As If I Were a Common Criminal
Tonight I drove him at 1:00 am. The streets were clean from the earlier rain, but drivers still used caution in their travels. Too much caution; the result of living in a place where rain is front-page news, and umbrellas sheild faces from the sun. I sped most of the way home. James may think it's a desire to drive fast that forces me to speed; however I can't recall tonight wanting to go as fast as I did. My feet just touch pedals and the car moves itself forward. Sometimes it goes fast. Not much I can do about that.
I expected what I found; a street full of cars without a spot to park for the night. My car is small; living in a city for years teaches you that larger cars are not always in charge, especially when it comes to parallel parking. The idea that I had to park my car nose-to-end with other cars was so ingrained into my psyche that I focused only on that when practicing for my driving test. The result was a perfect parallel park score. I failed the parking space test. Adding the word "parking" to parallel and I'm fine; tell me to park between two parallel lines and I will find a way to stump myself. As such, I found it easier to park a small car, and so I've always had something that was simple to fit pretty much anywhere.... between lines or cramped curbside spaces.
No parking spaces on the streets meant I would make a brief cruise down the alley behind the complex. The alley is dark, but wide, and is usually filled with both questionable silence and an eerie caucaphony of feral cats mating behind a dumpster. I saw him first, I think, rolling slowly in neutral with his lights off. The car may be black but the cops keep them clean, and so the moon reflected on the hood. For a minute we were facing down each other, he at one end of the alley, and I at the other. I continued slowly, growing increasingly aware that my very presence at that time in that place marked me as suspicious.
None of the spaces behind my complex was free, as if I would be lucky enough that they were. I contemplated parking behind a friendly neighbor, and waking up early enough to move my car back to the street, but I quickly gave up this notion as I didn't trust my ability to wake up that early on a Saturday morning. Quickly glancing in the rear-view mirror, I also realized I couldn't pull into their space, because I had an audience. His lights were still out, but he knew he was obvious to me now, and his invisible judgement of me was unsettling.
Not wanting to arouse any more suspicion than I needed to, I remembered passing an open space up the street a bit from my complex. It would be a bit of a walk back to the apartment, but since I was being followed anyway I felt I might as well take advantage of my police escort. As I pulled out onto the street, the headlights of the Impala behind me clicked on, illuminating my dashboard and framing my hair in a halogen halo. I drove slowly up the street. Come on...come on, I know I saw you, I muttered pointlessly to the curb. My anxiety was manifesting itself physically, and I felt my back muscles tighten. My jaw locked, and my left hand loosely roped the wheel while my right hand dug its fingernails into the leather on the gearshift. Would he flash his red lights? Why not just pull me over already, let me explain myself, let me unburden this guilt that isn't even mine to own? I haven't done anything wrong! Shouldn't I be given the benefit of the doubt?
All kinds of irrational thoughts plagued my head, but the one that was the most prevalent but horrifying was the one that was the most truthful: he just had to see my face. Young, white, female, innocent...a twentysomething caucasian girl alone at 1:30 am on a Friday night, wearing a J. Crew sweater and toting a sling bag, driving a Hyundai with a "Rutgers Alumni" license plate frame. I'd never even had a detention in high school. You can tell this just by looking at me, and that's all he had to do. He did. And he drove away.
I walked two blocks home, alone on the dark street. My keys jingled in my sweater pocked until they unlocked my door, and I closed it behind me with a click.
I expected what I found; a street full of cars without a spot to park for the night. My car is small; living in a city for years teaches you that larger cars are not always in charge, especially when it comes to parallel parking. The idea that I had to park my car nose-to-end with other cars was so ingrained into my psyche that I focused only on that when practicing for my driving test. The result was a perfect parallel park score. I failed the parking space test. Adding the word "parking" to parallel and I'm fine; tell me to park between two parallel lines and I will find a way to stump myself. As such, I found it easier to park a small car, and so I've always had something that was simple to fit pretty much anywhere.... between lines or cramped curbside spaces.
