This was around 1992, I was 17 or so. I had a bitchin' '77 Camaro. The body was full of cracked bondo, but it had a built 350 and would fly. My best friend, Billy, was driving that night, and he normally drove a Chevy Citation. With him driving we were enjoying the visceral feeling of getting thrown back in your seat and the aural sensation of an American V8 backed by glass packs. So the cops pulling us over eventually was all but a given. In the back seat was some girl, and for the life of me I can't recall who. Also in the back was a bottle of some sort of awful schnapps like Tequila Rose. As the cop was approaching the car random girl tries to hide the bottle under the one of the Mexican rugs that I used for floor mats.
As he's talking to us he asks the girl what's on the floor. She says a rug. What's under the rug asks he. Nothing she says. Lift it up he says. She grabs the rug and the neck of the bottle at the same time. She's clever, but no street corner magician and nobody is fooled. As he takes the bottle he notes how none of us are remotely old enough to have alcohol, let alone in a car. Then he asks what we think should happen next. I say, and this is a direct quote, "You could just take the bottle and send us on our merry way." He says he can't take the bottle but he then does proceed to pour it out then and there. Billy is nearly beside himself because procuring that bottle was feat that took several hours to accomplish. He then let us all go, with a warning to be good.
I've had interactions with on duty officers entirely more often than I hope my boys ever do. I've found that they're just people. You treat them with dignity and respect, they'll treat you well and fair in return has been my experience. I've been let off with a warning probably more times than is fair.
