Sunday, November 22, 2009

Christian fascism in the New York State Police


Here's the "need to know" backstory: the license plate on my car reads NO - RLGN. Everywhere I look in this town is some hyper-Christian with an obnoxious bumper sticker reading "Got Jesus?" or, "Homosexuality is sin! Read the bible" or, "Aren't you glad your mom was pro-life? Read the bible" or, " Elect Jesus president" or my personal favorite, and the most appropriate for the events of this evening, the cross over an American flag with the words "One nation under GOD." Funny how these religious sentiments are so often laced with politics. Me personally, I still think we need separation of church & state, and contrary to popular belief, we don't live in a Christian theocracy, at least not yet. My license plate is my way of responding to all of the confronational bible thumpers which I come across almost daily here in Hudson. I've had bumper stickers before, but evidently the folks in this town don't believe in free speech either, because the bumper stickers that expressed my irreligious views were taken off of my car under cover of night, presumably by someone who goes to church on Sunday mornings while I'm sleeping in. Ironic that the Christian who swiped my bumper stickers was breaking his own GOD's commandment against stealing, no? Try stealing both of my license plates, fuckwad.

Now.

I was out driving this evening on Fairview Avenue in the lovely Town of Greenport, New York, which neighbors Hudson "The Friendly City", where I live. I noticed a shit ton of stateys on the streets as I made my way up the road. There are about 7,500 people in this area, give or take, so when I'm about halfway to a friend's house which is only about five miles from mine, and I've already seen three State Troopers, that's something.

I was thinking to myself, "Damn. Lotta stateys on the streets tonight" when I saw the lights in my rearview. Now I'm thinking, "What the fuck?"

So I pull over, half expecting the cop to speed by me in pursuit of someone who is actually breaking the law.

Nope.

Here's how the exchange between me and Officer Dickhead went:

"License, registration, and proof of insurance."

I hand over the paperwork.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Actually, no, sir, I don't."

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Yeah, about 35 miles per hour."

"Speed limit's 30."

"I beg your pardon, sir, and I'm not trying to be argumentative here, but the speed limit here is 40."

"IIII'm pretty sure it's 30."

"Um, no, actually, sir, the speed limit in the City of Hudson is 30, but in the Town of Greenport it's 40. It changes from 30 to 40 about a mile or so back that way."

"IIII'm not so sure about that..."

"Well, sir, and again, I'm not trying to be argumentative, but there's a speed limit sign right there. If you'll just take a look at it, you'll see that the speed limit here is 40 miles per hour."

He goes and looks at the sign, which is positioned about to the middle of my car as it's parked, and as it happens, is literally right in front of his police cruiser. When he comes back, he's got his flashlight out. He points the light in my eyes.

"Have you been drinking tonight?"

"No."

"You been smokin' any weed?"

"No."

"Could you step out of the car please, sir?"

"Here we go..." I think to myself.

"Why?"

"Could you step out of the car please, sir?"

I get out of the car.

"Do you have any weapons or drugs on you? Anything that I need to know about in your pockets?"

"No, sir."

"Any weapons or drugs in your car?"

"No."

"Would you mind if I searched the car?"

I hesitate. Normally, I'd never let a cop search my car, but this isn't a local cop, it's a State Trooper, and he appears to have an axe to grind. I don't want to give this asspipe any excuses to run me in, so I reluctantly agree.

"Go right ahead."

He shines his light into my car, and then, much to my surprise, out come the handcuffs.

"Could you turn around and put your hands behind your back, sir?"

"What?"

"Turn around and place your hands behind your back."

"I'm sorry, am I under arrest?"

"Not at the moment."

"If I'm not under arrest, why am I in cuffs? Is this really necessary?"

"Juuuust makin' sure that you're not going anywhere."

So now I'm cuffed, and Officer Dickhead checks my pockets. In no time, he's rooting through my car, but while it goes against my principles to let a cop search my car for no reason, I know that there's nothing in there for him to find, so it's only a matter of time before the cuffs come off...

Right?

For those that don't know, my car is an '03 BMW 530. I don't mention that to be all "Hey, look at me, I drive a Beemer." Quite frankly, I could do without it. It's a nice car, but it's an albatross. It's basically a rolling debt. It's $540/month on four wheels. When we bought it, it made sense. That was before we had a two-year-old and a baby on the way. These days, I'd rather spend that money on diapers. At this point, I wish someone would just buy the damned thing from me and save me the hassle. Side note: Anyone wanna buy an '03 BMW 530?

The reason that I mention my car's make and model is this: Where most cars have a center console, which is a great stash spot for contraband, my car has an armrest. It slides forward and back, but it doesn't open. Try telling this to Officer Dickhead.

Now he's sliding the armrest back and forth, utterly confused, and yanking like hell on the thing.

"Hey, easy man! You're gonna break that thing!"

"Sir, I'm gonna need you to open this center console."

"It's not a center console, it's an armrest. It doesn't open."

He keeps yanking on it. Hard. How it didn't break, I'll never know.

"Sir, I'm gonna ask you one more time to open this center console."

(under my breath: "Oh my god.") " Dude. It's not a center console. It's an armrest. There isn't a compartment there. Slide the thing forward. Okay? You see how the exposed part is solid? Right. There's no compartment there. It's an armrest. It slides back and forth and that's all it does. It doesn't open up because what's directly beneath it is the track which allows it to slide back and forth."

Mind you, my hands are cuffed behind my back, so the previous monologue is delivered with accompanying nods and head gestures towards the general area of the center of the cabin of the vehicle, where the armrest is.Basically, I'm trying my damndest to make Officer Dickhead understand what the hell I'm talking about before he breaks my goddamned car. When he's got the armrest forward, I'm frantically nodding forward as I explain how the thing works, which must've made me look like The Chicken Lady from "The Kids in the Hall. " I'm standing outside of the car, handcuffed, almost a foot away from the open door, trying to point at a small part of the interior with my nose.

Finally satisfied that the armrest doesn't open up, but with an extremely suspicious look on his face, he reluctantly gets his keys and takes the cuffs off.

"Okay. I want you to lean your head back, and close your eyes. Extend your left arm flat with your palms up, and bending at the elbow, touch your nose with the first two fingers on your left hand."

Again, under my breath: "Here we go..."

After a full battery of field sobriety tests, I was asked if I'd submit to a breathalyzer test.

"Sure. Why not?"

"You should know that if you're lying to me, this machine's gonna tell me. I mean if you've had so much as one beer tonight, I'm gonna know about it."

I blew, and he took the machine. I could see from the look on his face that he was disappointed by the "0.00" reading that he must've been looking at. He goes back to his car for a couple of minutes, and then returns with my documents.

"Where are you headed tonight?"

"I'm on my way to a friend's house."

"Where's your friend live?"

I point in the direction which my car is currently facing. "Um, that way."

"Alright." He hands me my license & insurance papers.

"That's it?"

"Yep. That's it. You be careful tonight, okay?"

"Um, I thought I was being careful, but, okay."

He turns to walk away, but stops himself. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Um, I guess so..."

"What's that license plate supposed to mean?"

...

"Well, it means that I don't believe in God, and I don't have a religion. I'm an atheist."

"Son, you need to get to know Jesus Christ. Have a good night, now."

"Okay....."



Unreal.

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