Because I'm a Criminal...or nah

So last Thursday night, I was driving down to Myrtle Beach. The drive is only about two hours and I left right at 11 p.m, hoping to arrive by midnight. Things were going swimmingly until I got right inside the South Carolina border where I was promptly greeted by a DUI traffic stop. Now keep in mind, this was a back country state highway with no bars in a 20 mile radius, but whatever. What transpired next sums up law enforcement in the deep south.

There were about four cars and seven state troopers. I pulled up and handed the state trooper my license, which is expired. 

Me: I know my license is expired, sir. I’m actively working on getting a new one, but I had to clear up a ticket in another state.

Him (in THE thickest southern accent ever): Registration?

I handed it over.

Him: Who is Tom?

Me: That’s my dad. We have the same last name.

Him: Uh-huh, well Ima have to run this here through that there system in my car over thur, so pull over into the grass.

I did as I was told, praying that if they called my dad, he’d answer. Apparently they realized that I had indeed not stolen the fine automobile which I was driving and the fat Barney Fife and his two friends ambled over.

Cop 1: So where are you headed dressed up all purty like that?

Me: Myrtle Beach, sir.

Cop 1: And what are you going to do there?

This is where it was tricky. He knew damn right well the only reason I, or anybody goes to Myrtle Beach: to drink copious amounts of alcohol and make bad life decisions. What did he think I was going to do? Bird watch?

Me: Um, go to the ocean, lay out. Maybe play a little golf…

Cop 2 (approaching the window and pulling his pants up over his ample midsection): Have you been drinking?

Me: No, sir.

Cop 2: Do you drink?

What the hell?

Me: Yes, sir.

Cop 3: Is there any alcohol in the car?

Me: Yes, there are two sealed bottles from the liquor store, sir. They are in my bag in the back. (Not a crime)

Cop 1: No need to call me sir. How old are you?

Really, jackass? You’re holding my license! Do the math!

Instead, figuring this was the easiest sobriety test in the world, I replied with my age.

Cop 1: Well I’m 34.

Cop 2: I’m 29.

Cop 3: I’m 33.

WTF? Was this an eHarmony date or a traffic stop?

I didn’t even know what to say, so I nodded.

Cop 3: You like seafood?

Me: No, I’m allergic.

Cop 2: Shame, there’s some great seafood places there.

Me: Well, my friends like it, so I’m sure we’ll go.

By this point, I noticed the other half of the cops had another car pulled over on the opposite side of the road and other cars were just flying by. I figured if they had suspected that I was drunk, they would have breathalyzed me by now. I figured I was going to get a ticket for driving with an expired license, so I asked.

Me: So what’s the penalty for driving on an expired license?

Cop 1 (handing me back my license): No penalty, just making conversation.

At this point, I wasn’t sure what to say. Can I go now? and Are we done here? came to mind, but I didn’t want to push my luck.

I knew I had to get out of this somehow, though.

Cop 1: Do you surf?

Me: No, I tried it once and too much water went up my nose. 

Just then, a thought came to mind.

Me: But, my girlfriend does! She’s heading down from Raleigh and said she was about 45 minutes behind me. She has a black SUV with a surf rack on top. You’ll probably see her. She’s heading this route. She has long blonde hair. She’s an amazing surfer.

Their ears perked up at this, and one of them took his time double checking to see I was buckled up..and that the strap was fastened securely across my chest…or at least that’s what he said….

With that, they let me depart and got back to the business of enforcing law and order and looking for drunk drivers…or an imaginary hot blonde surfing goddess…