The Windsor police are minus one Susan; Coincidentally, I'm not named Susan.
Back story:
When I was 6 or so, my brother was turned in by my sister for growing pot. The police arrested him in front of me. Where was I? My friend who had gone on vacation said I could play with his toy cars so I had gone to his place to take them from his place to mine. This was specifically against his mothers rules. So as I'm playing and walking towards my house I see a cop car parked in front of my house I assumed that the police were there for me... for theft (under $1.00). I hid in a bush , plotting my escape from the law -- I was a kid on the lamb. The cops drove by, waved at me, meanwhile my brother was in the backseat. I didn't see him for 5 years.
This was my first interaction with police officers. All the rest have been just as stupid/tramatic. I have a natural fear of police officers, and I believe inreality most people do, they just don't express it the way I do.
Today, 25 years later:
I woke up to sound of knocking. It was the building manager asking if I was expecting a package to my new place. I have been in the process of moving from a lower basement apartment to a upper level apartment. So there is no reason for me to recieve a package, but I figured hey if the guy delivering the package is still upstairs I should at least look at it, and maybe tell the guy it isn't for me.
So I dress: pants, shirt, shoes, no socks, freshen the breath (kinda) with some mouthwash, push down my crazy bed hair somewhat and run up 3 flights of stairs. I quickly notice that there is alot of foot traffic upstairs, an indian lady, some pudgey guy, and another guy walking down the halway. I took a mental note of that, cause it seemed odd, but I'm not privvy to the foot traffic of that floor.
I quickly look at the package, and say that I was in the process of moving there, but these weren't my packages. Packages addressed for Susan H; they were sad lumps of cardboard. If there had been any kind of package in there it had been crushed. I thought it was funny that these boxes looked so damaged and that they weren't mine.
The guy asks me if I lived there, again, I repeated I'm in the process of moving there, but these aren't my pacakges. So he asks if I knew anyone named Susan, at this point I thought the guy was being a dick and was going to point it out to him, but I have shit to do. So I start going downstairs.
That's when the Windsor crack squad of genius police springs into action. I hear yells of stop, police, etc etc. Remember, I kinda dislike police officers (irrationally, yes, but I do) and I'm out of breath and they just jumped out of no where screaming. They ask me several questions, like where is the building manager, what is their name, etc. One police officer, from that I can tell the only nice one of the bunch, runs off to find Suhk the building manager. Then inveitable comes, 'why are you so nervous?'.
"Because I just woke up and now I'm out of breath"
"But why are so nervous" the grey hair pudgey man says, with his badge dangling from his neck like it's cool.
"Look, when I was 6 years old police officers arreseted my brother in front of me..."
You'd think that this would require little to no explaination, but apparently it did. "So? What does that have to do with us?" Says the indian woman, who has yet to identify herself as an officer.
"Because I don't like cops, they make me nervous"
She a quick one and retorts with, "That's a bit of a generalization. That was those police officers, we're different."
Yeah right. At this point I'm starting to get my wind back, I'm starting to get my composure back, and catching wind of the gravity of the situation. I decide to turn up the wit; the charm; the heat. These fucks are looking for an arrest.
"Heh, yes, it is a generalization", I say. "But you know what, that's the way the world works. Arabs hate Americans, and generally americans hate arabs, and that's a generalization, but it's true".
"So?"
"So? So that's the way everything works; that's how YOU work. You accept it or you don't, but that's the way it is: I hate police officers."
The pudgey police officer asks my name, "Patrick Edwards". "Can you prove it, do you have some form of ID?"
"Uhh, yeah, it's in my wallet" I pull that out, hand it to jerry's kid on patrol. Small little chit chat, where he claims pot isn't a big deal, that I'm making too much of this -- my brother went away for 5 years, his life in essence was ruined for a first time offence. He decides to call me in to the head office using his cellphone "White male. Edwards, Patrick John. 75. 07. 19." all the while looking at me, sizing me up.
After making some claims that my brother still does pot, after making his mental judgment of me I reallt turn the charm on: "Do you have to be such a smartass?" I say. What I meant, or should have said was "Have you always been such a smartass, cause when I get fat and old I want to be just like you"
"Why don't you shut up, you are the smart ass, you've been nothing by sarcastic this entire time."
"Why don't you shut up, and so what if I've been sarcastic, that's the way I am"
"No you shut up" he replies with.
"Actually, I don't have to because I haven't done anything wrong"
I can tell I'm charming them alot because he decides I won the 'no you shut up' battle. This is a battle of wits; a battle for survival.
