Admit it the Black Flag songis in your head now.

Turns out that updating in an airport on a Samsung tablet is pretty cumbersome, so your continued patience is appreciated. As we wait with bated breath for my compelling tale of thr biggest asshole cop I have ever encountered, please use the comment section to regale us with your own Worst Cop Stories.

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60 Responses to “POLICE STORY”

  1. Andrew Says:

    @Jude: Just because you say "yes" when someone asks you whether you packed your own luggage, because "yes" is the correct answer, doesn't mean you blindly follow authority. Intelligent people know how to pick their battles.

  2. fernando_g Says:

    I live in the US side, but have worked for 27 years across the border at "maquiladora" plants. I've crossed the borders close to 6000 times, and know that immigration officers -on both sides of the border- have total and absolute power over you.

    Also, in Mexico one can purchase fruits and vegetables which are unavailable or very expensive back home. I therefore go grocery shopping every week, VERY mindful of the US Dept of Agriculture list of prohibited items, which customs agents strictly enforce. One such item is apples, which is quite ludicrous because US apples are far superior to Mexican apples.

    Almost daily, I take a US grown apple to work, to have a snack. It so happens one very busy day I could not eat it, and took it back to the US.

    During inspection, agent notices my apple. I tell him that it was US-purchased and point to the "Washington State" label affixed to it.
    He says, literally: "Indeed, but once you cross the border, the apple loses its identity".

    Mindful of the power he has over me (and the thousand dollar fine), I avoid laughing or smirking. I just apologize, submit the apple for destruction, and lets me go with a reprimand.

  3. anori Says:

    "The apple loses its identity"

    A postmodern immigration officer. Hah! I probably wouldn't have been able to avoid laughing.

  4. democommie Says:

    I had a border control officer near Kamloops, CN. I was driving a shitbox '76 Malibu Wagon, loaded with a lot of camping gear, tools, books, a guitar and various other junk. I'd already been in Canada twice on the long trip I was on–entering and exiting with no notable difficulty. On the day in question, however, I had the misfortune of dealing with a recent immigrant who was wearing the Border officer's uni.

    He grilled me for a while, asking me no less than three or four times if I had contraband, firearms, drugs, secreted money or explosives. I finally told him to toss the car if it would make him feel better. He went inside the building behind us and came out a moment later. He told me I had to talk to the guy in charge.

    I walked in and there was a veteran sergeant standing at the desk. He asked me if I was planning on staying in Canada and whether I had sufficient monies to travel across country to the VT border crossing (I wastn' and I did, in that order). He then said, "You're good to go. That young fella is wee bit too serious.". That young fella, 30 years later, is probably a division commander.

  5. Junkyard Jesse Says:

    I don't have any stories about being tired of any abuse, just ridiculous/comical small town cop tales.

    Important Background: I grew up in a small town. And when I say small town I don't mean a 20,000-person suburb within 50 miles of a major city. 2,500 people on an island (a real island with no highway bridge or tunnel) in Alaska. About as remote as you can get and still be called "small town" and not "village". In this town everything closes by 6 p.m. except for the bars, restaurants and maybe one or two hangouts for teens. So by 9 p.m. there aren't many people out and about and anyone who is, is just looking for a good time, and doesn't have anywhere important to be any time fast.

    The local police force has maybe a half dozen cops. One of them is cool, probably four of them are shady and crooked as fuck, and the one remaining is The Small Town Cop.

    Tale #1: Teenage Friend and Teenage Me are driving around one night with nothing to do and spot a friend walking down the sidewalk as we approach a stop sign. We stop at the sign and roll down the passenger window and start bullshitting. Meanwhile another car approaches from behind and passes us in the oncoming lane. As you might expect in this setting we were the only two cars at this intersection the entire time; there is no oncoming or cross traffic.

    As we proceed through the stop sign Small Town Cop jumps up from between two parked cars across the intersection and starts flashing his flashlight on and off at us. We literally had no idea what this meant so we laughed at him for being stupid and then made three right turns around the block. As we circled around the far side of the block, Small Town Cop leaps out of the alley and into the traffic lane ordering us to halt. The fucking guy ran us down on foot through the alley to intercept us (he must have used his cop sixth sense to know we were joy riding and would be driving in circles).

    He ran us down on foot and threw himself in front of a moving vehicle to write a $50 ticket for blocking traffic.

