, after we got back, i went bowling with my usual bowling crew on wednesday nights. abaddon also came along. i was giving him a ride home, and turned left onto his street. there was a cop coming out of that same street. since my car was in its accident, my front left-turn-signal doesn't flash. the rear does, but not the front. so when i turned left onto mike's street, the cop saw me *not signal*. he actually pulled out, turned around, and came back in and pulled up behind me when mike was getting out of the car. he followed me down the block, and pulled me over at the 2ND stop sign. he checked my license and insurance, and said everything seemed to be in order. i asked him why he pulled me over, and he said 'you didn't signal turning left. consider it a warning.' i said 'thanks' and proceeded on my way. i didn't get a ticket or anything, but i was really trying to go for a longer period of not getting pulled over at all.
well, this little story isn't very dramatic at all. and isn't REALLY in keeping with the theme of this thread. but, it fits better here than anywhere else i can think of.
driving home tonight after the 'wood and all. dropped abaddon off, and hit the road. right after the Cermak Plaza Tollbooth on I294S i notice my steering is a bit loose. i think a tire might be low or something, and that i will check when i get home. just before the exit to merge with I55, my left rear tire blows. so i pull over, clear all the junk from my trunk into my backseat (a considerable operation, if you've ever seen my trunk...), and do the whole change the tire thing. when i am tightening the nuts on the spare, a cop pulls up and puts his lights on. but this time, he was just giving me some protection while i finished the job, which is mega-cool. i thanked him before i pulled away. not much of a story, like i said. but it did have a cop, so...
now i need to buy a new tire. grrr.
I've already told a fair few people this story but I'll add it here as it probably belongs here.July 1997. I migrated from suburban Maryland to sunny (it was El Niño year) San Francisco. I was a none-too-wealthy ex-NIH visiting fellow on the way to becoming an even-less-wealthy UCSF postdoc so I was doing everything on the cheap. This basically consisted of loading a truck (Penske) with my few belongings and towing my car on one of those two-wheeled dollies. The truck was almost new (<5k miles) and in great condition. The dolly was a rusty PoS. I had already made the cross-country drive in my car the previous year (9k miles in a month) and loved the experience and was hoping this would be the same. It wasn't. Heading off into the unknown, all on my lonesome, was very very stressful and I found that I wanted to get it over with as soon as I could. I started at the crack of dawn and nearly made Kansas City before the adrenaline ran out that night. The next day I crossed the remainder of Missouri then Kansas (listening to a radio that could only pick up tornado warnings and religious phone-in programmes). I was in west Kansas in the dark when my instrument panel went completely black and I could no longer see the red glow from my tail lights in my mirrors. I had this overwhelming urge just to keep going. Couldn't stop and fix it. So, all I did was attach my red warning triangle to the back of my car and push on. I was heading across the flats of eastern Colorado and I saw that red and blue flickering in my mirror and pulled over and started praying. I was dog tired, very stressed and acutely aware that I had been driving with less than adequate lights. The officer came up to the window and I braced myself.
"Did you that your lights are not working?"
"Yes officer, I kind of suspected that there may have been a problem."
[PAUSE]
"I bet your fuse has blown. I used to drive one of thes trucks. The fuse box is down there and there should be a couple of spares in it. No, down there my your knee. It should be the first or second one from the top. Okay, yeah that one's blown. Put a spare in there."
[Truck is brilliantly illuminated]
"Thank you, officer!"
"Now it seems to me that if the fuse blew something must have happened to the wiring."
[Leads me to the back of the truck, picks up the wiring harness for the tow dolly and shakes it. All the lights promptly go out.]
"See there's your problem. Someone ran over this old cable and there's a short in it. Put some tape over those two strands and keep them apart. Now put that other spare fuse in there. See, now I can shake it and it doesn't short out."He didn't give me any kind of ticket or citation but just took my licence number so that he could justify his time as helping out a motorist in distress.
Thank you Mr. Colorado Highyway Patrol Officer whoever you are.
i can't say that i've never been assisted by an officer of the law. and im mighty thankful for the times when they've helped.
Let's see if I can do it justice.Anna and I went downtown DC today to have lunch with Jay. It was a relaxing, fun time. We left there at about 12:30 to head home. Now, Washington DC being the hellhole of traffic that it is, 66 stopped moving. I got on the beltway to take 50 home. It stopped moving. I got on Gallows to get home. It too was not moving much - though it was moving more than either 50 or 66 was, so I stayed put. It was about 1:15, and Anna was sleeping blissfully in the backseat of the car. I was listening to music quietly, trying to be calm as I hate traffic and it frightens me from time to time - I tend to get stressed out pretty easily, as those of you who know me well probably know.
So I get to the place I'm about to make a left turn. It is one block before the nasty intersection of Gallows and Lee Highway, which backs up notoriously, especially around lunchtime. If you make a left turn on Strawberry Lane, you can get around the intersection and take one two blocks over that doesn't back up as much. So I'm in the intersection, waiting for traffic in the opposing direction to slow enough for me to make my left turn. It does, and I go. A car, about five cars in front of me, makes an illegal U-turn and comes within inches of hitting my car, right in Anna's car seat. I scream, slam on my brakes, and he goes in front of me. Anna's still, AMAZINGLY, asleep even though I screamed (I think it was just one of those whispery omigod-I'm-shrieking-too-high-to-make-sound-screams). Now, we're not physically injured - just shaken up a bit. I do what any driver would do in my place - I beeped my horn to say WAKE UP YOU MORON. And... I flipped him off. I shouldn't have, and I usually don't. I've gotten very good at impulse control! The car *screeches* to a halt in front of me, and I grab my cell phone and dial 911. I'm about to press send when I see him reach into his pocket - and my heart has leapt into my throat. Is he about to shoot me?? I mean, jeeeeeze, I'm almost 8 months pregnant and I'm a young woman with a toddler in the car! No. He takes out his wallet and there's a badge in there. I put the cell phone down, but leave 911 cued up just in case he's insane, and open the window. He sticks his face in my car and begins screaming at me. "Young lady you do not ever flip anyone off! It is against the law..." He threatens to send a marked car to *TEACH ME A LESSON.* (Read: beat me up? Kill me? What??)
Now 1) He's not on duty. He's got a wife in the car (I think it's a wife anyway) and he's in a plain car, not an unmarked car, and is in civilian clothes. 2) He's being COMPLETELY inappropriate. Anna wakes up and starts crying about the bad man. She's completely shaken up - she's STILL upset about the bad man and this was about four hours ago. 3) That's an abuse of authority! 4) HE MADE A FRICKING ILLEGAL TURN AND ALMOST KILLED A PREGNANT WOMAN AND HER TODDLER.
Needless to say I have filed an official complaint. I only wish I'd gotten his badge number and name. I swear I thought he was going to shoot me if I asked though!
The whole thing stressed me out so much I almost lost control of my bladder (this sadly happens to pregnant women lots) and I've been having contractions for the past four hours. I just can't get past it. I'm still frightened.
I don't even know what to say. I am so sorry that happened. And that cop was a complete jerk! Just because he is a cop doesn't give him the right to do u-turns and scream at you for reacting like any normal person would, which is angry for almost getting in an accident. Did you get his license plate or anything? He should definitely get yelled at for that!
since when is it illegal to raise your middle finger while clasping the rest of your fingers against your palm? this country is nuts. absolutely nuts. that guy was WAY out of line dex. i'm sorry it happened to you. i got so angry reading this story i wanted to punch the motherfucker in the face (still do). i really hope your complaint gets some attention.