Naturally, my record comes back clean. No surprise to me, but certainly a suprise to them. So now they start questioning me again.
"So you don't know any susans"
"No, why would I?" Truthfully, I do, and I should have mentioned the only Susan I knew was a transexual in Saskatchewan.
"Do you know any somolians?"
WTF! "Heh no. Well, there were some black girls living here before me, but they moved"
The woman sarcastically says: "So you don't know the difference between a somalian and a black person?"
"Uhh, no, and I bet you don't either. I mean I can't tell the difference between Koreans and Chinese people, but I be you can't either"
"No I can't"
"That's sad" I say. You'd think a police office who routinuely works with people would be a little more multicultural. I should have asked her if she knew the difference between Cree and Denee, I bet she still wouldn't, but I do.
Pudgey man: "So how long have you lived up stairs"
"I haven't, I'm moving up there over the last couple days"
The nice guy returns and says "He has been living here a month"
"I thought you said you were just moving in"
"Yeah, I've only had the key for 2 days. Lets find Suhk, he'll confirm that."
"I thought you said you didn't know any susans" the policewoman says.
"Hearing problem? I said Suhk, not Susan"
"So what's up stairs?"
"Uhhh, boxes perhaps, cause I'm moving"... "You know dvds, books... stuff you put in boxes"
Suhk comes upstairs and they ask how long I've had the key for, and like I said, 2 days. They start to walk away, without even says thanks, or appolgizing, so I loudy say as they walk away "That's some good police work"
The hard of hearing policewoman says "What did you just say?".
"You fucking heard me".
Suhk's eye were about as big as saucers, and I had a cocky smile on my face.
The END.
Kristin says that some day I'm gonna be slapped for being a smart ass. But here are the facts, I'm always right and they are always wrong. I am good and they are bad. Police are supposed to have the thes great intuition skills, instead they were determined to find a connection between me and the new apartment. I had answered all their questions truthfully right from the start and their the ones who uppped the ante with their attitude of guilt. They were looking for their donut, the rest of the day of paperwork, and the sycophantical congratulations on a good arrest. Instead, they go back empty handed. Minus one Susan.
When I'm right, and I know I can get away with it I like to push buttons, especially cops.
When I was 6 or so, my brother was turned in by my sister for growing pot. The police arrested him in front of me. Where was I? My friend who had gone on vacation said I could play with his toy cars so I had gone to his place to take them from his place to mine. This was specifically against his mothers rules. So as I'm playing and walking towards my house I see a cop car parked in front of my house I assumed that the police were there for me... for theft (under $1.00). I hid in a bush , plotting my escape from the law -- I was a kid on the lamb. The cops drove by, waved at me, meanwhile my brother was in the backseat. I didn't see him for 5 years.
This was my first interaction with police officers. All the rest have been just as stupid/tramatic. I have a natural fear of police officers, and I believe inreality most people do, they just don't express it the way I do.
Today, 25 years later:
I woke up to sound of knocking. It was the building manager asking if I was expecting a package to my new place. I have been in the process of moving from a lower basement apartment to a upper level apartment. So there is no reason for me to recieve a package, but I figured hey if the guy delivering the package is still upstairs I should at least look at it, and maybe tell the guy it isn't for me.
So I dress: pants, shirt, shoes, no socks, freshen the breath (kinda) with some mouthwash, push down my crazy bed hair somewhat and run up 3 flights of stairs. I quickly notice that there is alot of foot traffic upstairs, an indian lady, some pudgey guy, and another guy walking down the halway. I took a mental note of that, cause it seemed odd, but I'm not privvy to the foot traffic of that floor.
I quickly look at the package, and say that I was in the process of moving there, but these weren't my packages. Packages addressed for Susan H; they were sad lumps of cardboard. If there had been any kind of package in there it had been crushed. I thought it was funny that these boxes looked so damaged and that they weren't mine.
The guy asks me if I lived there, again, I repeated I'm in the process of moving there, but these aren't my pacakges. So he asks if I knew anyone named Susan, at this point I thought the guy was being a dick and was going to point it out to him, but I have shit to do. So I start going downstairs.
That's when the Windsor crack squad of genius police springs into action. I hear yells of stop, police, etc etc. Remember, I kinda dislike police officers (irrationally, yes, but I do) and I'm out of breath and they just jumped out of no where screaming. They ask me several questions, like where is the building manager, what is their name, etc. One police officer, from that I can tell the only nice one of the bunch, runs off to find Suhk the building manager. Then inveitable comes, 'why are you so nervous?'.
