Speedy Adzhemyan
About 5 hours ago I was cited by the California Highway Patrol for going 90 on I-5. During the rest of the sulky (and slower) drive, I wondered why law school doesn't teach us useful stuff like how to beat a speeding ticket. At least one of my classmates is a former Chipie. There's some consolation in that.
But I'm more concerned about psychoanalyzing the whole "getting a ticket for the first time" thing.
I'd been pulled over before. (UCPD pulled me over at UCLA when myself and four others were heading to Pink's. Two had beanies on and one had a fro, so we didn't look like the typical abercrombie wearing college guys on frat row that UCPD is used to, so they thought they'd take a look inside. Once they saw the crossword puzzle, and the radio dial tuned to the jazz station, they told me that my license plate light was out and let me be on my merry way). But this was different. How the hell did he come up behind me? I did not see him until his red and blue lights came on. I mean no headlights in the mirror until that instant...how do they do it? Well at that instant there's just a cold sweat of fear going through the speeder. You know why he's pulling you over, you're trying desparately to turn on your blinker, you watch him in the rear view to make sure he is in fact pulling you over, and you're steering the car so as not to fly into the cows at Harris Ranch. Your lips might also utter a particular word that begins with the letter F.
Then his bright shining light comes on. Great, now I can't reach for the Glock to bust a cap. More accurately, this might be the only time that a driver puts his hands on the 10 and 2 or 9 and 3...whatever the most up-to-date position may be. Why? Oh yeah, he has a gun and they seem to be a bit trigger happy. Shit is my seat belt on? Oh, yes, it is. Check plus. Ok wait for him to roll up to the driver side.
*TAP TAP TAP* on the passenger window. Naturally I'm thinking, "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT THE EFFF IS THAT?" Oh, we're on a highway with speeding cars...some more than others apparently, and so it's dangerous to come up from that side. Ok, do I roll down the window, or unlock the door? Umm unlock the door. Flashlight shines on the ignition...how original. Then comes the STATEMENT. That's right, statement, not question. "You passed me about 10 miles back at 105. I had to go 140 and weave through traffic to catch up to you. And when I caught up to you, you were going 98. Why the rush?" Me thinking, "SHIT. He's pissed. He's not even interested in playing around. Sigh. Just say no reason and move on. " I say, "No reason." License, registration, and proof of insurance. Insu-what? Kidding. I use AAA...highly recommend it to anyone.
The weirdest part is when he's running a check on the car and writing the ticket. That's not the reason why it's weird. It's weird because it's around this time that all the cars I've been zooming past and cutting off, start to drive by me. That's right, now I'm on the shoulder, with a CHP car shining it's birght lights at me and writing a ticket. Something about he who laughs last goes through my mind. So I laugh. Then you sign that damn thing, afterwhich comes the best part. "Now as you're merging, pick up speed on the shoulder." In a moment of Beavis and Buttheadesque weakness, I'm thinking, "Huh, he said speed." He kindly turns off his lights. Great, now I won't blindly cut off a Mack truck. I speed up, and go on my merry way...slowly...very very slowly...all the while wondering, how the hell did he come up behind me?
UPDATE -- Upon closer examination of the citation, I have now found further proof that the construct of race is complete BS. In the box for race the officer wrote, "O"(ther). He had my fricken license...it says white. For an ethnic group that comes from the region that gave rise to the term Caucasian, it's a bit frustrating that I'm now "Other." I don't want to be White...I don't care if he mistakenly thought I was Latino. I do care when he looks at me, then my DL, and concludes, nah, that guy can't be white. This in the County of Fresno, home of William Saroyan and Jerry Tarkanian.
I wonder how he got behind me though.
But I'm more concerned about psychoanalyzing the whole "getting a ticket for the first time" thing.
I'd been pulled over before. (UCPD pulled me over at UCLA when myself and four others were heading to Pink's. Two had beanies on and one had a fro, so we didn't look like the typical abercrombie wearing college guys on frat row that UCPD is used to, so they thought they'd take a look inside. Once they saw the crossword puzzle, and the radio dial tuned to the jazz station, they told me that my license plate light was out and let me be on my merry way). But this was different. How the hell did he come up behind me? I did not see him until his red and blue lights came on. I mean no headlights in the mirror until that instant...how do they do it? Well at that instant there's just a cold sweat of fear going through the speeder. You know why he's pulling you over, you're trying desparately to turn on your blinker, you watch him in the rear view to make sure he is in fact pulling you over, and you're steering the car so as not to fly into the cows at Harris Ranch. Your lips might also utter a particular word that begins with the letter F.
Then his bright shining light comes on. Great, now I can't reach for the Glock to bust a cap. More accurately, this might be the only time that a driver puts his hands on the 10 and 2 or 9 and 3...whatever the most up-to-date position may be. Why? Oh yeah, he has a gun and they seem to be a bit trigger happy. Shit is my seat belt on? Oh, yes, it is. Check plus. Ok wait for him to roll up to the driver side.
*TAP TAP TAP* on the passenger window. Naturally I'm thinking, "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT THE EFFF IS THAT?" Oh, we're on a highway with speeding cars...some more than others apparently, and so it's dangerous to come up from that side. Ok, do I roll down the window, or unlock the door? Umm unlock the door. Flashlight shines on the ignition...how original. Then comes the STATEMENT. That's right, statement, not question. "You passed me about 10 miles back at 105. I had to go 140 and weave through traffic to catch up to you. And when I caught up to you, you were going 98. Why the rush?" Me thinking, "SHIT. He's pissed. He's not even interested in playing around. Sigh. Just say no reason and move on. " I say, "No reason." License, registration, and proof of insurance. Insu-what? Kidding. I use AAA...highly recommend it to anyone.
The weirdest part is when he's running a check on the car and writing the ticket. That's not the reason why it's weird. It's weird because it's around this time that all the cars I've been zooming past and cutting off, start to drive by me. That's right, now I'm on the shoulder, with a CHP car shining it's birght lights at me and writing a ticket. Something about he who laughs last goes through my mind. So I laugh. Then you sign that damn thing, afterwhich comes the best part. "Now as you're merging, pick up speed on the shoulder." In a moment of Beavis and Buttheadesque weakness, I'm thinking, "Huh, he said speed." He kindly turns off his lights. Great, now I won't blindly cut off a Mack truck. I speed up, and go on my merry way...slowly...very very slowly...all the while wondering, how the hell did he come up behind me?
UPDATE -- Upon closer examination of the citation, I have now found further proof that the construct of race is complete BS. In the box for race the officer wrote, "O"(ther). He had my fricken license...it says white. For an ethnic group that comes from the region that gave rise to the term Caucasian, it's a bit frustrating that I'm now "Other." I don't want to be White...I don't care if he mistakenly thought I was Latino. I do care when he looks at me, then my DL, and concludes, nah, that guy can't be white. This in the County of Fresno, home of William Saroyan and Jerry Tarkanian.
I wonder how he got behind me though.
posted by Armen Adzhemyan at 10:24 PM
1 Comments:
I'm just going to take traffic school and get it over with. Hopefully I'll be on better behavior for 18 mos. FYI: Kanan/Malibu Cyn Road and La Tuna are the biggest speed traps...and both CHP and Sheriff's Dept hang around there.
As for the race thing, the irony is that I know of at least US v. Cartozian where Armenians were found to be white for naturalization purposes. The box is just a blank that the officer fills out with a letter. I should go on a shopping spree at GAP or something to totally assimilate with "Caucasians." Oh and I don't look like Tark but I did meet him at a UCLA-Fresno State football game and said hello. Nice guy...if you ignore the shady NCAA stuff.
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