Nomination For a Hero Badge

Yeah, it happens. At least from the driver’s standpoint. There is no guarantee that it will work. A couple of war stories.

I stopped a college girl for speeding, it was late afternoon. As I approached the car I caught a glimpse of monied homeowner puttering in his front yard. I looked in the driver’s window and caught the very attractive driver hiking up her skirt and unbuttoning a button on her blouse. I made my contact and asked her for her driver’s license.

She was smiling and all wiggley like a puppy. When she turned to present her driver’s license she rested her boobs on the door frame. Whatever lift that her push up bra failed to provide was supplemented by the door. Wonderful boobs, batting baby blues, all friendly and cuddly.

I knew my duty and I started writing the ticket. The promise of what might have been disappeared as soon as pen touched paper. I don’t know that her daddy was a navy chief, but her language indicated a passing familiarity with and a command of the language familiar to most navy chiefs. In addition she had two girlfriends singing the chorus.

I finished my task and presented the citation for her signature. She signed it and threw the pen at me. I gave her, her copy and told her to,” Have nice day!”

When a cop tells you to have a nice day, accompanied by a shit eating grin, what they are actually saying is: “Fuck you.”

She tore away from the traffic stop, peeling rubber and scattering gravel. She got the last word in, she thought, as she shouted, “You sonovabitch.”

I watched her head off into the sunset as I added one final note to the citation. I was interrupted in the task by the homeowner. He was jumping up an down yelling: “Go get her, arrest her, I heard what she said.”

It turns out that he was the president of the most prominent bank in town. Hey, cops can play the victim card too. I explained to him that the Supreme Court had determined that a peace officer’s peace could not be disturbed. Whatever invective a citizen wanted to direct my way was perfectly acceptable. He demanded my card and assured me that he would be contacting the Chief.

He did indeed contact the Chief and heaped all sorts of praise upon me. Chief gave me kudos for playing the bank president, but not the bimbo.

On her court date the sweet young thing showed up in court. When her time came to address the court, she approached the bench. She was wearing a scoop top dress. The bench is about five feet high and it was a reach. However she managed to get up on tippy toes and perch her boobs on the bench and then stand flat footed. It was all for naught, the judge was homosexual.

She batted her eyes. She employed the coy smile as she asked for defensive driving.

The judge had a live one and he wasn’t going to let her wiggle loose. “The officer made a notation on his copy of the citation. Can I see yours? Just as I suspected his note doesn’t appear on your copy.

Did you call the officer a son-of-a-bitch? It’s a commonly expressed sentiment toward him. I can’t imagine why he didn’t arrest you. He generally arrests everybody. Oh well, here it is I accept your no contest plea and reject the defensive driving request. The fine for speeding can be up to two hundred dollars. Normally your fine would be forty-seven, fifty. The fine for Disorderly Conduct language is fifty-three, fifty. So I’m fining you one hundred and one fifty.

If you truly believe the officer is, as you say, then put your money where your mouth is. On the other hand, if you feel you were might hasty, then write the officer a letter of apology in care of this court. If the letter is acceptable, then the fine will go back to forty-seven, fifty.”

I got a letter.

The second story involves a Dallas motor jockey. For those that don’t speak police, that is a traffic officer that rides a motorcycle. Near the end of shift he made a traffic stop on a female driver. She could have been a twin for the one pictured above. He couldn’t resist and stated that he got off in twenty minutes. If she wanted to wait for him at the Do Drop Inn, they could discuss her situation over drinks. Then wind up at the No Tell Motel.

That was all she needed. She went off on him and recited a whole list of things that he was, and none of them complimentary. She threatened to call his sergeant, Internal Affairs, the District attorney, and the FBI. When she finally slowed down, the motor jockey responded.

“I suppose a head job is out of the question?

One more and I’m done. I stopped a coed who made no bones about the fact that she was guilty as sin. I told her I was issuing a citation. She didn’t have a problem with that.

I try to make this simple. I used a ballistic clipboard. I typically braced on my gun belt and steadied it with my left elbow. The flashlight was in my left hand. From that position it could illuminate the clipboard, the suspect or use it as a club.

The coed intruded close enough to be within inches of the clip board. I couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She was also wearing a sweater with a loose weave. How loose? Her nipple poked through the weave and perched on my clipboard. She damn well knew it and never said a word. She signed the ticket and I gave her, her copy. As she made to leave, I couldn’t resist. I said, “It’s been nice seeing you.”

She laughed like hell. She also paid the ticket.

We used to have a saying,” The badge will get you pussy and pussy can get your badge!” Never ran across any that was worth it. It was close once or twice, but fortunately the spoke and the spell was broken.