Gotta Love those Fine Men in Blue!

Officer “Pork, the Other White Meat,” Goodwin

A few months ago, I was making a mad dash with the kids to Main Street in Keene to sell off some old Backstreet Boys (I know, I know) CDs at the local pawn shop. I figured the ten cents per CD might buy us a few Dollar Menu double cheeseburgers before my son’s football banquet. Worth a shot, right?
Anyway, it was around 4:30 – it was 4:19 to be precise – when I pulled a U Turn on Main Street. I’d never been to this particular pawn shop before and I avoid the traffic loving Main Street as often as humanly possible. But on this afternoon, out of work early, and with a plan to make a small fortune on the 100s of CDs and DVDs piled into boxes in the Jeep, the kids and I were feeling brave. I happily pulled the U Turn when I spotted the pawn shop and – holy shit! in Keene? and on Main Street? – a parking spot.
My initial bliss turned to that dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach when I saw the blue lights of a cruiser from my rearview mirror. Well, that’s no biggie. I wasn’t speeding. I must have a light out or something. Wait. Is it even dark enough for lights? I quickly checked my inspection sticker. Yep. All good. I wonder what he wants. “Jake! Do you have your seatbelt on?” “Yeah, Ma.” Check.
No sooner had I run my mental list of “Are you sure it’s me you are pulling over, officer?” when I was looking into the eyes of a very pissy Officer (Pork Chop, Bacon Breath, Bacon Bits) Goodwin. “License and registration, ma’am.” I didn’t argue, and handed him my documentation with a happy smile. I knew there had to be a mistake. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Officer Goodwin went to his cruiser to check on the lengthy criminal record I was more than positive he would not find. He was gone a full twenty minutes, making a traffic back up on Main Street during what was becoming the end of the day rush hour. I kept my head low, hoping none of my co workers saw me and wondering what was taking him so long.
Main Street was getting crowded quickly. I’d forgotten that at 4:20 p.m. every day, the local college students, former vets, cancer patients, hippies, and well – just about everyone without a job in town, and even many with jobs – crowd the street holding signs for the legalization of marijuana. This movement had started a few weeks ago and participants had vowed to bring their pro-pot signs (and in some cases, paraphernalia and joints themselves) to the center of town. The would not stop, they insisted, until pot was legal in the Granite State. I was watching these people march up and down Main Street with their signs – thinking back to my own pot smoking days – and wondering if my kids understood what was going on.
Lost in thought, I was startled when Bacon Breath tapped on my window. He promptly handed me a ticket for $72 for pulling an illegal U Turn. I was baffled. There was no sign preventing a U Turn. I told him so, in a polite, God I hate former hall monitors with short man’s syndrome sort of way. He smirked, and pointed to the back of what he claimed to be a no U Turn sign.
Now, Bacon Breath could have cared less that I could not actually SEE the sign, because the only sign in front of me was one that said 4:2o Friendly! being held by a man in ripped jeans and a heavy flannel jacket. I wondered how long our neighborhood hippie had been standing there, blocking the sign from any one’s view. I tried to point this out to Pork Chop. He wasn’t impressed. Apparently, drivers on Main Street in Keene are expected to have X-ray vision and see THROUGH cardboard rally signs to the traffic signs they block.
You see, the rules in Keene are different from the rules in other places. Not only are you supposed to have X-ray vision, but, it’s more important to catch wild mothers on a pawn shop selling mission than it is to stop the people smoking weed in public on public streets at 4:20 in the afternoon.
Now, I’m not sure if I am for the legalization of marijuana or not. I frankly, don’t care! But what I am for is fairness here! The fact is that I could not see the sign because of a protester on the street. I don’t care whether that person was protesting pot laws or the war: It’s the police department’s duty to make sure that there is order and that drivers are safe and can navigate the roads safely regardless of who is protesting what. It’s also their job to uphold the law.
The law is that pot is illegal. Yet, it’s ok for hundreds of people to gather on public land and smoke it. But it’s not ok for me – with no criminal record and only one speeding ticket on the books (which I was totally guilty of) – to make an honest error?
