But Officer… I didn’t do nothing… Yeah Right.

It’s a quiet Monday evening. Britni and I are at home. It’s roughly 10:00pm and Britni is way hungry for some Jack In The Box. We decide to quickly swing by and get some grub to go. I, outfitted in my Polo pajamas and t-shirt, Britni powered up in (my) Stanford sweatshirt and (extremely short) Stone Cold skirt. We hit the Highlander and start our drive down to Jack in the Box.

Roughly a mile till our safe haven, Britni notices a cop car and nudges me to slow down. I slow down… the cop car in front also slows down. It’s a 55mph zone and we’re both going 40mph. I think this looks bad and makes us look suspicious. So, I speed up to the speed limit. The cop car floats behind me. I get exceptionally nervous. I instantly realize I don’t have my license on me and am now simply praying that he doesn’t even pull me over for a ’standard checkup’ … whatever those mean anyhow.

We stop at a light. He’s still behind me. The two lanes next to us are completely open. Its not deadly apparent that either (a) he’s going to pull me over or (b) he’s just fucking with me. The light turns green and I get roughly 30 yards before the patriotic red white and blue lights go off and I hear that ever so haunting siren. At this point, I’m thinking “fuck my life”

He pulls up and gets out of the vehile. I roll down my window and we have the friendly chat. He tells me that he pulled me over because my one of my front headlights are burned out. I quickly inform him that the entire front of my car is missing and that it will be fixed as soon as the Holiday season is over. He nods but reminds me that it’s still against the law to drive with only one headlight. And then he begins the infamous routine… “License and Registration, please.” At this point, I reach for the glove compartment and well, there is no registration there. He then sighs and says “What about your license?” and I tell him “Um, office, I left my license in my peacoat at home.” So, here I am… without license nor registration. Definitely not a good way to start out the converstion. He nods and says, “Well, proof of insurance?” … I frantically search the car and just shake my head in dissapointment. So, I have no license, no registration and no car insurance. I am f.u.c.k.e.d. He asks where we are headed and I reply “jack in the box for some quick dinner”. He then says “How do you expect to pay for it if you forgot your wallet? You’re not going to make the lady pay, are you?” … I chuckle and Britni chimes in with wallet at hand, “I’m paying. I’m the bread winner!”

He continues to interrogate… “How old are you?” .. “20, Officer” … “Have you guys been drinking, tonight?” … “No, Officer” … He then asks for my name and date of birth and then heads back to the cop-mobile. I’m thinking this can’t look any worse.

He comes back and asks “Are you sure you have a license?” and I reply, “Yes, Officer. It was recently renewed too.” He ponders and then asks, “Could it be under a different name?”. It quickly occurs to me he’s trying to run a background on me and I tell him that my last name is compound, as in, it’s not just Navid Azimi, but legally, it’s Navid Azimi-Garakani. He takes his radio-thing and radios, “Gulf, Alpha, Romeo, Alpha, Kilo, Alpha, November, India.” He looks at me (and stares at Britni) and asks what school we go to. Britni realizing that he gawking her, takes advantage of the situation and starts answering the questions. “UCI, we both go to UCI”. The Officer asks what major she is… and she replies “Anthropology” … “And You?” … “Umm.. Information & Computer Science.” …. “What do you wanna do with that?” … “Um, Business Law School I believe.” … “And what about you?” … “I’d like to move out of America and go help people in South Africa.” … The Officer nods. He looks at me and says, I’m not going to give you a ticket for not having your license, I’m just going to make sure you really have one before I let you go. Immediately after he says that … the radio replies something inaudible or incomprehensible to me. He taps the car and says … “Alright, be safe.” I repeatedly thank him and we drive off. Scared and happy as shit.

So you see, having a hott (and clever) girlfriend who is wearing something skimpy (unintentionally) is often handy! Last and certainly not least — anything and everything bad I’ve said about the Irvine PD — I take it back! Haha. I love you, Sir. Where ever you may be… Police Discretion often times helps you out.

Adieu. Navid.