October 8th, 2008 by Manila Ryce
I hardly write about my daily life here, but I’d like to share something that happened last night as I was out for a midnight bike ride. By the way, night riding is quite enjoyable and I encourage everyone who doesn’t live in Torrance, CA to try it. Not only does the underfunded local roadway have more nooks and crannies than an English muffin, but the police are constantly on the prowl for murderous bike riding gang members, apparently.
As some of you may know from at least one previous post, I’ve developed a habit of getting stopped by the police about every other week while out on my bike. Unfortunately, this continued harassment is a quasi-curfew imposed on young males which I’ve grown used to.
So during the usual Q&A with the police, it finally hit me how scripted the whole interaction is. There are 5 questions they always ask me and they ALWAYS come along in the following order: What are you doing out? Where do you live? Ever been to prison? You on probation? And finally, Got any dope or weapons on you? Then they leave.
The last question is almost thrown in there for comic relief and the cops usually say it in an almost teasing manner. You can never really tell when a cop is joking, but since all the officers who’ve asked me that question actually wait for me to give a respectful response before they agree to leave me alone, I’m inclined to think that it’s at least half-serious. What are they thinking? “Well, I didn’t get him on the previous questions, but maybe I’ll get him on this one!” Who the hell answers, “Yes”?
It seems like the ultimate exercise in futility - like in the movies when all your bullets bounce off Superman, so in desperation you throw your gun at him (not that I’m comparing myself to Superman, but I have been known to change costumes in telephone booths). You’ve already given up and this is your last ditch effort before you say goodbye. You know it and I know it. No one would ever say yes. Let’s drop the pretense.
Still, there must be some percentage of people who do answer: “yes, I do indeed have weapons and drugs on me officer” or they’d stop asking everyone this absurd question. Right? Anyway, the whole scripted affair and pointless line of questioning, where officer and suspect are simply going through the motions, left me a bit irritated with the charade of the system. Then I remembered I had recorded the presidential debates so I sped home to watch them.