I’m thinking Pork Chop (like many cops I know) was too afraid to deal with the real issue at hand that day and felt it better (and easier) to pick on the little lady with the smile than it was to deal with the potheads. It was, after all the end of the month and he had his quota to make.
But it gets even BETTER ladies and gents!
A week later, I’m sitting in my house late at night (we’re talking 11:30 here). Everything is quiet and the only people up are my oldest son and I. We’re watching a movie in the living room. I’m falling asleep (nothing new, I can’t ever seem to stay awake for movies). Suddenly, my 12-year-old SCREAMS, “MOM! WAKE UP! THERE’S SOMEONE SHINING FLASHLIGHTS INTO OUR WINDOWS!”
I about shit myself.
There’s nothing like being the primary weapon for your family’s safety and protection. You know you’re a wimp. You’re more than aware that your martial arts skills consist of twirling the chopsticks when you eat sushi. And best of all? The “man” you’ve been raising is already making a bee-line for the other room. Yep, you’re on your own here, Mom.
Sleep in my eyes, I reach for the phone – ready to call the fine men in blue (whom, for some reason, I STILL believe in). That’s when the flashlight shines directly into the glass panel on the front door. I freeze. Squinting from around the corner and fumbling for the 9 button on my phone, I see the glint of a badge. I look closer. Yep, it’s a police officer. Wow! Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on Bacon Breath after all (cursing his name to everyone in town who’d listen). Maybe they saw a burglar, rapist, murderer shining flashlights into unsuspecting women’s homes and is here to rescue us. WAKE UP, MOM! You’re not thinking straight!
Of course, it’s the darn cop who’s doing the shining in the first place! Duh! I stumble toward the door. “Yes, officer, can I help you?” He verifies my name and tells me it is imperative I call the Keene Police Department this very moment. I’m horrified. “Why? What’s this about? Did something happen? Is everything ok?” He responds that he knows nothing (shocker) except that I need to call them immediately. He gives me their non emergency number.
Pork Chop answers the phone. I tell him who I am, entirely not placing the name with our recent run in on Main Street (after all, I’ve already filled out the back of the ticket – marked it not guilty – and have sent it out for a court date). Pork Chop tells me that he made an error on the ticket he sent me. Instead of a $72 fine, it’s a $74 fine.
WELL, THANK YOU OFFICER! Thank you for scaring the shit out of me. Thank you for protecting our streets from druggies. Thank you for disrupting my home in the middle of the night and waking my children and pets. And, most of all, THANK YOU for telling me I have to pay another $2 for something that wasn’t even my fault in the first place! Justice has been served! You must feel fucking proud!
I virtually hang up with him.
Three days later, I receive a new (corrected) ticket in the mail. But Bacon Bits is so sloppy that he forgets to make a copy of both sides of this new ticket, making it impossible for me to even have the option of entering a not guilty plea. I throw it in a file (the one I will take to court with me) and curse his name for the remainder of the week.
This is a man who has NOTHING better to do than harass ordinary, law abiding people. This is a man who ENJOYS torturing people. This is a man who doesn’t get laid. Or, if he does, he HAS to be on top.
I am excited about my April court date. I am anxious to tell the judge about Bacon Bit’s fine attention to detail and his uncanny ability to make quotas at any cost. While the City of Keene is stoned, no one there need fear the wild U Turn avoiding good citizens headed to the pawn shop for quick cash.
I made $12 at the thrift shop that day. In the end, I’ll probably lose more than $60. But you can bet your bippy that we’ll be eating Pork Roast that night in April, win or lose, in tribute to the hard work and fine service of officer Goodwin!
If you’re ever on Main Street in Keene and you see a woman standing in front of a U Turn sigh with a poster reading “Honk for Hogs!” and smoking a crack pipe with an unregistered gun tied to her hip and threatening passersby for no apparent reason (hey, laws don’t apply in Keene unless they are traffic laws!) be sure to say hello! But whatever you do, don’t make a U Turn!