Cops and Stops Part 2

It was hot. The air conditioner in my 1975 VolksWagen Dasher wasn’t working. Headed back to NYC from a weekend on the Jersey shore, we had been sitting and sweltering in bumper to bumper traffic for a couple of hours. Between the heat and my boredom, I was giddy. I took Cindy's lipstick and drew big round circles on my cheeks. She was barely amused. I kicked off my shoes and hung one leg out the window. In a joking tone, I suggested that we pass time by pulling off the road and having some “fun.” I was too embarrassed to make the proposal sound serious, but quietly hoped that she might get my meaning and give me some kind of signal.

Cindy just stared out the window.

There was a monster-sized truck in front of us. My eyes fixed on the "Airborne" sticker attached to the rear bumper. Traffic crawled. I started telling stories, “When I was in the Air Force, I jumped out of an airplane. They invited me to try out for the parachuting team. There's a brotherhood among those of us who went to jump school ... A chemistry between crazy people who jump out of perfectly good airplanes ... I have `blood' wings you know, yeah, my best friend shoved the pins right into my chest ... Did I ever tell you about the time I had a total malfunction?"

Cindy just stared out the window.

Failing to engage Cindy, I decided to "bond" with my "Paratrooper" brother. I stuck my head out the window and yelled to the truck in front of me "Whoa! Arooooga! Yo! Airborne! Good to the last drop! Heyooo!"

Cindy turned to me and said, "stop that, you're going to annoy him."

"Cindy, this is a guy thing. He'll understand. It'll be cool. Watch."

I yelled a little louder and started honking my horn. The guy in the truck looked at me through his rear view mirror and flipped me the bird.

Cindy said "You see, now stop it, you’re annoying him."

I persisted. "Cindy, you don't understand. He just doesn't realize that we're both jumpers." I yelled out the window "Hey, soopa-doopa-para-troopa .... When in doubt, rip it out! The only things that fall from the sky are birdshit and fools! Blue sky, black death! Airborne! Yeeehaa!"

The man in the pickup now turned all the way around to get a good look at me. He began to make violent motions with his hands. He pointed at me and flipped me off again. I was beginning to get pissed. "What's wrong with THAT guy?"

About a hundred yards up the road, a New Jersey state police car was parked at the side of the road. Inside, a state trooper watched traffic crawl by. As we approached, the truck hastily pulled onto the shoulder and sped over to the police car. The driver jumped out, yelled to the trooper, waved his arms and started pointing to my car. The trooper stepped out of the car and flagged me down.

I pulled over and got out of the car.

Cindy gasped "Kirk, your shoes."

It’s supposed to be a crime to drive without shoes on in New Jersey. Maybe its not a full-blown crime, lik they don’t throw you in jail or anything, but it’s still against the law. I didn’t really know that for a fact. But Cindy told me so and she was usually right about stuff like that.

If you think about it, it makes some sense. Suppose you're wearing shoes while you're driving and your brakes give out. You can open the driver's door and slow the car down by dragging your foot. You can't do that when you're barefoot 'cause you'd get blisters on your feet. It’s too late for me to get back in the car to put on my shoes. That would be too obvious.

I'm beginning to get a little nervous and start wondering about what the penalty is for driving without shoes when it suddenly occurs to me that I still have big red lipstick circles drawn on my cheeks. This can’t be good. I quickly turn my face towards the ground, hoping that the trooper didn't notice my face. But now I think that I'm looking kinda stupid because its like I'm hanging my head in shame. And by looking down I've got to be calling attention to my feet. I get a great idea, feigning a sneeze I try to rub the lipstick off my cheeks with one swift swipe of my hand.

My head still hanging down, I try to use my eyes to see what's going on ahead of me. The driver of the truck is waving his arms and yelling. The trooper is just staring at me. His arms are crossed.

I approach the trooper and look up. There he was, campaign hat, reflector sunglasses, mustache. There was attitude written all over him.

I took the offensive. “Officer this is all a big mistake, I saw this gentleman had an Airborne sticker on his car and I was in the Air Force – I have a lot of military spirit – and I was just tryin’ to say hi like we used to do in the service and I think he thought that I was insulting him but that wasn’t at all what I intended to do and I’m so sorry for any inconvenience or inappropriate suggestion because I have nothing but admiration for my brothers….”

The officer cut in, "Boy, ya'll were obstruct-tin the road way and distrat-tin the otha dryvas. We don’t hardly put up withat sorta thang. Now why don’t you just git yerself home."

Disapppointed that the trooper wasn’t willing to say that this whole situation was the OTHER GUY’S FAULT (amazing how you can rationalize), I thought to myself, "Schmuck, you're in New Jersey, talk like it...."