About a half hour ago, I was sitting on a court off a minor thoroughfare watching for the usual violations. Lo and behold, I see a driver on a cell phone. I stopped him and the exchange went something like this.
MC: Do you know why I stopped you?
MC: You were on the cell phone.
Driver: No, I wasn’t.
MC: Really? What were you holding up to your head?
Driver: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t on the cell phone.
MC: Huh. Tell you what. Let’s check your call log and if I was wrong we’ll part ways with my apologies.
MC: Why don’t you hand me your phone.
Driver: I don’t even have my cell phone today.
MC: Hmm. Know what? I find that hard to believe in this day and age.
Driver: I don’t have it.
MC: Okay. So, you don’t mind if I look in your car for it then? If it’s not in there, obviously I must be mistaken.
MC: See, now the longer you wait to respond leads me to believe you’re not being honest with me. I think I’m going to find your cell phone.
Driver: Seriously, I don’t have it.
MC: Okay. I’m done. Give me your license and registration. You’re getting a ticket.
Driver: For what?
MC: Talking on a cell phone.
Driver: I WASN’T!!
MC: I’m not going to debate this with you. You are welcome to go to court. Give me your license.
MC: Where is your cell phone, because I’m going to look for it.
Driver: Right here. (Indicates under his leg).
MC: You straight lied to me! Are you kidding me? Do I look like a moron to you? (Believe it or not, no one has ever answered that question…)
Driver: Do you know who I…
MC: I don’t care who you are or who you know. But, I’m about to find out who you are. Give me your license, please. My patience is quickly diminishing.
Driver: (hands me license).
MC: (for sake of anonymity…) Oh, you’re Babe Ruth.
Driver: I know. (Like that was going to excuse the violation.
MC: And who is Babe Ruth (knowing full well who Babe Ruth is).
Driver: I played for the Yankees back in the day.
MC: Oh. I’m a college football fan. Sorry.
Driver: Can you just give me a break?
MC: Absolutely not. Not after you straight lied to me.
Driver: I wasn’t saying that I wasn’t on my phone.
MC: YES, YOU DID!
Driver: Listen, I can’t get another ticket for this.
MC: Yeah, well, you’re gonna.
Driver: (gets out of car to ‘chat’) Can I…?
MC: Nope. Get back in your car.
MC: Seriously. All you’re doing right now is irritating me further. I’m giving you a legal order to get back in your vehicle.
Driver: (I swear he hung his head and shuffled back dejectedly to his very large SUV).
MC: (back up to the car) Before you launch into whatever you have to say, and I’m more than willing to listen to (expecting excellent blog fodder), I need you to sign this first.
Driver: I just think this is ridiculous
MC: To be honest, had you been honest with me and said, “Here’s my phone, feel free to check my call log”, I probably would’ve given you a warning (internal chuckle). But, I hate, literally hate, being lied to. It irritates the heck (not the word in my head) out of me.
Driver: I think the problem was whether I was listening to my voicemail or whatever.
**What’s that? You fucking moron? Oh, you were checking your voicemail. Check it out…IT’S THE SAME FUCKING THING!!! ARGH!!!**
MC: It’s the same violation. Just like having it on speakerphone and holding it in your hand. Kind of defeats the purpose of “hands free”. The section is very specific. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking or listening. It’s the same violation.
Driver: I was just accessing my voicemail.
MC: Ok, well, it’s not a moving violation…(go on to explain typical court stuff)
Driver: Yeah, but it’s just gonna cause me so much problems.
MC: It’s nobody’s fault but your own. You understand that, right?
Driver: I live right down the road.
MC: There’s no exception in the section that says “unless you’re a mile from your house”. I need you to sign the highlighted portion.
Driver: You can’t give me a break?
**Still? Have you not paid any attention to me at all? No way in hell am I giving you a break, you dipshit liar.
MC: Absolutely not. Not after being lied to. It’s not going to happen. I don’t know what else to tell you. If there was some other language or way in which I could convey to you that is not going to change, I would, but I can’t. So, do me a favor and just sign the ticket.
I love the fact that I carry a digital recorder. It makes transcribing a dream. The above is nearly verbatim of our exchange. Un-fucking-believable.
Babe drives a nice big SUV. Babe lives in a VERY nice area. Babe is retired from Major League Baseball. Babe can’t scrape together cash for a fucking cell phone ticket? Come on…loser. Not to mention he lied to me. Repeatedly.
I said to myself, out loud, I am going right back to blog about this right now. I swear….it’s on the recorder.