Five-Oh

As I've noted in past postings, I find myself in almost constant transport from my home and Beaver County, home of the Cellar Dwellers. As I also have mentioned, traveling can lead to all sorts of adventures. Such was the case last Saturday.

I had left the triumphant improv show at the Copper dog - 4 paying customers, woohoo. It was fairly late, almost 12:30 am as I piloted my '93 Lumina - or 'The Silver Bullet' as I like to call it - through Rochester. I was almost out of Rochester when I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the one sight sure to invoke terror in the mind of all motorist. I was being chased by Dan Akroyd. Just checking to see if you're paying attention. What my mirror really revealed was the flashing lights of a police officer.

Is there any more nerve racking event than being pulled over by the cops? Well, yes I guess there is. Trench warfare comes to mind. Still, getting pulled over always manages to be a good sucker punch experience. One minute you're driving along quite happily, feeling free. The next minute some guy with a mustache - they always have mustaches - is shining a flashlight in your face.

I tried to play it cool. I made a concerted effort to have all my paper work ready for the officer which was a fools errand. My glove box explodes like a party favor when opened. Papers fly everywhere. Every piece of paper work I have ever received for my car is in there. I have registrations dating back to the mid 70's. I don't know what car they belong to, but they're there. I was able to find my current registration. It was rolled in a ball under an ancient half full bag of Skittles.

I greeted the officer kindly, "Hello officer. How are you tonight. Beautiful night for a drive isn't it." I practically had to muzzle myself before I became just a little too friendly. I was half a step from saying: "Say officer, has anyone ever told you your an attractive man? You must work out." Remember, when talking to the police there is a fine line between polite and catching-a-beat-down-with-a-flashlight polite.

"You know I clocked going 50 back there," The officer said. "You were also a little erratic. You went over the double yellow and the white lines."

Crap, I thought to myself, looks like its alphabet backward time for James. But I'm sober. At least I think I'm sober. I only had 1-1.5 beers at Copper Dog. That was a couple hours ago. I couldn't be drunk. But what if they were super beers? What the hell's a super beer?

I remained quiet and tried my best too look sober, which I was. I offered him my license and registration. Always be helpful to the police when they pull you over. If you have food in the car offer it to them. "Oh," the officer said, "I also need your insurance card."

(flashback a couple of days:
my mother: James, your insurance card came in the mail.
me: Just leave it there. I'll get it.)

I didn't have my insurance card, the fine for - the officer tells me - is a 6 month suspension of your driver's license. I panic. I tell the officer I have it. I show him the most recent card freshly expired. He seems to understand. I can't tell. He's got a flashlight in my face.

"Where are you coming from?"

"The Copper Dog." I think it best not to lie. I was at a bar.

"Doing a little drinking were you?"

"Just one or two a couple hours ago. I was doing a show. I'm an actor."

"What kind of show?"

"Improv comedy. I'm a member of the Cellar Dwellers. Check out our website www.thecellardwellers.com" Did I just plug the Cellar Dwellers? Was that a good idea? The officer seemed to accept it. It was the truth.

Then, the officer went back to his cruiser.

Now, I have no idea what cops do when they take your paper work back into their car, but I have a sneaking suspicion it's nothing. They're just making you sweat. They're probably back there smoking a cigarette or brewing some coffee or shaving or playing the harmonica or doing any number of other inane pursuits while your left pondering your fate. I was sweating bullets. I needed my license. I can't afford to pay for a ticket. The ticket could be worth more than I am right now. I'd have to sell plasma just to make ends meet.

Eventually, the officer returns and a miracle happens. I swear it was a miracle. Little things like this confirm my belief in a loving God. The officer uttered those sweet, sweet little words: "I'm going to let you off with a warning." Praise God, hallelujah. I feel like singing. I feel like dancing. I want to hug the officer. I don't. It probably wouldn't have been the wisest of choices. I restrain myself. I do thank the officer and wish him a pleasant night. And then, just like that, I am free. I drive away with joy in my heart and less lead in my foot.

Shalom