don't shoot

Here's something you might not know about me. I like being a little kindergarten tattletale on occasion. And so, on my way home from my inordinately late and long sentencing law class this evening, I noticed the car in front of me weaving all over the place, turning a right turn signal and a left turn signal in rapid succession and then not turning anywhere, nearly cutting in front of a tractor trailer and causing imminent death and peril for everyone. And good lord, he just generally cannot keep junk in the lines. So, I pick up my handy little phone and I call the po-pos. Because shit man, I would have done a traffic stop on him in a skinny minute. No sense wasting perfectly good traffic stop opportunities. Stopportunities, if you will.

Well there is absolutely nothing the police in my little town love like taking a drunkface in, so what I think is going to be an easy little recitation of a license plate number turns into Giant Crazypantsfest 2010, in which the operator has me giving her a play by play of where I am. "Okay, tell me as soon as the light turns green. Where are you now? What about now? How far have you gone?" So then she really blows me away with, "Just pull in behind the officer and stay in your car when he does the traffic stop."

First of all, I did not sign up for some bad episode of Walker, Texas Ranger. Can't I just give you my phone number and you call me if you need me to back you up on that reasonable suspicion? But fine, whatever, I started this mess, so I pull in behind the traffic stop in which FOUR POLICE CARS are involved. Jesus guys, I didn't say he was Osama bin Laden, I said I thought he was effed up a little. Not the same.

So, I sit there waiting on Officer Skippy to come over and set me free, amongst the police cars which seem to be multiplying by the second. He comes over to the car, says he "needs to get my information." And he needs my license for this. Okay, sure, check me for warrants, I know that's what you're doing. Whatevs. I'm clean, yo. Well, just to be nice, I decide I am going to comply with all laws, and I tell Officer Skippy, "Just so you know, I have a concealed weapon permit and I do have a gun in the car."

Well OH MY GOD, call the SWAT team, because the girl with the cupcake taker in the passenger seat at 9:30 on a Wednesday night clearly dreamed up this whole plan to pop a cap in somebody. Also, this whole time, I am thinking that Officer Skippy looks like one of those Woolly Willie toys, because he is entirely bald but has eyebrows the size of caterpillars. This makes it hard to take it seriously when he starts backing away, shining the light in my face and clutching at his gun.

At this point, Officer Skippy has a look of panic on his face. Seriously, am I that terrifying? This is great. And he's all "Where exactly is the gun?" whilst he looks panicked and shines his flashlight around the car. So I inform him of The Ominous Gun's whereabouts. Then I realize that I am probably going to give him a coronary because my wallet (and thus my license) is in my giant law school bag behind my seat. It's seriously the biggest tote bag Lands' End makes, and I know that a) reaching behind the seat and b) fumbling in my giant lawyer bag are collectively going to send Skippy into such a fit that he just shoots me.

So this whole time, I am trying to use my best soothing voice, kind of like what your dentist does when he's explaining what she's going to do, and you both know it's going to suck, and that this whole sitch is real awkward. "Okay, nowwwww I'm going to reach behind the seat. Nowwwww I'm going to look in here for my license. Could you pleaseeee shine your flashlight in the bag so I can see? [and also so you can see there is nothing with which I can shoot you]" So finally, I give Skippy the license, all the while he has one hand on his gun and one on his flashlight, looking all poised to shoot me at the first move.

AFTER ALL THAT, another cop comes back and goes "Eh, I don't smell it on him, I don't think that's enough to get him out of the car." WHAT? Sure, maybe he isn't drunk but jeez guys, you have a witness who just told you a 10 minute story about this dude's shenanigans on the highway. You have at least enough to get him out of the car.

Well, finally about the twelfth police car shows up, pulls alongside me and I realize it's an old family friend of ours, who, thank God, recognizes me. So at this showing of trust, Skippy at least backs off from the car and seems to be breathing normally again, though boy howdy, that hand is still planted firmly on that gun. At this point I'm thinking, oh goodness it is 10pm, I am starving, and JUST SHOOT ME ALREADY.

The moral of the story is, I a) tried to be a good, concerned citizen (okay so I also like it if someone gets busted) and b) I tried to be a good little concealed weapon owner and follow all of the gosh darn rules and regulations by telling Officer Skippy about it and c) I am treated as if I might entirely go cray cray on anyone at any moment and d) no potential drunkfaces even get pulled OUT OF THE CAR. BAHHH.

Also I am too tired to make wine slushies, so I have no report for you all on how that went. But, perhaps tomorrow since I have no class, I will have loads of time to sit around, watch SVU, and make/drink wine slushies. Sounds like a plan to me.