Scene One: At a local Chevron about 1 mile away from place of residence and work. Parking lot and pumps are completely filled with cars of neighbors and old acquaintances. Suspect car has just entered the last empty parking stall and police car has torn into the parking lot with lights on and short siren noise. Police can remains parked behind suspect's car, lights on.
me: Hello
him: Did you know your car's registration is expired?
me: [small gasp] I had no idea. Is it really?
him: Yes. In fact, it has been for over two months.
me: [cheeks flush with embarrassment] I had no idea. I didn't get anything in the mail. I'm sorry.
him: May I see your driver's license and proof of insurance.
me: [hand him the requested items]
him: [returns to car]
[Moments later, the officer returns...]
him: Did you also know that your driver's license is expired?
me: I totally forgot.
him: Yeah, it's been expired for three months.
me: I'm sorry. I've just been so busy lately and part of that time I was out of the country.
him: While you were gone, did you have someone getting your mail?
me: Yes, my parents.
him: Hmm... I see that you have no record so I'm just going to give you a stern warning on the conditions that you go directly to the DMV to get this taken care of.
me: Okay, I will. I'm so sorry. Thanks so much. Have a nice day. [Thinking, "Yeah, right. Like I have time to go to the DMV. Little does he know my oil hasn't been changed for 1,000 miles over the suggested mileage."]
him: [walks away, expressionless]
Morale of the story: Be honest, play dumb (or in my case, be dumb), admit your wrong-doing, and you'll drive away with a clean record. This seems to be the pattern I've experienced through my many run-ins with the law. That's right... I'm dangerous like that. Look out world, this girl drives with an expired license... unregistered. [Insert mental image of Lloyd Christmas at the phone booth in Aspen giving one deep "she's unlisted" breath.]
4 comments:
Were you wearing red?
I did'nt know you had a middle name?
I recently was pulled over going twenty-five miles over the posted limit. When the cop asked me if I knew why he had pulled me over, I replied with, "Um, ya, it was because I was going really fast."
I batted my eyes and smiled a smile I haven't pulled out in years.
I didn't get a ticket.
Ironically I was having a conversation with my brother about interactions with cops right before I read your blog. His story was very different than yours.
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