
I was driving down DeSoto yesterday at about noon. My new black Honda was stopped at a red light when I noticed him. It was a California Highway Patrol and he was driving right next to me. He got behind me and followed for a few moments before he flipped his lights on.
Damn.
I'm not sure what I did to warrant this traffic stop, but I pulled off to the side and rolled my windows down. He walked up to my window and told me to put my hands on the steering wheel. "Why don't you have your license plates on?"
"It's a new car, sir."
"It doesn't look very new," he replied mockingly. My car was admittedly filthy, I explained that it had just been to the snow for a week and I hadn't washed it yet. He asked for my license, registration, and proof of insurance which I handed over to him.
"And your front windows are tinted. That's illegal." He looked at my license, and then me, and then my license, and then told me to take off my beanie. I don't know if it was my blacked-out, dirty car or the Derek Vineyard look I was sporting, but he then asked, "Have you been drinking?"
I looked at the in-dash clock. It was not even one in the afternoon. Now I enjoy a dark stout like any other Englishman, but he couldn't have possibly thought that I was drunk. I answered the asinine question with a little less patience than I had exhibited previously, but I remained polite.
"Any drugs or weapons in the car? Any marijuana?" Okay. This was getting ridiculous. "No sir, I do not." I answered shortly.
"I'm going to find it when I pull you out and search you."
"And why are you going to pull me out of my car and search me? You haven't even told me why you pulled me over."
"Because your car smells like marijuana." I laughed at him. "Sure it does, officer."
"Step out of the car, sir." I got out, and he patted me down. "You aren't under arrest, or anything, I'm just searching you."
"Fine," I said, annoyed. He told me to go stand on the curb and wait while he pillaged my vehicle.
I pulled out my iPhone and started to make a call when he stuck his head out of my car and told me to, "Put that away."
"Why?" I asked, rather irritated by this peace officer telling me my car looked bad, acting as if he just interrupted me trafficking humans, and now telling me to put my white iPhone 3G away.
"Because I said so." he said in true cop fashion.
"Am I under arrest?"
"No you are not."
"Then why can't I use my phone?"
"Because I said so."
"Well, I'm going to use my phone until you can tell me why I can't stand here on the sidewalk and use my cellular device." He stood up and started to walk around towards the rear of the car. Realizing that I might have crossed the line a bit, being hungry and a little cranky, I put it in my pocket. He stopped.
"Look, I'm not a punk or anything. I know what my rights are, and if I am not under arrest or even in handcuffs you can't tell me not to use my phone."
That comment enraged him.
"Okay Mr. lawman. California vehicle code 2000, it's called 'lawful order.' Don't use your phone."
If the flatfoot wasn't being such a fascist, I would have busted out myLie Detector Advanced and tested the truthfulness of this clam.
"Do you mind if I look that up on my iPhone?" I asked, clearly asking for it.
"Yes, I mind."
"How do I know if you are telling the truth?" He ignored that, and continued to pillage my car. I sat down on the curb and began iFishing.
After bagging a couple of Walleye, I looked up and saw him standing over me and looking down at my blatant disobedience. His facial expression didn't quite match what I thought it should, and I was right. He clearly wanted to give me a hard time, but said remorsefully, "I have to go. We have a high speed chase." The heavens opened, harps started playing, my grin reached from ear to ear. "Put your plates on. You are going to get pulled over." He said as he jogged to his vehicle. I stood in awe as I watched him peel out and speed off.
A few hours later I heard a news report about a high speed chase on the 10 freeway, in which the driver managed to successfully elude the CHP.
.