Tuesday, March 24, 2009

That’s the Ticket: Interlude


I am not happy about this.

A couple of things before getting to part two:

• I forgot one instance of being pulled over, probably because I blocked it from my memory due to all the emotional trauma. (The subconscious is clever like that.)

It was the summer of 2002 and I drove up to Maine with my then girlfriend to meet her parents for the first time. The second night there, my ex and I were driving back from her friend’s house when I was pulled over on a small, backwoods street. The officer made me do a sobriety test, and while I had no trouble touching various parts of my body and walking straight (I’d been doing it for years), I did stumble a bit on the backwards alphabet, though in fairness to me the helpful song doesn’t work in reverse. (My joke of, “I was an English major, I should know this,” probably didn’t help either.)

After that, he took me into the front seat of his patrol car and closed the doors. I sat there for a few minutes staring straight ahead while he wrote something down in a pad.

Officer: “So you’re from New York.”
Me: “Yes.”
Officer: “What are you doing in Maine?”
Me: “Meeting my girlfriend’s parents for the first time.”
Officer: (long, low whistle) “They’re not going to like this story, are they.”
Me: “No.”
Officer: “I remember the first time I met me wife’s parents. They hated me. All her daddy wanted to do was drink beer and watch sports, but I was a hunter. I liked the wilderness. So I married her anyway.”
Me: (internally) If he gives me a five-minute head start, I think I can lose him in the woods. The girl will slow me down; I’ll have to leave her behind, which is a shame because things were going so well.
Officer: “Are you going to speed in Maine anymore?”
Me: “No.”
Officer: “Okay. Go on now.”

He didn’t even give me a ticket, and to this day my ex still believes that I performed a sex act on him in that car. All in all, it was an experience almost as traumatic as . . .

• . . . getting my Florida drivers license yesterday. While the sadness of becoming an official Florida resident became all the more real, surprisingly the actual process at the DMV was painless. They even let you make an appointment in advance, as though you’re seeing a doctor or getting a haircut. And while I was being helped by The Standard Older Gentleman Who Has Trouble Working The New Technology (he typed with his middle finger, it was adorable), the entertainment was provided by The Standard Older Gentleman Who Is Actually a Douche being helped at the counter next to me. He was carrying a briefcase and wearing a red polo shirt tucked into khaki pants with a matching red cardigan draped over his shoulders presumably in case he got cold, or a tennis match broke out.

Woman: “May I help you?”
Guy: (plops briefcase down on counter) “John C. Smith! I have an appointment!”
Woman: “What can I d-”
Guy: “I’m a movie producer from Los Angeles! I recently moved to Fisher Island. We’re filming a movie here in Mia-“
Woman: “Are you renewing a license?”
Guy: “No, I live on Fisher Island and need to drive to the movie set to che-”
Woman: “So you need a new license?
Guy: “Yes.”

Here it’s important to note that Fisher Island has the highest-income per capita in America, and can be reached only by private ferry or helicopter. It’s also important to note that of course this guy’s name isn’t John C. Smith, meaning he used an alias for an appointment AT THE DMV.

The douchery went on for a solid fifteen minutes as he made a big scene out of not having all the documents he needed to obtain a license, though this didn’t stop him from pulling cards out of his wallet saying, “Can I use my bank card from Fisher Island? Or my American Express? Or my access card to the club at Fisher Island?”

Your fucking access card to the club?! What are you backing it up with, your membership certificate from The Cabbage Patch Kid adoption agency?

Needless to say, I hated this guy. I hated him so much that I came home and immediately tried to find him online. I searched through all the movies currently being filmed in Miami. There’s only three: Immigration Tango, The Bait, and D4.

Immigration Tango doesn’t even have an IMDb page and The Bait is produced by a guy named Dariusz Zawiślak – clearly not out d-bag. Then there’s D4, which I can’t find out much about except that it doesn’t stand for The Mighty Ducks 4 (sadly). If anyone has an IMDb Pro account, let me know so I can stalk this guy further. Everyone needs a mission in life, and now that Obama seems to have America under control mine is to find out this guy’s real identity and sully his good name with Photoshop, or perhaps a forged fan letter to Miley Cyrus.

In the meantime, the woman helping him at the DMV got started with a burn of her own.

Guy: “Fine, I’ll make another appointment and come back next Wednesday.”
Woman: “I’ll remember you.”

Touché, douché!

11 Comments:

Blogger Meg said...

I'm looking at your profile picture and your drivers license picture next to each other and have just one question. Did the DMV put the terrorist filter on the camera lens? Seriously.

March 24, 2009 at 8:21:00 PM EDT  
Blogger B said...

Ah! Touché Douché! I love it.

March 25, 2009 at 10:16:00 AM EDT  
Blogger Prosy said...

EVERYTIME I get pulled over I get accused of being drunk. Even dead sober, I can't recite the alphabet backwards. Or walk in a straight line actually. Plus, when I get nervous I laugh a lot. It's hard to convince the cop you're sober when you say, "(giggle giggle) honest officer, (chuckle) I haven't (laugh) been drinking (guffaw)."

March 25, 2009 at 11:53:00 AM EDT  
Blogger James said...

Sell out. You are no longer a new yorker. Do you understand that? Do you understand what you just did? You are NO LONGER A NEW YORKER! I hope you can just sit and think about what you did.

Love James.

March 25, 2009 at 12:32:00 PM EDT  
Blogger kate said...

I just feel bad that now when you come back to New York for visits you'll have bouncers at the door to bars and clubs looking at your license for an awkward amount of time because they won't know where your birthday is on the card.

March 25, 2009 at 1:33:00 PM EDT  
Blogger Romius T. said...

I could help with the fan letter to cyrus. lol.

March 25, 2009 at 7:45:00 PM EDT  
Blogger Phatchik said...

I once got pulled over for drunk driving at 2pm on a Wednesday with a baby in my backseat. The female officer laughed hysterically when I explained that I was swerving because it's impossibly difficult to sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" with accompanying hand motions whilst driving.

March 26, 2009 at 1:56:00 PM EDT  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Damned you and your cliffhanger ... when do we find out what sexual favor(s) you performed to get out of this one?

March 26, 2009 at 6:30:00 PM EDT  
Blogger Gopapatni said...

My baby robbed me of brain matter which caused me to forget about my license. I got nabbed but I guess I should be grateful. God knows how long it would have taken me to realise my license was expired.

March 29, 2009 at 6:55:00 AM EDT  
Blogger Raven said...

A good bartender (I bet Tom Cruise never did this - best in the world my ass) will remind you when your license is about to expire. The problem with getting older and/or frequenting the same bar everyday is they tend to check your ID less often.

April 1, 2009 at 2:46:00 PM EDT  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Immigration Tango" is listed on IMDB incorrectly at the moment as "It Must Be Love" but I'm pretty sure that guy isn't one of the producers of it.

It wrapped as well earlier this month.

-M

April 24, 2009 at 3:57:00 PM EDT  

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