I was involved in a high speed chase earlier this week. Ok, OK. I use “involved” loosely. Watch-it-go-down-as-I-was-on-the-interstate is more of an accurate description of the situation at hand. Before I get to exactly what happened, let me just say I do not condone running from the cops in any way, shape or form. You will get caught. Especially if you do it all wrong, like this person did.
Now, a list of all the dumbass things this person did while running from the cops:
1) It was 4:45 pm. That means we were just way too close to 5:00 traffic. C’mon. You can’t run properly if you’re stuck in traffic like the rest of us. He had to drive in the emergency lane and everyone knows that’s where all the fender benders are parked. JESUS.
2) He was in a hunter green Mini Cooper. Yea, that’s a little wee british car there, mate. Meant for city driving and parallel parking, not speeding off from the cops. IT DIDN’T EVEN HAVE RACING STRIPES.
3) He gave up too easily. I actually saw the guy get caught about a football length in front of me. AT LEAST LET THEM BREAK OUT THE SPIKES. You went through all this trouble, after all. You’re already going to the slammer, douche.
4) He was white. No, I’m not racial profiling. White people cause issues just as much as all the other races. That’s not what I mean. He was A SCRAWNY NERD WHITE DUDE WEARING LOAFERS. That’s what I mean. At least try to look badass. Mess your hair up or something.
Guys, seriously, this guy caused traffic to be backed up and he didn’t even give us a good show. Learn your lesson here today. Don’t run from the cops. And if you do, do it the right way.
One of my favorite other blogs to read recently did a post about the ghetto (read http://mooselicker.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/ghettos/), which inspired me to tell you guys about my own run-in with the ghetto. While I was still in college, I lived (with J-brid) in a tiny apartment about a half a mile away from campus. The people beside me were in a band, the little asian girls that lived above us eventually burned their apartment down & people were always breaking into the pool area at 2 am to have parties. Occasionally, there were gunshots. The carwash up the street always had black Escalades with tinted windows parked there. Yes, we were indeed in the ghetto.
I used to ride my bike that I lovingly named Pinky to school everyday. I had to park Pinky outside my apartment, but I chained her up to the railing, oh I dunno, 4 feet from my front door. She had a little registration tag on her so that she could also be parked on campus without being towed? or whatever they do to unregistered bikes.
The morning that Pinky went missing, I was supposed to have a meeting with the chancellor’s wife, so I had on my best outfit. That’s when I noticed…Pinky was gone. J-bird & I decided before the meeting (we had like 2 hours) we’d go to the on-campus security office to report her as missing. They told us to call the police. We called the police. They told us to call campus security. You get the idea. I was given the run-around. Bummed that Pinky may be gone forever, we began walking to my meeting, as J-bird yelled, There! Over there she is! I immediately looked up to see a young thug in a blue jacket riding my Pinky down the road! I dailed the police back as we took off running. I’m pursuing the bike suspect on foot! I yelled to cop.
We followed the thug all the way to the library (yea exactly where I’d go too with a stolen bike) where we watched him chain it to a tree. The cops then met us there to get a full description of the suspect. Then we had to wait 2 hours while they searched the library for the thug to arrest him…yes. Over a bike. Yes, I missed my meeting, having to send a classmate in my place.
Turns out the thug was a 12 year old child…that just wanted a bike. Nonetheless, Pinky went back home with me that day & we happily spent the rest of the school year together. Then, I moved to another ghetto.
Stay safe out there.