Officer Unfriendly

 When Earl and I were driving back to Los Angeles from St. Louis on our big road trip a couple years ago, I was pulled over by the Highway Patrol for not signaling when I changed lanes. We were leaving a toll booth and there were about 4 or 5 lanes to cross before getting back onto the highway. There were no other cars and I made my way across. I did not see the patrol vehicle until way too late. Until the lights were flashing and the siren blaring.

I nervously pulled over, wondering what I had done wrong. Knowing I had done nothing wrong, but afraid because the cop was white and we were not and we were in Oklahoma with California license plates. Anything could happen.

When Officer Unfriendly looked in at us he asked for our paperwork, which we provided and he then asked me to get out of the car. I was really scared then. He asked me to get into his vehicle as he checked my license and registration.

Once inside the Highway Patrol SUV, I couldn't help looking around at all of the official police gear. The computer, the rifle, the mesh guard between the front and the back seat and then the big ass ferocious German Shepard police dog in the back section! OMG! I had to get myself together quick, to breathe normally, to look innocent. I maintained eye contact with the officer at all times, making sure he knew I was telling the truth.


He asked the usual questions. Well I guess they were the usual questions. Name, address, where were we going, where were we coming from. I told him the whole untold story of our trip to see my ailing mother for Mother's Day. Then he asked the make and model of the car. Oh shit! I hadn't a clue. I hoped he didn't think I was lying when I said I didn't know. I told him my husband knows that kind of thing. I just put in gas and drive.

He gave me the side eye and got out to go talk it over with Earl. He wasn't understanding why an able bodied man was not driving and letting a woman drive. He questioned Earl about the cuff he wears on his elbow for nerve damage. What could be so wrong that he wasn't driving? It was simply my turn to drive, but we didn't get to explain that to the officer.

Then he asked Earl why I didn't know the make and model of the car. Earl gave him a patented "Earl look" and asked, "Are you married?" The officer said yes. They looked at each other and Earl shrugged. I would normally be offended by this exchange, that I heard about later, but I just wanted to get the hell out of that police SUV with the big ass ferocious police dog staring me down and smelling my fear. He could have called me boo boo the fool and I'd be perfectly fine with that!

Officer Unfriendly returned to the SUV and relayed the conversation with Earl and told me this time he would let me off with a warning. I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought we might be hauled off to jail in some backwater police station, never to be heard from again. Or that we'd have to pay a huge cash bribe. What I got was a good talking to about signaling when changing lanes. Believe me, I was paying attention as if my life depended on it. In some circumstances it would have.

He was not impressed when I told him about the habits of Los Angelenos on the freeways here, where signaling before changing lanes is a sign of weakness. He just wanted me to know that he had his eyes on me and I'd better straighten up and fly right. I'd better fucking adhere to the rules of the road. My words, not his.

And you can bet your bottom dollar, I adhere to the fucking rules of the road now. I signal when changing lanes, when making turns, whenever, whether I need to or not. I'll no doubt never see Officer Unfriendly again, but I do not want another encounter with any of his brethren.