The police took my truck. Again. I don't know what it is, but they sure like to come after me. Maybe it's 'cause they think I have money. Ha ha...jokes on them.
Last night at 11 PM I was driving someone home, and just two minutes from the house we ran into a checkpoint. That's usually not a big deal because I finally have everything together on my truck. All the paperwork...all the stickers...everything. So generally they look me over a bit and send me on my way. This time, however, they started hastling me about the tint on my windows. My front windows are fine, but the back two have been tinted darker. Technically they're not supposed to be, but everyone's are, and for the most part, no one cares.
Well, last night it seemed they cared. At least about me. As we sat there and tried to explain to the officer that I had been trying to take the tint off (and I had...it's about half gone) but that it all wouldn't all come off, I noticed that all the other vehicles being stopped were leaving again after a couple of minutes. And they ALL had the same tint I had. But nope...we had to go to the local police office.
So we started all over again with the officer in the office. We explained our position and then he explained his position and then we explained our position again and then he explained his position...that went on for quite some time. Neither one of us wanted to back down. He wanted the equivalent of about $400 and I really didn't want to pay that. The only other option was for them to take my truck for 72 hours. I really didn't want that either.
The brother-in-law of a friend of mine is pretty high up in the police department, so I tried calling him (he's been helpful in the past!), but I couldn't get ahold of him. By now it was after 1 AM and I was running out of options. We finally agreed to leave my truck in the compound for the night and I would come back in the morning.
Six o'clock in the morning found me back at the police station trying to track down anyone who could help me. I found out that my police friend was travelling and there was no way to contact him. So I was starting to reconcile myself the the fact that I was soon to be a lot poorer. It was the same officer from the night before, so I talked with him some more about the situation. I was my very polite and helpful Canadian self, even though there were a few inconsistencies in the whole situation that I quite badly wanted to point out. But I held my tongue. The officer knew I was trying to contact this friend (who's actually the director of Interpol here in Santa Cruz) although I think he was pretty skeptical that I actually knew him.
It was funny, even after I knew I wasn't going to be able to talk to Robert (my friend) I kept sitting there. I really, REALLY didn't want to pay the money. Especially when I didn't really think I was at fault. =) There isn't even that much tint left on my windows. Another officer helpfully explained to me that because I'm the director of a children's home, I could have gotten special permission to have my windows tinted. Really? Not that I'm complaining...but why exactly?
At any rate, that little piece of information didn't really help me right then. My police officer friend from the night before came back outside and so I started chatting him up a little. He actually spoke some English, so we talked about that. Even though I knew I wouldn't be able to talk to Robert, I just kept sitting there. I'm polite but darn stubborn. Finally, my new friend (who I think was starting to feel bad about the situation) said, "Maybe if I talked to his wife..."
Really? Perfect! I called her house and...she had gone to the market. Without her cell phone. When I told that to the officer, he just shook his head and said, "Now that really sounds like a story." I actually started laughing because I knew how it sounded too. I was like, "I know, I know..." He told me he could give me twenty more minutes and then he had to go off shift. I called my friend's house again, and this time her son answered and told me that she'd be gone for about an hour. Great.
So again, I started to reconcile myself to paying. I didn't have the money, so I called a friend to see if he could come by the police station and loan it to me. He said he could. So as I waited for him and prayed...I kept trying to call my other friend's wife.
With about three minutes to go...she answered! I'm not sure I can explain how happy I was finally to hear her voice on the other end of the line. I explained to her the situation and ran to find my police buddy. I think she was a little surprised that this officer had agreed to talk to her. I mean, technically she could have been the crazy lady across the street and he wouldn't have known the difference. But whatever, who am I to argue with the police.
Yea, that sounded funny even as I wrote it. After just having spent the last four hours arguing with the police, I'm a bit of an expert.
My police buddy took the phone and explained to her the situation and then asked her to let her husband know that he was granting me this favour (which I technically I guess they're allowed to do...strangely enough...) and with that, he handed me my keys and told me to go home. Which I did. Quickly. Before anyone could change their minds.
And that, my friends, was how I spent my Sunday morning...
PS Later, when I was telling the guys what had happened (they were all sleeping and had no idea I'd had any problems), Yimy laughed and said, "Yea, those police don't know you very well. They should know that Ken Switzer never pays!"
And it's true.
