How Does One Get Pulled Over When They're Already Pulled Over?
Last night, after attending Revolutions opening festivities, my friend Dominick drove Mark and I home. Upon dropping us off, he pulled half-way into street parking, on the wrong side of the street, but steps from our door. We sat there chatting a bit too long, and just as we were about to call it a night, lights from a cop car began flashing behind us. Two officers emerged and approached the car, shining flashlights on us, and taking license, registration and insurance. We sat there waiting uncomfortably, glaring blue and red lights likely disturbing the neighbors, Nick Drake playing softly on the stereo, some ridiculous ticket or arrest not out of the realm of possibility.
When the officer returned he was polite, and told our driver to pull into a regular parking spot next time. My theory about why this happened lies in the fact that I--along with many of my neighbors--regularly report prostitute/john activity in the neighborhood, and lately I've noticed a larger police presence. I don't enjoy narcing these people out, but at the same time, walking around I don't want to be mad-dogged by ladies of the night, or solicited by dirty old men. Thanks to this McGruff-like benevolence, last night's little run-in with the law was likely the double-edged sword in action. And it was a really stupid-looking sword.