Anton Gets Wound Up Over An Affront To His Dignity, Chapter CLXIV.
Sunday a policeman pulled me over (for lacking a current tax sticker on my car; it was lost in the mail). I started to stand up, the better to speak face to face (nor do I easily pass up an opportunity to stretch my legs), when a threatening voice said “Stay in the car!” In what I hope was a mild tone, I asked “Why?” The cop replied, as if stating the obvious, “Because I told you to.” Not having an answer ready for that one, I shut up and remained seated.
So, naturally, for two days I’ve been rehearsing what I might have said.
“And I heard you, but I’m not your dog. (Dog I may be but not yours or the State’s.) I don’t ask for much; if you won’t say why, you can at least say ‘please’.
“The only reason I’m not standing up right now is that I don’t want to get shot. Now maybe you’re satisfied with that, but I can’t believe it’s good for the community when a citizen’s first thought on meeting a policeman is ‘I hope he doesn’t hurt me.’
“Now, you can put me in a more cooperative mood by saving me the trouble of asking your superiors for a civil answer to a reasonable question. Or would you rather arrest me for showing insufficient servility?”
Well, anyway. After consulting his radio, the cop bought my story; it probably helped that I had made a color copy of the title. He said lack of registration is often a symptom of, er, stolen-ness; and I suppose he’d rather not see a felon standing up ready to flee or fire. (Dad asks: shouldn’t he be more concerned that I might have a gun in the car where a cop can’t see it?)
I do not consider that delayed and oblique explanation a fair substitute for basic courtesy.
I’m reminded somehow of the incident of the coins. Several years ago someone on a street corner invited me to buy some “silver dollars”, one of which was a double eagle ($20 gold coin, worth over $300 in today’s debased currency). I thought, if he can’t tell silver from gold he deserves to be taken; so I paid the asking price of $25 for the three coins — and a few heartbeats later said to myself, “They’re stolen, dummy.” So the next day I called the city police to ask whether any such theft had been reported. They bounced me to three different desks, and the last one said, “Receiving stolen goods is a crime, you know.” I took the hint; the coins remain in my possession.
Having got all that off my chest, perhaps I can sleep now.