One interesting thing I should bring up is my sister and I went to talk to the sarge in charge at the Cottage Grove po-leese office about a month ago to complain about what a complete asshole this guy was to me when he pulled me over. He was quick to tell us that the man who pulled me over was a "great guy with no previous complaints who was just doing his job" and a bunch of other muckamuck that basically boiled down to this: "Cops are great people that do nothing wrong. This guy is a Grade A outstanding human who you should thank for straightening you out and making Cottage Grove a better place to live. Thanks for coming down and have a nice day!" The needle on my internal Bullshit Detect-O-Meter was as far as it could be from the Non-Bullshit side, but there was nothing we could do.
Court day started off meeting with my public defender to discuss what the plan of action was. She was a very cool, feisty lady that was ready to kick some ass for yours truly (which she did).
She told me that some coppers wait for an old car or an old driver to pass by and purposely scan their plates because usually old cars or old drivers have some sort of offense tacked onto them whether they know it or not. It was written in my report that the only reason the officer pulled me over was because my car is old. She told me in essence that she thought the officer was an asshole, thought this was discriminatory bullshit and I was quick to shout out an "AMEN TO THAT, SISTER!" which got a good laugh out of her.
She then told me a delightful story about the CG police to let me know what kind of people I was dealing with: Recently the Cottage Grove police chief's SUV was found overturned in a ditch with his badge and gun in it. He mysteriously was nowhere to be found until 12 hours later when he popped into a hospital - she pointed out to me that 12 hours was a decent amount of time for one to let one's blood alcohol level return back to zero. Interesting, eh?! If you like to read about stupid things that authorities try to abuse their power to get away with, the Star Tribune was kind enough to report the story here.
So anywho, she talked to whoever she needed to in order to see what she could do. She came back and gave me two options:
- Plead guilty, pay a $170 fine, nothing goes on my driving record - over, finished, done, gone, out, end of story.
- Plead not guilty, return to court in another month to face the officer and see what happens.
I opted for #1 because I wanted to get this shit over with ASAP. She agreed that it was probably the smart thing to do - so in the courtroom I went for round 2. Ding Ding!
Before it was my turn, the judge had just sentenced a gentleman that was pulled over for a DWI (his first ever moving violation as his lawyer mentioned) to 90 days in jail, attending various M.A.D.D. seminars, 1 year license suspension, and a $1,000 fine. I guess this is what happens to drunk drivers that aren't police chiefs.
I went up to the judge who was a different one than the happy-go-lucky guy I had last time. He was a crotchety old man with a scab on the left side of his forehead. Mine eyes were drawn to that scab like a thong to a buttcrack, I tells ya! Nothing is worse than when you see something like a scab or a big fat cold sore on somebody's yap. You feel like they know you're overdoing the eye contact thing in lieu of letting your eyes wander, because the second you let them, you just know they'll zone straight in on that blemish. Remember the mole from Austin Powers? Just like that.
I talked to the judge and thankfully managed to keep my eyes steered away from the pet Wheatie living on his forehead, agreed to the deal and that was that. No more court, no more worries.
I started wondering: was option #1 really the smart way to go or not? I will never face Officer Tackleberry in court and he probably won't even get his wrist slapped for this. Not that he would otherwise, but it sure would have been fun to watch my public defender lady go after him.
That's that - I reckon I should move on. There's people that have experienced much worse than I with the po-leese and I now have a special place in the cockles of my heart for them. Hehe - I said cockles! Cockles... cockles... COCKLE DOODLE DOO
I would like to thank my family and Kimb for their selfless generosity pertaining to this hogwash. My Pinto is ill right now and I don't have a car - my sister came all the way out to Minneapolis to pick me up. Mom and Pops saw to it that when I left their house yesterday that I took one of their vehicles to use for the time being just in case I have a job interview I need to get to (HA!! Job interview... that's a good one.)
My parents are the cutest, most generous parents you could ask for and always see to it that their kids' tummies are full. My mom sent me home with a care package of sorts, the contents of which I will list for you below. It's a good closer to all of this lame ass court bullshit which I will not soon forget. So without further ado, here's a complete list of my stash from Mom, because I think it's adorable... not to mention it's a rather entertaining assortment of goods that will all be put to good use.
- 9 bottles of Newcastle
- 1 pack of gum
- leftover meat loaf
- potato salad
- buns with which to lay the meat loaf on
- vegetables and dip
- 1 brick of Cub Foods brand Velveeta
- Tupperware Velveeta storage device
- a bunch of DVDs
- 1 jar of peanut butter
Oh, and dear Cottage Grove Police Department:
