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Rated: 18+ · Non-fiction · Biographical · #2279285
A traffic stop!
Many of my police stories are either in New Orleans, or going back and forth from there. This one was on our way. We were coming through Little Rock, and there were three of us. Along with me was my wife and an Australian friend of ours, Scarlett. We’d stopped for gas a few miles back, and being the good host, I bought two of those giant cans of genuine Aussie beer. The wife was driving, so we indulged. However, even though Scarlett had been all over her home continent, she had never heard of the beer. This led me to exclaim, “Fosters! Australian for bullshit!”

Shortly after, we saw the red and blue lights as my lead-footed wife was pulled over for speeding. It's certainly nothing I hadn't experienced, so we stashed the brew before the officer came to the window. Then it got kind of weird. Instead of the usual "license and registration" routine, my wife was instructed to follow him to his vehicle, while Scarlett and I were to exit and stand away from our Durango. So there we were, sniffing exhaust by the interstate.

Scarlett was infatuated with the cop, and just could not stop commenting on his looks. Such a cute face! What fine blonde hair! And of course, she found his body very tempting as well. I finally had enough.

"Damn, Scar, just jump in the back of his cruiser with him and get us out of a ticket!"

She looked up at me as if she were so innocent, and in her cute accent said, "You can do that in America?"

"No you can't just do that in America!" I exclaimed, "I suppose you could just do whatever and hope for the best, but if you mentioned it was to drop the ticket it would probably be a felony."

As soon as I said that, a realization hit me like a brick dropped from a blimp. We were on the shoulder of the road for good reason. The state I was in allowed a person on a trip to have a weapon as long as it was in plain view. However, as the police chief I knew had said, a cop on a traffic stop will be much more comfortable if he's informed right away it's in the car. If I'd been completely sober, I would have remembered that pearl of wisdom.

If I had been completely sober, I also would have stayed put instead of hurrying over to the window of the cop car and tapping on the glass. I'm not sure why he was so shocked. I hadn't exactly been acting like anything but an idiot. His face turned red and twisted in a knot as he lowered the window.

"Get back over there where I told you!" He bellowed.

"But officer, I forgot to tell you that my nine millimeter pistol is on the console!"

He hopped out of that car like his ass was on fire, motioned me to walk ahead of him and walked me past the driver side window. I knew he'd already seen it, but he peered in anyway, then turned and gave me a look. The look that told me he thought I was quite the dumbass.

"Sir, may I take possession of that weapon?"

"What?" I stammered, "I guess so, sure."

"Any other weapons in the vehicle?"

"No, sir."

With that, he popped open the door, grabbed the gun, dropped the clip, and racked it open. Then I was instructed to go back and wait with Scarlett … and not leave that spot again. So that's exactly what I did while watching him talk on the radio and writing furiously. It was probably only ten minutes, but it seemed like eons. When he and my wife finally got out of the car, my stomach flipped when I saw how he was carrying my gun. It was held by the trigger guard on the end of a pen.

"Sir, where did you acquire this weapon?"

"Well, it was at a gun show in Missouri." I responded, "Why?"

"Because it was used in a double homicide in North Little Rock." He said, and just let the words hang there.

"What?!" I exclaimed, "I sure didn't shoot anyone!" All I could picture is spending time in a lockup until it was sorted out. Assuming it did get sorted out.

He waited just a moment longer, then said, "Nah, I'm kidding. You're fine to go. Just don't replace the clip until you're back in the car."

"You're messing with me?!" I howled. "You did that and still gave her a ticket? That just ain't right…."

"Yeah, I did. But! I'm going to let you dump out the beers you hid and not cite you for open container."

"Well, okay then. That sounds like a fair deal to me."

"I thought you might see it that way," He replied. "But don't you dare crack another one before you get out of my county."

"Sir, I assure you. I won't have another one until I'm out of your state!"

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