It was going to happen at some point.
First of all, it's been awhile since I "spoke" to a police officer. I've cut down on my speeding in my old age, but I knew in the back of my mind I'd see them in that capacity again.
Also, it was inevitable that I get caught idling at the airport. I don't know how it's done anywhere else, but at MSP, people park their cars on the curb of the terminal all the time. It was a time-honored tradition that even 9/11 hasn't really stopped, even though we're now aware we're kind of breaking the law then.
We have two terminals here. They used to be called Humphrey and Lindbergh; now they're Terminal 1 and Terminal 2. They changed that because the names confused too many people. I think the numbers are more confusing. It hasn't stopped people from parking on the curb regardless of the names of the terminals because it's so convenient to pick up your pick-ups that way. It's worth getting caught rather than being proper about it an having a tired passenger walk a mile to a parking ramp with their luggage in tow.
It's kind of different with the much smaller Terminal 2; it's less crowded and more intimate, so you don't have the crowd to deal with. I've actually parked my car there for 20 minutes without a soul bothering me. However, I always feel that it gives any police in the area less ground to cover and more time to give any offender a ticket. It cuts both ways, but again, because it's so danged easy, I always park on the curb.
Well, last night I got caught. I thought I was going to be late, actually, because I had to gas up my parents' minivan. But Father called me about three minutes before I got to the airport, which I reached a bit past 11, which was when the flight was supposed to land. Because I thought everything was going to be OK, and because I thought my parents would be coming down the escalator at any point, I parked my car alongside the curb, went into the airport, and stood around, waiting for them.
And I waited for a long time. There were people coming down, possibly for another flight that came in at around the same time. But I didn't expect to wait for about 15 minutes. I looked outside ... and that's when I saw the flashing lights of a cop car. Shit!
I run outside. There was no mistake; the cop was outside looking at my car. Now, I have a huge problem dealing with authority, especially policemen. I remember a couple times being pulled over for speeding and the cops being assholes pulling a power trip on me. I will never forget how small and helpless they made me. Whatever I said, I learned that it wasn't any use. So to me, once I saw the cop looking at my car, and once he asked me for my license, I thought that was it: I'm getting a ticket for leaving my car on the curb. I got caught.
So my reaction, one borne of frustration and, I'll admit, a little immaturity, I throw my car keys on the ground. I'll be honest: If he's going to give me a ticket, why do I care about being civil? It didn't help when the other cops humiliated me while giving me speeding tickets.
"You don't have to throw your keys on the ground," the cop said.
Oh-oh. Could he give me a ticket for unsportsmanlike conduct, or some non-sports equivalent of that? "Frustration. I'm having a bad day," I blurted out in "defense."
"Pick up your keys. Pick up your keys," he repeated, calmly, after I gave him my license. In retrospect, he could've been a dick about it, but he didn't. Instead, after he cleared me, he needed to know about the car: "Now, show me the insurance for the car and I'll let you go."
OK. Now, where do my parents put the insurance? I opened up the passenger-side door and start looking everywhere. It wasn't in the glove compartment -- shit. Could it be hidden somewhere in the mirrors? Yes -- but there are, like, three of them, and I'll be damned, they're all expired. The latest one expired on the 28th.
I kid you not, I was there for five minutes looking for an up-to-date insurance card. I don't know how it looked to the other people trying to leave the terminal; hopefully they just swore at me under their breath and totally forgot about me once they took off. Meanwhile, I was thinking about my parents finally coming out and looking at this cop checking out their car. When were they coming, anyway?
Thankfully, after I gave up and decided to come out of the car, my parents were standing right there. Is everything OK, they basically said, to which I and the cop said we need to find the insurance. I didn't know the cop would take the one that expired on the 28th; he just had to go into his cop car and have it checked out. Parents were worried I got a ticket, and why I left the car turned off for so long. Beyong blurting out, "I don't know, why did you call me 15 minutes before actually coming out?" I didn't want to say anything that'll get me trouble with the policeman.
He got out of the car, tossed the insurance card Father's way, said, "OK," then went inside, as if he got a call to investigate something at the baggage carousel he was walking towards.
"That's it?" Father said.
"Yep," the cop replied, without breaking stride on his way inside, barely making eye contact.
And off we went, after waiting a bit for the cars to leave and open a path out. In the past, I could've gone on about it, thereby starting a blame game I subconsciously wanted, but I didn't. I hope that's a good thing.
Father did ask what happened before they got there. After I told him, he said that the cop was "crazy." Well, he wasn't. I had no ill intentions, of course, but to the policeman, he saw a car that was completely stopped and had no driver in or around it. He could've thought it was left there with bombs stored inside, kind of like Times Square.
He did the right thing, and I would've done exactly the same thing. Now, I still don't like the interaction with the cop, but he wouldn't have been doing his job if he didn't ask me for license and registration, and I would've bitched if I heard he didn't do to somebody else what he did to me last night.
I'm just glad I didn't get a ticket. I hope this doesn't happen the next time I park next to the curb at the airport.
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