    Tale #2: Fast forward a few years and I'm now a young adult engaged to the love of my life and we are home visiting Small Town. Being a young young adult I may or may not still do things like go to the open field and sit in a car and smoke dope and then go to the one place open in the middle of the night with snack foods: the outdoor car wash which has vending machines. I left the lady in the car and when to go get some Doritos or something and noticed two 20 oz bottles of Pepsi sitting on the change machine. I figured it reasonable that they were just extras or expired or something and the carwash owner left them out free for the taking, but as I was about to pick one up and crack it open I hear my wife whispering to me.

    "What?" I replied loudly and stupidly like a stoned 20 year old would. She kept trying to get my attention discreetly but I wasn't picking up on it. As I went to approach the car empty-handed, Small Town Cop jumped out from around the corner and blocked my path. "What's going on?" he asked. "Nothing I was just getting some snacks and was kind of curious why those sodas were just sitting there." To which he replied, "Mmmmhmm. I was wondering that myself!"

    I got my Doritos and got back in the car. Lady informs me that the whole time I was there, Small Town Cop was peeking around the corner stealthily watching me make my purchase and, I can only assume, waiting for me to "steal" one of the sodas that he probably put there as a trap to bust stoned kids.

  6. April Says:

    Man, I have so many cop stories – and one TSA one – I could write a blog just about those. Just a couple…

    in 1978 I had a TR-7 car. (The British Wedge sports car.) Absolutely impossible to not speed in that. Got lots of tickets as I traveled across the US, but, back in the day before puters a ticket outside your home state didn't count against you for points. AND you could pay the fine right there to the cops. (Usually 5 bucks or so. Them were the days for sure.) Anyway, two stories about that: I had gone from Illinois to California, getting a ticket in every state. When I returned to Illinois and crossed the border the cop who pulled me over asked if I had ever had a ticket before. My first inclination was to smart-mouth "I've had tickets in better stated than this one…" but I didn't. Second story…was living in Orlando, Fl and got pulled over. Hot day, all windows down, I can hear the cop's police radio…another cop says "Hey, Joe – did you get the green one?" (Yeah, my car was green. Knew I wasn't going to talk myself out of this one…)

    And speaking of which….it didn't hurt to be young, cute and blond. Talked myself out of several. Actually got a date offer from one cop. (Turned him down. I don't date Republicans.)

    When my firstborn was, um, well, first born, my then husband was still in England. I was driving home from an interview where I didn't get the job, so I was naturally upset. I'm driving home and she is in her car seat in the back and she starts that newborn cry – WA WA WA WA. (Either you know how this sounds or you don't.) Since I was breastfeeding immediately the milk started flowing so now my shirt front is all wet. The cop lights flash and that's it….I'm sobbing away. Just too much stress. This poor young cop (and I will confess it's the ONLY time I've ever felt sorry for a cop!) comes to my window. I'm sobbing, the baby is screaming and he says "Um…do you know why I stopped you?" and I said (in between sobs…this story is really better when I do it in person) "Yes…I know…I was speeding…I…am…just…trying…to…get…home…so…I…can…feed…her….so…she…will….SHUT…UP!" Poor guy. No ticket.

    My other favorite no ticket story occurred when I was living in England doing my graduate work. Being a poor student my car was not that great. I was sitting at a light that turned green but my car wouldn't start. I kept trying and trying and when it finally started the light had turned red but, fuck that, I went anyway. Unbeknownst to me, there had been a cop car behind me all the while. After I ran the light he put on his and pulled me over. He came up to the window and said "Do you always run red lights?" and I said "Oh, no Sir. Only when there is a cop car RIGHT BEHIND ME!" He laughed. No ticket.

    Which leads me to my TSA story. In 1985 I went home to the US from Britain. I got to the customs guy and he asked me what I was doing in the UK. I told him I was studying. He then asked what my course of study was and I told him it was reproduction. (My research was concerned with "why so many sperm" [because men won't ask for directions! Sorry – that joke still cracks me up!] So then he asks if I have any samples. Now, NOW I understand that it's a standard question, but at the time I was really confused. Samples? Samples of what? Sex? So I do my best Mae West impression and say "I don't know…will it help me get through customs faster?" And for the briefest second the way he looks at me makes me think I am SO fucking going to jail! But then he realizes that I thought he was joking, and I'm saying (frantically) "No. No samples."

    Don't get me started on cop "testilying".

  7. Tallmarc Says:

    Thanks April, I guffawed.

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