Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?
(or if they never come for you, as was the case)
Commence minor rant:
Last night, the remaining atendees of the PAC party (Liz P., Zoë, Sarah K., and me) decided to take the party to the beach. After running around like goons for awhile, we were finishing out the loop by driving by the monestary and taking the long way around back to Liz's Brown St. house.
As I was pulling onto Port Road, Zoë said, "Hey, I'd stay away from this guy." As we followed more than our share behind the car, we watched the driver fluxuate greatly in speed, stop in the middles of intersections, weave drastically, and almost hit various mailboxes and telephone poles.
Our car decided that Zoë should call it in so the driver wouldn't kill anyone. So we called 911.
"Hey, this isn't an emergency, but we're in Kennebunk and the driver in front of us is intoxicated."
Since 911 from a cell connects to the state police, they connected to Kennebunk. Zoë described the driver's actions, and we followed the car. We gave a description of the car's model, color, and license plate, including the number. The cop kept talking and asking questions and not seeming terrible concerned. We drove by the police station, and Zoë told the cop as we were driving by, but nothing happened. The cop asked us if we wanted to fill out a report. We said yes, if the person was caught. The car turned right and we couldn't, so we lost him/her. The cop asked for Zoë's info and mine, and I don't think he was very excited when she told him she was born in 1990.
Anyhow, we circled around to get back to the street the car had turned down and couldn't catch up. However, en route we drove by a different car, which was a different color, model, and had plates from a different state, that had been pulled over. So it was obvious that, though we took care to give specific information, no one had paid any attention to it. At that point the cop called back and told us that the driver had been fiddling with the radio and talking on a cellphone and then hung up. We knew it was the wrong car, but we also knew we wouldn't get anywhere, because we hadn't up till then.
So, in frustration, we stopped our quest to get the drunk driver off the road.
SOMEONE COULD HAVE DIED LAST NIGHT.
We tried to do something about it, but it seemed like no one was on our side. Why?
Commence minor rant:
Last night, the remaining atendees of the PAC party (Liz P., Zoë, Sarah K., and me) decided to take the party to the beach. After running around like goons for awhile, we were finishing out the loop by driving by the monestary and taking the long way around back to Liz's Brown St. house.
As I was pulling onto Port Road, Zoë said, "Hey, I'd stay away from this guy." As we followed more than our share behind the car, we watched the driver fluxuate greatly in speed, stop in the middles of intersections, weave drastically, and almost hit various mailboxes and telephone poles.
Our car decided that Zoë should call it in so the driver wouldn't kill anyone. So we called 911.
"Hey, this isn't an emergency, but we're in Kennebunk and the driver in front of us is intoxicated."
Since 911 from a cell connects to the state police, they connected to Kennebunk. Zoë described the driver's actions, and we followed the car. We gave a description of the car's model, color, and license plate, including the number. The cop kept talking and asking questions and not seeming terrible concerned. We drove by the police station, and Zoë told the cop as we were driving by, but nothing happened. The cop asked us if we wanted to fill out a report. We said yes, if the person was caught. The car turned right and we couldn't, so we lost him/her. The cop asked for Zoë's info and mine, and I don't think he was very excited when she told him she was born in 1990.
Anyhow, we circled around to get back to the street the car had turned down and couldn't catch up. However, en route we drove by a different car, which was a different color, model, and had plates from a different state, that had been pulled over. So it was obvious that, though we took care to give specific information, no one had paid any attention to it. At that point the cop called back and told us that the driver had been fiddling with the radio and talking on a cellphone and then hung up. We knew it was the wrong car, but we also knew we wouldn't get anywhere, because we hadn't up till then.
So, in frustration, we stopped our quest to get the drunk driver off the road.
SOMEONE COULD HAVE DIED LAST NIGHT.
We tried to do something about it, but it seemed like no one was on our side. Why?