Almost all of my friends are very anti-establishment in terms of our local police departments. I know Jeordie, Chad, and Amy have each had several unpleasant encounters with the members of authority, and each time they feel as though their civil rights were violated. On the other end of the spectrum, I have had a few pleasant encounters with the same policemen (or at least their peers) and I have not felt as though my civil rights were ever in doubt. All of which begs the question, how much information is on our driver's license?
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| This is my favorite photo in 30 years. |
On Tuesday, I got a text from Amy because she has to pay a $170 fine for having an expired temporary plate on her car. The MVD had sent her plate at least twice before without it reaching her, so eventually, her grace period ran out. It did not matter that her car was in fact fully registered with the state. For having an outdated plate, she was fined almost $175 (and there is a misdemeanor on her record).
Conversely, since May 1st of last year, I have been pulled over at least three times, often for moving violations and without proof of insurance on hand, and I have not been cited beyond a "work order" to get my front headlight replaced. Tonight, I got pulled over again. I ran a red light. And I had a friendly conversation with a police officer for 15 minutes before I was on my way again with a courtesy reminder.
Amy needed me to let out Jeribear (which is always my pleasure) and then Jeordie needed me to take her to a gig later, which was all the way across town at Catch 22 on 32nd Street by Union Hills. Once I got home from work, I enjoyed a quick beer before I started moving along: first to visit Dog, then to pack Jeordie. Jeordie's gig ran from 8:30 until midnight, and Jeordie bought me dinner there. She offered me another Bud Light, and I said that I'd share one with her but I had already had one today, so I was good (as per my previous blog, you may remember this limitation has more to do with my vanity than my adherance to the law). I offered to split the beer, but she had misinterpreted my statement, thinking that I meant I had a beer there. I just let her think so and I didn't push the issue. I was already feeling good, except for the growing angst of being at Catch 22, which has usually meant a night full of drama or a night that drags on 30-45 minutes past the end of the show.
Jeordie shocked me tonight, she ended around midnight and we were on the road 10 minutes later.
As I pulled away, I thanked her for getting me home early. I needed all the rest I can acquire before work tomorrow. I drove home quickly and slightly wrecklessly, first pulling out in front of an oncoming car (which was a lot closer than I realized) and then rolling through a red light to turn right. The second violation got the officer's attention.
Jeordie lives right next to a popular bar in Tempe, so the officer's first question was where I had been tonight. Foolishly, I attempted to answer Catch 22, but doubting he would know where that was, I was trying to give the crossroads, neither of which were readily available to me. He assured me, "if you're coming from Four Peaks, you can say you're coming from Four Peaks." I told him the crossroads finally (seriously, what are "Union Hills" exactly?) and noted that I just dropped off my friend who performed there. He asked what type of music she played, and I answered acoustic folk (quickly, and clearly sober).
He asked how much I had had to drink tonight, and I replied, "nothing since I got off work at 5." "Nothing *since* you got off work? You drank at work?!" I admitted that I worded my sentence poorly, but "if you're giving me permission, then I'll take it!"
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| My current driver's license was issued 4/16/98. |
I handed him my license, registration, and proof of insurance. One by one, because I was fumbling around with them. All the more reason it was necessary for me to answer clearly sober earlier. He looked at the registration and confirmed, "this is current!" Proof of insurance, "this is current!" And my license, "where's your real license?" It was a fair question since I am over 30 and the one I handed him denoted that I am under 21 until 1998.
He gave me back my registration and proof of insurance, then he ran my license. This is where they usually write up a ticket for the whole "running a red light" issue, but he came back and gave me my license with two strict pieces of advise: first, come to a complete stop at every red light (sorry. officer) and second, get a new license "because this one is pathetic!" In my defense, it is the best picture I've ever had taken with long hair. And it does not expire until I turn 50.
Unfortunately, the whole ordeal made me think of my friends who are usually put through the wringer on these traffic stops. I wonder whether my friends instigate more or they get more defensive too quickly, or if there are personal records embedded in our license, so they will know who has overdue library books versus those who have five years of perfect attendance at work. If so, then for the record, I'm the latter! =D
