Police in the South: More true Stories!
Bag of Doobage!
One day, I was parked in my patrol car on the side of the interstate somewhere in the southeastern USA . I was pondering the gross domestic product problems and attempting to come up with a solution when I noticed them. They were in an environmentally friendly Hyundai or something of that nature the feminine boys and tree hugging dip-shits enjoy. It was traveling north on the interstate coming down a huge hill into a small valley. I happened to notice the vehicle swerve around in the lane as it was approaching where I was parked. I could see that at least two people were in the vehicle.
As the car passes me I notice the driver, a white guy with pallid skin, has the most apparent fear of God look on his face. His eyes were as big as tennis balls, his jaws were clinched shut causing his lips to be white and thin, like the knuckles of a clinched fist. He may as well have taken a Sharpie marker and written, "I'm guilty" on his face. This expression made me curious, I entered the roadway and caught up with the vehicle.
As I was following the vehicle and calling in the tag number to dispatch, I noticed the driver and the passenger appeared to be arguing about something. They were looking at each other and talking urgently. Their heads were bobbing and wobbling, they were acting as if they were about to park the car, get out and spar on the roadside. As I was waiting on the tag information to return from my dispatcher, the oddest thing began to happen in the vehicle I was following. Apparently the discussion that had been taking place became slightly more heated.
I could not believe what I was witnessing. I have been behind thousands of vehicles in my 20 years of driving and have never witnessed such amusement as this. The driver was shoving something into the passengers lap. Then the passenger would do the same until the actions became more heated, the head wobbling and bobbing began to escalate. At this point the buffoons were concentrating on what their argument was about and forgot they were in a compact, eco-friendly, lesbian car traveling at 70 MPH. The vehicle began to weave out of the lines, not out of control weaving, but more like when someone is looking for the beer they dropped in the floorboard kind of weaving.
Then without warning, the buffoons having both hands on the item began to push the item back and forth towards each other. They were making the motion that two lumberjacks make when one is on one end of a manual bow-saw and the other guy is on the opposite end sawing a large log into. They kept this motion up for a few seconds, all the while the car is drifting out of the lane straddling the lane divider lines. While they were sawing the log, I noticed a small cloud of what appeared to be dust appear between them. The dust quickly faded, settling onto whatever it happened to be hovering over. At the same time, the struggle stops suddenly. No more log sawing or head bobbing. The vehicle was corrected and brought into its proper lane and the buffoons were looking straight ahead as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.
The struggle and weaving took place in the space of one to two minutes. Dispatch returned the info and I commenced a traffic stop. The lesbian car wasted no time pulling over onto the shoulder. I got out of my patrol car and began to approach the vehicle, both buffoons were looking straight ahead. Since they were looking straight ahead and not at me, I decided to approach on the passenger side and inspect the inside of the vehicle before I make my presence known. As I got closer I could hear the two buffoons arguing with each other, but continuing to look straight ahead. They never cut their eyes to the mirror or attempted to turn their heads, only straight ahead. I found this odd and really wanted to inspect things well before I announced my arrival.
I looked into the backseat and saw nothing out of the normal car trash realm. Then I took another step towards the front seats and spied what may have been the root of the argument. There was a green herb looking substance that happened to be about the size of the dust I had witnessed appear out of nowhere amidst the buffoons struggle. The buffoons had been trying to hand a plastic sandwich baggie full of marijuana to each other. When the "sawing" began, far too much stress was placed on the weak bag. The bag literally exploded and weed was absolutely on everything in the car like giant dust particles.
I thought to myself, "What a couple of dumb asses".Then I approached the window slowly, putting my game face on planning to have some fun with these stupid idiots. Tap-Tap-Tap on the window with my knuckle. The passenger turns his head towards me to look at me as if he is completely befuddled by my presence, but I can see the terror in his eyes that my Tap-Tap-Tap struck in his heart. I said to him through the glass," If you roll the window down just a smidgen we may be able to communicate a little better". He was a white male, his skin was also pallid.
The passenger, with reluctance, rolled the window down. The smell of marihuana has permeated inside the car so severely that I was immediately struck by the odor, validating my prior visual suspicions of the substance. At this point I look past his paleness to the pale driver and say."You got your license on you"? Totally going along with their charade of "Nothing out of the ordinary here, Sir". The driver digs in his pocket, while marijuana is falling off his clothes, and retrieves his wallet. He produces his license continuing to act like nothing is out of the ordinary. When he hands me his license he finally speaks to me.
If you have ever watched Will and Grace you will know who Jack is. He is the gay friend of Will and Grace. He has the stereotypical gay male speech inflection and his physical actions are just so gay. That's what the guy driving this car sounded like. Since there were two of them I figured I had better secure one of them, you never know who will fight. (Even if they are sweet) First I ask the passenger to step out and to the rear of the vehicle. When he gets out of the car I began to tell him that I need to pat him down for any weapons or guns and direct him to place his hands on the car. i noticed he was wearing a short shirt like the "Z" snappers on In Living Color and some kind of gay hip hugger pants. When he turned and put his hands on the car I quietly got my cuffs out, then reached around (Not that Kind!!!!) to grab a hand. He gave no resistance and was handcuffed. I then placed him where I could see his friend / whatever over his shoulder while I asked a few pertinent questions about the substance I had seen.
I began by asking him," Are there any illegal substances or weapons in the vehicle". he then gives the standard answer which in reality means yes, " Not that I know of, It's not my car". At this point I began to toy with him and asked him what the green stuff was as I was plucking it off his shirt and pants. he of course maintains that he has never seen the stuff before and has no idea what that could be.
Satisfied with his answer, I placed him in the patrol car so that I could ask the driver the same questions. Sometimes, not very often, whoever the bag belongs to will confess and only one person has to be arrested, but there's more dumb asses than intelligent folk in the southeastern USA. They can't understand the simple rule, if nobody claims it everybody goes to jail and the judge will decide who it belonged to. If it's claimed then you have someone to post bail and your car isn't towed into impound, it's really a deal if you think about it, your busted take the discount!
I proceed to treat the driver in the same manner and get him secured. He gave the same answers as his friend / whatever. he was dressed the same way his friend / whatever was. At this point I picked marijuana off of his clothes and placed him into my patrol car and informed them by saying, "I will be conducting a search incident to plain-view contraband inside the vehicle, not to mention the dime-bag I picked off your clothes". They had nothing to say.
I went to the car and began to pick marijuana up from everywhere inside the vehicle, I also located the exploded baggie. After a minute or two I looked back to my patrol car to make sure my boys were OK. They were at it again, heads bobbing and weaving yelling at each other passing blame. I just giggled and went about my business of gathering my evidence. When I was done I returned to my car to offer one more chance at a confession, but again I was denied.
I told them they were under arrest and we waited on a wrecker to arrive to get the vehicle off the roadside. That was the longest 20 minutes of my life, listening to them argue like married people. Jeez
Gets you to my profile where you will get more stories, and don't forget to become a fan to stay up to date onnew postings!