Precious Moments #1

Bad Firework Etiquette

In October of 2008, Jenny and I had a Halloween Party at our apartment in New Britain. I decided that an excellent way for me to enjoy myself at this party was to dress up as one of my favorite writers, Hunter S. Thompson, and really dive in and explore the character.

In the weeks leading up to the party I spent a lot of time looking for bits of the costume - I already had the yellow-tinted shooting glasses, and I eventually found an appropriate hunting coat, a great Hawaiian shirt, a decent white Gilligan hat and a cigarette holder.

As the party got under way and I began to really work myself into character, I drank. Copious amounts of Chivas Regal and cheap beer were just as much a part of the costume as the proper shirt, cigarette holder, etc... inebriation was definitely a key part of the character, as were bad decisions.

Feeling that I had mastered the mannerisms and speech patterns of HST, I began to work on developing the behavior. This coalesced into one beautiful moment when, after having already shown off my character to everyone, boredom forced my hand - I needed to shake things up a bit and make a memory.

Earlier, Jenny had preemptively hid my bullhorn, so I instead prepared for the party by stuffing my pockets with fireworks. Forgoing the real South Carolina fireworks, I pulled out a lousy, bullshit Connecticut firework - a strobe. For being a lousy bullshit Connecticut firework, the strobe really has it's place in distracting people and livening things up - it's the premiere lousy bullshit Connecticut firework.

I went into the kitchen looking for something reasonable to put it on and found someone else's plate. Perfect. I set the strobe up in the kitchen and lit it - the loud sizzling noise and bright flashing lights were of some surprise to the people who were in the room at the time, but none were so surprised as Jenny, who was in the living room - she was quite livid.

From the kitchen I could hear her violent, profane reaction to this, so I quickly escaped out the back of the kitchen to the bedroom. At this point I should note that in the old New Britain three family walk-up that we lived in, like so many of it's kind, the interior was set up in a circuit - so, although the kitchen and living room were directly connected, I could also walk down a hallway and through the bedroom to get to the living room. When Jenny entered the kitchen, bloodthirsty, I was making my way through the living room and out the front door.

I waited out on the front porch with a few smokers, but the sense of quiet was unnerving - I had expected her to immediately find and chastise me for my behavior or something. But there was nothing. So I timidly went back inside to investigate. I was just in time to see Jenny walking purposefully toward the back of the apartment with my whole drawer of fireworks in hand, which were clearly headed to the garbage can.

I quickly rushed to the rescue of my beloved fireworks. For her to get to the garbage can, she would have to go onto the back porch, walk down half a flight of stairs (we lived on the first floor) and round the corner - the cans were just below our back porch. Time was of the essence.

Between the time that she was on the stairs and when she was around the back of the building - five seconds tops - I had run through the kitchen and out the back door, leapt over the railing and onto one of the garbage cans to secure the lid and prevent Jenny from throwing my fireworks away. But, the cans had wheels on the back, and they quickly slid out from under me. I rode those cans to the ground, managing to keep one hand on the railing, so that when Jenny rounded the corner, there I was, standing amidst three huge, fallen garbage cans - having appeared, destructively, from out of nowhere, looking rather confused and disoriented.

Frustrated, she made my friend Brian take the whole drawer home with him. For no less than six months, we were missing a drawer from that yellow filing cabinet.

So You've Just Been Pulled Over

"Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. A normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow..." - Hunter S. Thompson

Being pulled over is a menacing experience - just the very nature of it... an authority figure sneaks up behind and stays there, then you get in trouble. A lot of the time it will cost money, and god forbid you are in actually in the act of a misdemeanor, or worse, a felony. You're left badly shaken and filled with unnatural remorse. That's why I've decided to put together this little guide to being pulled over - to be prepared is to be fore-armed. Feel free to print out a copy of this and keep it in your glove box.

So you've been pulled over...
Take a deep contemplative breath. It is of the utmost importance that you realize that you are in control of the situation. Act accordingly.

A traffic cop is a lot like a...
Tyrannosaurus Rex - if you'll remember from the movie Jurassic Park, their eyesight is based on motion. You'll want to make a lot of sudden movements to draw him in. If you don't do this, you may have to wait quite a while for the cop to confront you. You've probably taken this time to reach into your glove box and retrieve this handy advice sheet. While you're in there, get your insurance and registration information - you will need these to bribe the cop.

Occasionally, a cop will take minutes to get out of his car to greet you. During this time he is likely finishing a hot cup of cocoa. To get his attention and move the process along, try leaving your car in drive and release the brake. The slow, forward motion of your car will illicit urgency in the cop, and he will surely step out of his car to greet you, speeding up the process.

When the cop gets to your window...
Be coy. You'll want to leave your window up and ignore him during this first interaction. Wait until he knocks on your window - making him work for it will serve to excite him and get him ready for your next move.

Roll down the window and immediately start asking questions. Avoid topics like the reason he's pulling you over, you'll get there soon enough. Ask him deep, probing personal questions like: Are you married? How was your relationship with your father? What is your political affiliation? What is your name and ID number?

At this point the cop will ask you one of two questions...
Remember, you can leave at any point in this process.

Question 1: Do you know why I pulled you over?
If you know the answer and it was a minor traffic violation such as running a stop sign or speeding, say "Yes". Tell him the violation, then giggle. If you know the answer and it was a major violation or a hit and run, exit the car as quickly as you can - you'll want to be on your feet. If you don't know the answer, say "No... I suppose you were just bored and lonely. You look like you could use a hot meal. Let's go get you something to eat."

Question 2: Have you been drinking tonight, sir?
Regardless of whether you've been drinking at all, say "Yes. I had a few back there." Point your thumb behind you, suggesting that that's all behind you. At this point, the cop may perform a field sobriety test. You will need a pen for the written portion, so quickly grab one from your glove box before exiting the vehicle. It is important that you do some stretches before you take the test - to get the blood flowing.

Assuming you've passed the sobriety test...
At this point he's asked you to wait in your car while he writes you a warning, ticket or summons. The truth is, he doesn't want to do the paperwork as much as you don't want to get the ticket. Do the cop a favor and scram. If you get away, he can't issue the ticket - this is a win-win!

Following this simple advice could save you from a costly ticket. For an advanced experience, spend some time calling children and dogs sir. Using this tone and calling the cop sir may help expedite this process.