Tuesday, January 08, 2008
aunty peas, the pipe blower
'Twas almost the night before Christmas. Give or take. The protagonist is seen making her way to her car, after klapping a tequila for the road. She'd been wining (vodka and sodaring) and dining with her friends at a restaurant.
Nearly home. Turn abruptly left into...a massive road block. I'm not hammered; but I'm not a contestant in Who Wants To Be A Practicing Nun either.
They are stopping every single car, including mine.
Cop: Shining torch into my face. (How's that eczema at close range, big guy?) “Have you been drinking?”
Peas: “I've had two drinks. In four hours.” (Not completely a blatant lie. Just a very obscure form of the truth.)
Cop: “License please. And then I'm going to breathalise you.”
Peas: (Now shaking uncontrollably as I do when I'm mortally and crazily terrified) “Sorry I'm shaking so much Mr Officer.. (I said that. “Mr Officer.” What am I, in Beverly Hills Cop?) “...I'm just scared because I've never done that before. You know, blown on a policeman's pipe.”
I said that too. Blown on a policeman's pipe. I'd, in some frame of context, just informed him, I wasn't in no uncertain terms, going to blow the bejesus out of him. Great start.
Mr Officer: “Do you know what the limit is? It's 0.5. Tembo, wena! uBreathaliser uMachine.
If you're over that limit, you will be put in the back of that van, you will then go to jail until next Thursday, then we will take your blood; you will go to court and you will be charged.”
The shaking has just been given an oral performance enhancer. I can barely breathe.
Peas: (Squeaks). “OK, you know I live about 150 metres from here.”
Mr Officer: “Breathe into this.”
Aunty Peas blows it. And for the 0.2 seconds it takes to register the results, she thinks, Jail until Thursday. Maybe I'll survive, I mean, I don't need to be in the office, so I don't need to explain my whereabouts to my boss...
Mr Officer: (Hides the results. Either way it can't be under. It can't be way over either. I mean I just sobered up completely in the last 5 seconds of pure torture.)
Peas: Jesus fuck.
Mr Officer: “Your car license disc has expired.”
Mr Officer: "You want me to charge you for drunken driving or for an expired license disc?"
Peas: Um...if we have to choose, can we do the car license disc?
Mr Officer: "That disc expired nine days ago."
Peas: "Dude. I mean Mr Officer. I haven't had a chance to do my Christmas shopping yet. I haven't even had a chance to basically shave my legs for three days and I know it's the last thing you want to hear, but please don't fine me. I have really really good intentions to go to the traffic department really really soon and get it done and I know you just doing your job, but please don't fine me....please?"
(So excited I'm wearing a low slung top with a push-up bra that sort-of half spills my tiny noombies out of my shirt.)
Mr Officer: "But my colleagues will see me let you off."
Peas: "You're so handsome."
Mr Officer: "Eish what?"
Peas: "Sorry, sorry. I just really think I will sort it out, I promise."
Mr Officer: "OK you can go."
Peas: "Beg pardon?...oh fuck that's fantastic thanks so much bye."
That's still not the reason why I'm not drinking. As terrifying as it was. And it could've been a whole lot worse. But it's not the reason. Although, now I will voluntarily stop at road blocks and blow their pipes just to show 'em.