No parking spaces on the streets meant I would make a brief cruise down the alley behind the complex. The alley is dark, but wide, and is usually filled with both questionable silence and an eerie caucaphony of feral cats mating behind a dumpster. I saw him first, I think, rolling slowly in neutral with his lights off. The car may be black but the cops keep them clean, and so the moon reflected on the hood. For a minute we were facing down each other, he at one end of the alley, and I at the other. I continued slowly, growing increasingly aware that my very presence at that time in that place marked me as suspicious.
None of the spaces behind my complex was free, as if I would be lucky enough that they were. I contemplated parking behind a friendly neighbor, and waking up early enough to move my car back to the street, but I quickly gave up this notion as I didn't trust my ability to wake up that early on a Saturday morning. Quickly glancing in the rear-view mirror, I also realized I couldn't pull into their space, because I had an audience. His lights were still out, but he knew he was obvious to me now, and his invisible judgement of me was unsettling.
Not wanting to arouse any more suspicion than I needed to, I remembered passing an open space up the street a bit from my complex. It would be a bit of a walk back to the apartment, but since I was being followed anyway I felt I might as well take advantage of my police escort. As I pulled out onto the street, the headlights of the Impala behind me clicked on, illuminating my dashboard and framing my hair in a halogen halo. I drove slowly up the street. Come on...come on, I know I saw you, I muttered pointlessly to the curb. My anxiety was manifesting itself physically, and I felt my back muscles tighten. My jaw locked, and my left hand loosely roped the wheel while my right hand dug its fingernails into the leather on the gearshift. Would he flash his red lights? Why not just pull me over already, let me explain myself, let me unburden this guilt that isn't even mine to own? I haven't done anything wrong! Shouldn't I be given the benefit of the doubt?
All kinds of irrational thoughts plagued my head, but the one that was the most prevalent but horrifying was the one that was the most truthful: he just had to see my face. Young, white, female, innocent...a twentysomething caucasian girl alone at 1:30 am on a Friday night, wearing a J. Crew sweater and toting a sling bag, driving a Hyundai with a "Rutgers Alumni" license plate frame. I'd never even had a detention in high school. You can tell this just by looking at me, and that's all he had to do. He did. And he drove away.
I walked two blocks home, alone on the dark street. My keys jingled in my sweater pocked until they unlocked my door, and I closed it behind me with a click.
posted by The Semi-Pro Chef at Saturday, February 18, 2006
3 Comments:
Such a hard core criminal element – you dastardly parker! Though isn’t it odd to be doing naught but the right thing and still live under the scrutiny of the law? And shouldn’t you think that he’d a put as much care into your getting home safely as to watching you cruise the alleyways? Hmmmmm, LA, well, sometimes I do miss the helicopters and all the search lights in my windows, but I hardly miss the Gestapo tactics, the unmarked cars and the guilty until proven innocent attitude that seems to prevail…
I know the feeling a bit. Once, when I passed a cop car parked on the side of an off-ramp, it hit its lights. I got a sick feeling in my stomach and pulled over, only to watch it go by. Turns out it was responding to a call just as I happened to go by.
Another time I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of my apartment complex when a cop tapped on my window. When he asked if there was a problem, I told him I was finishing listening to the song on the radio, after which he walked away.
5 years ago I was returning from a trip to San Francisco and speeding (about 90mph) in broad daylight and a cop came behind me and flashed me to the side. Scared me half to death I pulled to the next lane only to realize he was going after the tail gater in front of me.
Then just this past Thanksgiving, I was returning, again, from San Francisco, this time at around 2am in the morning and, again, speeding sleepily (at about 90 mph) and I noticed a pair of head lights approaching quickly so I changed lanes to let it pass. The car didn't pass for a while which I found strange so I slowed a little bit. I saw a red flash and thought it was the brake lights (which didn't make sense) or the turn signals (which also didn't make sense) and so I looked over and a cop made eye contact with me and sped on.
I was wide awake after that one. We saw him pull a car over about 10 minutes later. Our hypothesi were either he was responding to a call, or he was satisfied that I was aware and awake (which I was not) since I changed lanes for him.
As if I were a reckless driver. Laughable.
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