An Officer stops a driver for running a red light. The guy is a real jerk and comes running back to the officer demanding to know why he is being harassed by the Gestapo! So the officer calmly tells him of the red light violation. The “Motorist” instantly goes on a tirade, questioning the officer’s ancestry, sexual orientation, etc., in rather explicit terms.
The tirade goes on without the officer saying anything.
When he gets done with writing the ticket he puts an “AH” in the lower right corner of the narrative portion of the ticket. He then hands it to the “Violator” for his signature. The guy signs the ticket angrily, and when presented with his copy points to the “AH” and demands to know what it stands for.
The Officer says, “That’s so when we go to court, I’ll remember that you’re an Asshole!”
Two months later they’re in court. The “Violator” has such a bad driving record he is about to lose his license and has hired a lawyer to represent him. On the stand the officer testifies to seeing the man run the red light. Under cross examination the defense attorney asks; “Officer is this a reasonable facsimile of the ticket you issued my client?”
Officer responds, “Yes sir, that is the defendants copy, his signature and mine, same number at the top.
Lawyer: “Officer, is there any particular marking or notation on this ticket you don’t normally make?”
Officer: “Yes sir, in the lower right corner of the narrative there is an “AH,” underlined.”
Lawyer: “What does the “AH” stand for, officer?”
Officer: “Aggressive and Hostile Sir.”
Lawyer: “Aggressive and Hostile?”
Officer: “Yes Sir?
Lawyer: “Officer, Are you sure it doesn’t stand for Asshole?”
Officer: “Well Sir, You know your client better than I do!”
Subsequently, I received the following email from Alison:
Now, that's funny!!!
Also because, right after we moved here, when I had no idea how to find my way around, I was on El Camino in Menlo Park and two cars in front of me did U-turns. So I did too, not seeing any sign not to and that was the direction I wanted to be going in.
All three of us got pulled over.
I asked the cop where the sign was, explaining I'd just moved here. I apologized; I didn't want to make that mistake again. Oh! Oh okay, we didn't have the signs over there in New Hampshire, I didn't think to look there, thank you!
Not wanting my insurance to go up, I went to traffic court. I put on a nice dress, I looked as pregnant as I could that early on (it was a bit of a stretch, although I *was* pregnant), and I waited and waited and waited: because the case in front of me was the most obnoxious person you could have imagined. He had law books with him, he was throwing out accusations about the cops and citing clauses in the Constitution I'm not sure existed, and this case and that, and he rambled on and on for close to an hour. Far as I could make out, none of it made sense and the guy was just nuts.
The funny thing about it was how many cops were in that room, eyes locked on him, arms folded tightly, faces grim. The judge finally had had enough--it was just a stupid traffic ticket--and got rid of his (the judge's) problem by telling him he was found not guilty, dismissed.
And those cops, angry, got up en masse and left right behind him, keeping an eye on him, and I wondered what HIS record must be like!
So. Sweet little me trying to look like a nice person. The judge calls out my name. I stand up; he asks if the cop who wrote my citation is there. Nope? Alright. And he gives me the biggest grin and dismisses me with a wave.
I always wondered about that guy, but he seems to have gotten me off a ticket.
And that reminded me of a time many years ago when I deserved a ticket, but didn't get one. I was going to San Francisco City College, and I had an 8 a.m. class. Following that I hopped in my car, and headed downtown to work. The quickest route was to go up the hill toward Twin Peaks, and then around and down the hill to downtown. There was a traffic light at the intersection where I turned to head down, and this day there were about 6 cars waiting for the light to change. I was one of the first, and when the light turned green, I took off and headed down the curvy road. About two thirds of the way down, a motorcycle cop pulled me over. Now see if you can picture the timing of the following. I pulled over and stopped. The cop pulled in behind me, and walked forward to the driver side window. "Let me see your license," he said. So I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet to get to my license. Then the rest of the cars that had been at the light with me started to drive by. That's to give you an idea how fast I'd been going.
Then Providence intervened. One of the passing cars clipped the cop's motorcycle. He looked back with a look of disgust, turned to me, and said "Get outta here." Yes, Sir.