I'm not Officer, drunk! (The field sobriety test)
It was a boring Wednesday evening. The refrigerator was looking completely empty, so I had a grand idea. It was Wednesday and you can buy a footlong sub and get one free! (Two for Tuesday and Wednesday in Dyersburg). My little sister and her friend were over and, using some of my infinite benevolence, I decided to let the two girls get a sub of their own!
We were nearing the famous Dyersburg downtown (or the lack thereof). I was turning to get to the Subway parking lot and lo and behold my favorite spot was open (or so I thought)! The one that was perfect for a compact car such as my Pontiac Sunfire, anyways.
I park the car and enter the Subway. I turn a deaf ear to my juvenile sister and her friend as they giggle about my parking job. Sure I was a little over the line, but it didn't look that bad!
We get in the Subway and I am meticulously contemplating what I want on my sub sandwhich! I go with a foot-long Italian BMT on honey oat. Everything on it, extra banana peppers, salt and pepper, oil and vinegar, and spicy mustart and mayo!
My chagrin is obviously noticeable when a man with a deep voice comes in and inquires about the green Pontiac Sunfire parked "improperly." I try to ignore the question but the friendly Subway employee points out it is mine. I turn around and realize it is a police officer. He asks me about the parking job and after reviewing the pitiful parking job, I go outside to fix my error as the car that was parked in front of me had moved. Unknowingly the officer follows me outside and asks for my licensee. I reach into my pocket and realize my wallet is not in my pocket, but rather on the computer desk at home! I fumble around the car with no success, and the officer realizes this. I turn around dumb-founded.
The situation gets worse as the officer inquires about my alleged "bloodshot eyes" and asks if I have been drinking. It was 7 p.m. on a Wednesday night, so naturally my thought response was completely sarcastic, the sort of response you give your mother when she asks a question you already answered. I put my facetious reply aside, and respectfully answered no. I guess the honor system no longer has any value, as he proceeded to give me a Field Sobriety Test! Not only was I thoroughly embarrased, but I also became the spectacle of public ridicule after the Subway employee (the same one who turned me in, mind you) watched me intently with her face glued to the windowsill and began reporting the events play by play to my sister, her friend, and the other Subway employees and patrons! After the officer gives me two tests his satisfaction was achieved, and he lets me get my sandwhich. I proceed to the house to eat my Subway sandwhich in peace, with the event behind me.
Moral:
That special parking spot you want might not always be available. Sometimes you have to park in a boring spot.
We were nearing the famous Dyersburg downtown (or the lack thereof). I was turning to get to the Subway parking lot and lo and behold my favorite spot was open (or so I thought)! The one that was perfect for a compact car such as my Pontiac Sunfire, anyways.
I park the car and enter the Subway. I turn a deaf ear to my juvenile sister and her friend as they giggle about my parking job. Sure I was a little over the line, but it didn't look that bad!
We get in the Subway and I am meticulously contemplating what I want on my sub sandwhich! I go with a foot-long Italian BMT on honey oat. Everything on it, extra banana peppers, salt and pepper, oil and vinegar, and spicy mustart and mayo!
My chagrin is obviously noticeable when a man with a deep voice comes in and inquires about the green Pontiac Sunfire parked "improperly." I try to ignore the question but the friendly Subway employee points out it is mine. I turn around and realize it is a police officer. He asks me about the parking job and after reviewing the pitiful parking job, I go outside to fix my error as the car that was parked in front of me had moved. Unknowingly the officer follows me outside and asks for my licensee. I reach into my pocket and realize my wallet is not in my pocket, but rather on the computer desk at home! I fumble around the car with no success, and the officer realizes this. I turn around dumb-founded.
The situation gets worse as the officer inquires about my alleged "bloodshot eyes" and asks if I have been drinking. It was 7 p.m. on a Wednesday night, so naturally my thought response was completely sarcastic, the sort of response you give your mother when she asks a question you already answered. I put my facetious reply aside, and respectfully answered no. I guess the honor system no longer has any value, as he proceeded to give me a Field Sobriety Test! Not only was I thoroughly embarrased, but I also became the spectacle of public ridicule after the Subway employee (the same one who turned me in, mind you) watched me intently with her face glued to the windowsill and began reporting the events play by play to my sister, her friend, and the other Subway employees and patrons! After the officer gives me two tests his satisfaction was achieved, and he lets me get my sandwhich. I proceed to the house to eat my Subway sandwhich in peace, with the event behind me.
Moral:
That special parking spot you want might not always be available. Sometimes you have to park in a boring spot.
posted by Chappy @ 9:35 AM
2 Comments:
At 11:41 AM,
Amy said…
ha ha ha, that's awesome ben. Kind of like the time I got pulled over by a cop on a bike and he thought Levi's trombone mouthpiece was part of a bong. I didn't have my license on me either, but before he could ask me, I shoved my previous fixit ticket in his face and he let me go, forgetting to ask for anything!!! I'm sure i'll hear this story from hannah as well. Thanks for the laugh!
At 1:24 AM,
Anonymous said…
That was an exilerating story. I will forever be reminded of your conquest to Subway.
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