"Because I just woke up and now I'm out of breath"
"But why are so nervous" the grey hair pudgey man says, with his badge dangling from his neck like it's cool.
"Look, when I was 6 years old police officers arreseted my brother in front of me..."
You'd think that this would require little to no explaination, but apparently it did. "So? What does that have to do with us?" Says the indian woman, who has yet to identify herself as an officer.
"Because I don't like cops, they make me nervous"
She a quick one and retorts with, "That's a bit of a generalization. That was those police officers, we're different."
Yeah right. At this point I'm starting to get my wind back, I'm starting to get my composure back, and catching wind of the gravity of the situation. I decide to turn up the wit; the charm; the heat. These fucks are looking for an arrest.
"Heh, yes, it is a generalization", I say. "But you know what, that's the way the world works. Arabs hate Americans, and generally americans hate arabs, and that's a generalization, but it's true".
"So?"
"So? So that's the way everything works; that's how YOU work. You accept it or you don't, but that's the way it is: I hate police officers."
The pudgey police officer asks my name, "Patrick Edwards". "Can you prove it, do you have some form of ID?"
"Uhh, yeah, it's in my wallet" I pull that out, hand it to jerry's kid on patrol. Small little chit chat, where he claims pot isn't a big deal, that I'm making too much of this -- my brother went away for 5 years, his life in essence was ruined for a first time offence. He decides to call me in to the head office using his cellphone "White male. Edwards, Patrick John. 75. 07. 19." all the while looking at me, sizing me up.
After making some claims that my brother still does pot, after making his mental judgment of me I reallt turn the charm on: "Do you have to be such a smartass?" I say. What I meant, or should have said was "Have you always been such a smartass, cause when I get fat and old I want to be just like you"
"Why don't you shut up, you are the smart ass, you've been nothing by sarcastic this entire time."
"Why don't you shut up, and so what if I've been sarcastic, that's the way I am"
"No you shut up" he replies with.
"Actually, I don't have to because I haven't done anything wrong"
I can tell I'm charming them alot because he decides I won the 'no you shut up' battle. This is a battle of wits; a battle for survival.
Naturally, my record comes back clean. No surprise to me, but certainly a suprise to them. So now they start questioning me again.
"So you don't know any susans"
"No, why would I?" Truthfully, I do, and I should have mentioned the only Susan I knew was a transexual in Saskatchewan.
"Do you know any somolians?"
WTF! "Heh no. Well, there were some black girls living here before me, but they moved"
The woman sarcastically says: "So you don't know the difference between a somalian and a black person?"
"Uhh, no, and I bet you don't either. I mean I can't tell the difference between Koreans and Chinese people, but I be you can't either"
"No I can't"
"That's sad" I say. You'd think a police office who routinuely works with people would be a little more multicultural. I should have asked her if she knew the difference between Cree and Denee, I bet she still wouldn't, but I do.
Pudgey man: "So how long have you lived up stairs"
"I haven't, I'm moving up there over the last couple days"
The nice guy returns and says "He has been living here a month"
"I thought you said you were just moving in"
"Yeah, I've only had the key for 2 days. Lets find Suhk, he'll confirm that."
"I thought you said you didn't know any susans" the policewoman says.
"Hearing problem? I said Suhk, not Susan"
"So what's up stairs?"
"Uhhh, boxes perhaps, cause I'm moving"... "You know dvds, books... stuff you put in boxes"
Suhk comes upstairs and they ask how long I've had the key for, and like I said, 2 days. They start to walk away, without even says thanks, or appolgizing, so I loudy say as they walk away "That's some good police work"
The hard of hearing policewoman says "What did you just say?".
"You fucking heard me".
Suhk's eye were about as big as saucers, and I had a cocky smile on my face.
The END.
Kristin says that some day I'm gonna be slapped for being a smart ass. But here are the facts, I'm always right and they are always wrong. I am good and they are bad. Police are supposed to have the thes great intuition skills, instead they were determined to find a connection between me and the new apartment. I had answered all their questions truthfully right from the start and their the ones who uppped the ante with their attitude of guilt. They were looking for their donut, the rest of the day of paperwork, and the sycophantical congratulations on a good arrest. Instead, they go back empty handed. Minus one Susan.
When I'm right, and I know I can get away with it I like to push buttons, especially cops.