The Bored Police Man
Lauren and I were minding our own business and driving along a quiet east Texas road on our way back to Lauren’s house after visiting a friend. I glanced into my rearview mirror and in utter shock saw flashing lights. “Lauren, look—is that for…me? No, it couldn’t be. But what else could it be? There’s no one else around! What on earth?...”
I pulled over, and, to my horror, so did the flashing lights. I turned to Lauren. “what can he be pulling me over for?” Lauren didn’t offer much reassurance, and only gazed back at me with what I guessed was as puzzled an expression as mine. This was only the second time I’d been pulled over in my entire driving career (all of 3 ½ years). Traumatizing. I sat in nervous anticipation for the cop to come to my window.
A cop with a name badge that said P. Thompson sauntered up to my window and I rolled it down as he addressed me, “do you know why you were pulled over?” I thought “good grief, of course I don’t know why I was pulled over! Why else would I have this bewildered expression on my face?” but being the good ATI girl that I am I politely said “no, I don’t.”
Apparently I had only partially stopped at a four-way stop. Who comes to a complete stop at a four-way stop when it’s 10pm on a country road and there are no cars in sight? What is this world coming to?
P. Thompson asked for my driver’s license and looked at it. “Are you from around here?” um, my license plates are for MN, as are my insurance cards and ID, we’re in the middle of east TX, and you ask if I’m from around here? But of course, again, being the good ATI girl, I merely said “no, sir, I’m not.” He then asks for Lauren’s ID!
Why did he ask for your ID, I asked Lauren after he walked off to check out our little plastic cards. Neither of us could come up with a logical answer, and settled down to wait, which turned out to be a while. What do cops actually do when they take your ID back to their car? If I swore (which I don’t) I would swear that it took the dude 10 full minutes to return, and of course Lauren and I are sitting in nervous tension the entire time and really, really wishing we were not in this situation.
After forever and eternity, P. Thompson finally came back and handed us our IDs.
“Lauren, who are your parents?”
Lauren, not sure if this was a trick question or something, and having needed a restroom for about an hour by this time, gave him her parents’ names. He asked “Do you recognize me?” Gathering that somehow she was supposed to know him from something [hey, in small town Texas everyone knows or is related to everyone else, right?], but not connecting the dots, she replied in the negative. P. Thompson tried again. “Ya know, the ball park?” The dots still not connecting, but wanting to get home to a bathroom, Lauren said something that gave him the opposite impression.
Apparently satisfied with her reply, P. Thompson waved us on. “Anyways, you ladies have a great night! And remember to come to a complete stop!”
No ticket, no warning, nothing. Baffled, we started to drive off, me blabbing about how insane this all was.
“Paige, he was just bored.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, he was just bored, and found an excuse to pull someone over. And I still can’t figure out how he knows my family.”
Well, at least I have another story to ad the Adventures in my Little Black Car.
Author's Note: I have nothing against bored police men, or police men in general for that matter [no one can blame you for getting bored and lonely and deciding to pull someone over for something little]. If you are reading this, and you are a police man, thank you for all of your hard work, and you are amazing.
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