Last night at 11 PM I was driving someone home, and just two minutes from the house we ran into a checkpoint. That's usually not a big deal because I finally have everything together on my truck. All the paperwork...all the stickers...everything. So generally they look me over a bit and send me on my way. This time, however, they started hastling me about the tint on my windows. My front windows are fine, but the back two have been tinted darker. Technically they're not supposed to be, but everyone's are, and for the most part, no one cares.
Well, last night it seemed they cared. At least about me. As we sat there and tried to explain to the officer that I had been trying to take the tint off (and I had...it's about half gone) but that it all wouldn't all come off, I noticed that all the other vehicles being stopped were leaving again after a couple of minutes. And they ALL had the same tint I had. But nope...we had to go to the local police office.
So we started all over again with the officer in the office. We explained our position and then he explained his position and then we explained our position again and then he explained his position...that went on for quite some time. Neither one of us wanted to back down. He wanted the equivalent of about $400 and I really didn't want to pay that. The only other option was for them to take my truck for 72 hours. I really didn't want that either.
The brother-in-law of a friend of mine is pretty high up in the police department, so I tried calling him (he's been helpful in the past!), but I couldn't get ahold of him. By now it was after 1 AM and I was running out of options. We finally agreed to leave my truck in the compound for the night and I would come back in the morning.
Six o'clock in the morning found me back at the police station trying to track down anyone who could help me. I found out that my police friend was travelling and there was no way to contact him. So I was starting to reconcile myself the the fact that I was soon to be a lot poorer. It was the same officer from the night before, so I talked with him some more about the situation. I was my very polite and helpful Canadian self, even though there were a few inconsistencies in the whole situation that I quite badly wanted to point out. But I held my tongue. The officer knew I was trying to contact this friend (who's actually the director of Interpol here in Santa Cruz) although I think he was pretty skeptical that I actually knew him.
It was funny, even after I knew I wasn't going to be able to talk to Robert (my friend) I kept sitting there. I really, REALLY didn't want to pay the money. Especially when I didn't really think I was at fault. =) There isn't even that much tint left on my windows. Another officer helpfully explained to me that because I'm the director of a children's home, I could have gotten special permission to have my windows tinted. Really? Not that I'm complaining...but why exactly?
At any rate, that little piece of information didn't really help me right then. My police officer friend from the night before came back outside and so I started chatting him up a little. He actually spoke some English, so we talked about that. Even though I knew I wouldn't be able to talk to Robert, I just kept sitting there. I'm polite but darn stubborn. Finally, my new friend (who I think was starting to feel bad about the situation) said, "Maybe if I talked to his wife..."
Really? Perfect! I called her house and...she had gone to the market. Without her cell phone. When I told that to the officer, he just shook his head and said, "Now that really sounds like a story." I actually started laughing because I knew how it sounded too. I was like, "I know, I know..." He told me he could give me twenty more minutes and then he had to go off shift. I called my friend's house again, and this time her son answered and told me that she'd be gone for about an hour. Great.
So again, I started to reconcile myself to paying. I didn't have the money, so I called a friend to see if he could come by the police station and loan it to me. He said he could. So as I waited for him and prayed...I kept trying to call my other friend's wife.
With about three minutes to go...she answered! I'm not sure I can explain how happy I was finally to hear her voice on the other end of the line. I explained to her the situation and ran to find my police buddy. I think she was a little surprised that this officer had agreed to talk to her. I mean, technically she could have been the crazy lady across the street and he wouldn't have known the difference. But whatever, who am I to argue with the police.
Yea, that sounded funny even as I wrote it. After just having spent the last four hours arguing with the police, I'm a bit of an expert.
My police buddy took the phone and explained to her the situation and then asked her to let her husband know that he was granting me this favour (which I technically I guess they're allowed to do...strangely enough...) and with that, he handed me my keys and told me to go home. Which I did. Quickly. Before anyone could change their minds.
And that, my friends, was how I spent my Sunday morning...
PS Later, when I was telling the guys what had happened (they were all sleeping and had no idea I'd had any problems), Yimy laughed and said, "Yea, those police don't know you very well. They should know that Ken Switzer never pays!"
And it's true.
4 comments:
I wonder if you can get that made into a bumper sticker....
Oh...probably... =)
BWAHAHAHA! You say I don't think you are funny...you are VERY funny. You get into so many unreal situations and then it turns into a fabulous story because you always come out on top! LOL They should know by now that you are the guy who has no money but ends up staying in a mansion. The guy who has no money but ends up with 3 invitations for lunch out. You are the guy who God takes care of. :0)
Ha ha...thanks Kate! I figured you'd like that story... =)
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