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Quoth ADoyle90815
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(yes, I know you meant rapelling)My brother used to have a best friend that was a big black guy. My brother is a very blond white guy. There are a lot of places in sou Cali where that combo driving anywhere get pulled over due to profiling and when they were out together, they'd get pulled over all the time.
My mother was once pulled over a couple of blocks from our house because the cop didn't recognize her car. He claimed he pulled her over because one of her tires (one that he never was in a position to even see) looked bald. He was a lousy liar. He cited her for a crack in the windshield because he wanted to prove he had a reason to pull her over. (she wasn't gracious about being stopped for a bullshit reason)
I've been pulled over a few times by bored cops wondering what the hell I was doing driving around at 3 in the morning. Most of the time I was getting home from a Renaissance Faire.
One memorable time, I was driving a friend home from a concert that a group of us had attended. The friend in question was a long-time friend of my family's and was totally bombed. I was elected to drive him back to his place because I was the only person in the group in any condition to do so. I get to the turn lane to make the u-turn to get back to the entrance to the community he lived in when I get pulled over.
I had seen the cop on the side street as I'd approached, and I could tell by the way he was staring that he was going to stop me. The fact that I was in my mom's car and one of the front running lights was out, and one of the taillights was also out gave him plenty of reason to initiate the stop.
I feel sorry for the guy, however, as he got such a contact buzz (it's the only way to explain how erratic his behavior was) that he couldn't think straight.
First, he chastised me for turning left and stopping in a parking lot as opposed to pulling to the right. Nevermind that I was already moving into the left turn lane when he flashed his lights to pull me over. He had to think about that for a moment before moving on.
He got my license and proof of insurance and went back to his car to radio it in and write up the fix-it ticket. He came back with everything in hand and rambled a bit while trying to explain what he was doing and finally remembered to actually hand it to me.
He then told me to drive carefully (they seem to always say this) and wandered back to his car and sat there for several minutes. I have no idea what he was doing but I couldn't move until he did, as he'd parked me in. I think the whole stop, which should have taken about 5 minutes lasted for nearly 20.
When I got home, I bitched at my mom for not fixing her front light. Unfortunately, the back one was a problem with the way the car was put together and would require the whole mounting to be reworked, and it was cheaper to just keep replacing the bulbs when they melted from being in contact with the lens cover than to get it fixed.
The most intriguing time was when I had dropped a friend off at his place in Los Alamitos (the city wants to act like it's more upscale than reality lets it be) and we were just heading back to the freeway, when I spotted a cop a block back. My right-turn signal was out, and I knew I was about to be pulled over. Which I was.
So, there I am, in my full middles garb, with my hoop skirts folded up so I could drive, my then-husband in his kilt and fake blood all over his face and shirt, and another friend I was carting home in his kilt, no shirt, covered in fake blood and blue paint. It had been a good faire (and our guild was one of the live steal groups that was always in the battle pageant and did improv gigs, so we got messy).
The cops are looking for any reason to get a better look at us when they spot the dagger lying on the floor of the passenger side. Yes, my ex was (and still is, I think) an idiot about some things. So, a weapon in the passenger compartment, and they have their excuse to check us out further.
I didn't care, however, as I was in a good mood and I wasn't too tired, so we all piled out of the car, the cops asked us all a bunch of questions separately to see if our stories matched, and then they had us pop the trunk. I could have said no, but didn't feel like hassling over it, and I knew there was nothing in there they could do anything about. They looked at a couple of things, remarking at the irridescent stuffed lizard and then they got to the first sword. One cop holds it up and pulls it out and asks his partner if that's about 6 inches. Then a little more and says that's 8 inches. Before they go any further, the ex lets them know it's a 48" broadsword.
They could have cited me for the bad tail light and the dagger, but I think since we were such good sports and quite obviously not up to anything, they just told me to get it fixed and sent us on our way.
^-.-^
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