My life is awesome. I decided to do this special post because of the proximity of time it happened. The story is still fresh in my mind because it hasn't been 24 hours since the beginning of its happenings. Hope you enjoy the read. Now Antoine doesn't ever play the race card: unless he's talking about cheese. I have a myriad of UPR's, and I've always heralded the officers for doing their job. I always feel like it's a nice gesture to thank the police officer for doing what is very unpopular to do to keep our streets safe and our laws upheld. Sometimes.
This particular story started out like any other, a group of friends meeting up to celebrate a birthday. I go pick up my friend Jessica to take her to the birthday girl's apartment for pre-gaming before we go downtown. Nothing shady, they were still getting ready, eating food (that looked delicious, damn vegetarianism), and taking shots of vodka and tequila. No big deal, everyone is of age. The birthday girl asks who is going to be the DD, and I raise my hand because at this point in my life, I have come to know that my calling in life is to be a professional DD...which proved to come quite in handy.
We all decided that my vehicle would be the vessel that would get us to downtown, which is about 2.5 miles away (2 of those miles are the campus of the school). So the 7 of us pile into my Volvo sedan and start the trek downtown. As the girls were having a blast being packed in like sardines in my car and listening to music, you'll never guess what happened.
I should probably get some theme music for when this happens because at this point, it's OOC.
I go to the nearest parking lot because I do not want to be on the side of the street where there is no shoulder (bike lines ftw). There, the police officer asks for my ID. So I proceed to get out of the car due to my inability to reach anything other than the steering wheel because I was playing Clown Car with the birthday party. The officer tells me to stay in the car. I'm sorry sir, I don't think you understand the concept of being fat. I hand him my id, and you can feel the fear in the car. I am sure that I heard a prayer or two, and probably a hail Mary, coming from the passenger and back seats. As I'm sitting in my car, the only thing I want to do is comfort the party to state that everything would be okay. I had not yet been told why I was pulled over, but I've been trained for situations like these. The police officer returns:
Cop: Mr. Jefferson, could you step out of the car?
(I step out of my car in a sigh of relief and victory after being so close to the steering wheel)
Cop: Mr. Jefferson, the reason why we stopped you is because you have a tail light out. Did you know about that?
Me: Yes sir, it just happened, my dash showed me.
(About 5 more minutes of banter about my tail lights that were out.)
Cop: Mr. Jefferson, I am going to be honest with you, we smelled weed right before we pulled you over.
Me:(OH REALLY!!?!?) Ummm okay...
Cop: Is there anything you want to tell me, tell me now, just make it easier on yourself.
Me: (Sorry sir, I've studied ninja techniques under the great Annette, that boosh won't work on me) No sir, we haven't been smoking nor do I smoke.
Cop: Okay. You can go take a seat on the curb.
This is not the first time I've been pulled over for one reason, and got my car searched for weed (look out for that story). So by this point, I was well prepared for the situation.
The next 20 minutes, the officer takes every passenger out and asks them the same round of questions they ask me. At this point I'm feeling terrible because this is the literal first 30 minutes of the birthday, and our friend is spending them being interrogated by the police who is searching for marijuana. (I mean clearly, that's how one should always start their birthday)
The officer asks me to come back and states that he KNOWS that he smelled marijuana and that if I wasn't going to confess to it, that he needs to check the car. Me trying to increase my bad assitude, ask the police officer if he needed a warrant to search my car. I am fairly certain that there is some kind of rule out there that says he does. He tells me that he in fact does NOT need a warrant to search my car because he was looking for weed and that he can do it for that reason. It became quite unmistakeable that I always need a lawyer with me.
I allow the officer to search my car, and the 7 of us watch the process. The proprietor of the front seat has become restless and begins to ask Jessica questions about what she does. Jess having a 'long hair don't care' attitude, begins to casually tell the party about what she does. I begin to speak with the police officers because I have nothing better to do as well. Eventually, there is this group dialogue being exchanged about a lot of subjects and it was like we're all one big happy family. One officer asks me to open my trunk, so I direct him on how to open it. He opens the trunk, and another officer comments: "Wow, its not everyday that you see a gas can and a tool box in the back of a Volvo" (Sir, if you had any idea how OFTEN I've had to use that gas can, you would most likely revoke my license).
After the search, we're all allowed to get back in the vehicle. I receive a warning for my non functioning tail light, and we go about our business. Back in the car, there is a resounding rejoicing of our victory over the police drill. One person asseverates an overwhelming amount of pride because the officer radioed the rest of the squad to state that they "had a bust and we're going to get them". Nope, sorry, not today. And by sorry, I mean not sorry.
Not that I did anything out of the ordinary, but the party seemed to be impressed and grateful for my performance, and recanted the ordeal throughout the night to friends and strangers they saw downtown. I was known as "The Driver" for the rest of the night (because I wasn't already that? haha). The night was a blast, and we believe the birthday girl really enjoyed herself.
We pick up a person with a car, and for the ride home, were a bit more comfortable having split up. I drop the girls off, and I head home. I change my Facebook status to reflect the shear awesomeness of the night, and go about my business. I ended up leaving the house twice after I got home (it made me feel popular), the second time I left was to keep a friend company while he worked on a pair of wings for his show.
When 9am rolled around, I realized that I did not have my phone with me, so I pull out my laptop to check my email (just in case a student or co-worker needed something). When I get to the page, I am flabbergasted at one of the emails that I saw. The police officer that pulled me over had emailed me! Why? Because "When they ran my license nothing showed up, but later on they realized that I had a warrant out for my arrest." He then gave me his number to call if I had any questions before 7am, otherwise I should just call the jail to arrange turning myself in (No sir, a normal person is sleeping at 5am and isn't looking to voluntarily turn themselves in to the jail). Although I wanted to spend more time with my friend (for moral support), I needed to go home asap and take care of this. A myriad of thoughts went through my brain: Will they let me teach first then I can go to jail? Can I teach my class via Skype from the jail cell? Are the police going to be waiting at my front door when I get home? How did they get my email address?
I get home, and find my phone on the charger (not charging wtf?) with the alarm going off. I turn off the alarm and instantly call Annette. I knew what the warrant was for, and I thought that my mother had taken care of the ticket because she offered to do it a few months ago when she got the letter about it (THANKS MOM!
Once that is done, I text Jessica and the birthday girl, as well as commenting on my status about the addition to the situation. It was just icing on the cake. Here comes the cherry: a friend comments on my status and asks "Antoine, did you get pulled over (describes the parking lot I got pulled over in)?" I respond with a yes, then he states that he and his friends were at the apartment complex that could be seen from the parking lot and wondered 1)why we were being pulled over and 2) how so many people got out of my car. I laugh hysterically, and he produces a PICTURE of the night's UPR:
My friend's caption read: "Antoine being harassed by *** PD. Having a tail light out seems like a valid reason to search his car for weed. The guy doesn't even drink!"
Its also important to mention that a number of statuses were people saying "DWB?". (Sorry general public, I'm not fluent in abbrevs.) I go and Urban Dictionary 'DWB' and find out its meaning, and find it quite appropriate. That is why it is the title of this post.
Maybe my life IS a series of belligerent police run-ins. ~!Antoine!~
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