I had just finished dropping off my drunken friends. “That party was lame”, I said to myself. I drank a little, not enough to make me a drunk, stupid driver or anything. I was, basically, the designated driver, I didn’t mind, really. Most times it was a good time, but this party just wasn’t doing anything to anyone, not that there were a lot of people there, anyways. “Good food, though” I said, “at least”. But now, after making some pretty long trips ‘cause I was feeling like being a good guy and leaving everyone at their door, it was time for me to go home.
Hey I should probably go left, and take the avenue, that should be quicker, err, wrong way, oh, oh no. Those coppers sure are sneaky, damn. Knock knock, “I need for you to park your car right here” it was a very complicated spot, but hey, I can do it, I thought, and indeed. “Nope, I will need you to try again, this time try parking right here” ,“All right!” oh, I get it, this guy thinks I’m all light headed drunk, he’s trying to test me, but that won’t work. Finally, he approached, probably feeling defeated after I nailed his little test. “Have you drank at all, young man?” no way, man you should know who you are talking to, it’s me, I’m the designated driver, I thought, then said “No, sir”, “All right, let me smell that breath of yours!” ,“Okay”, “Well seems to me you might be okay after all, young man.” Then he decided to stick his head inside my car, he went all sniffling sniffle, then said “It reeks of alcohol in there, you lied, you are a liar, young man”. Listen man everyone who was in my car on the last 30 minutes were pretty drunk, so mind your own business, anyway, I thought, but decided to go with: “All my friends were pretty drunk, sir. I’m not lying to you, I was just heading home after being the designated driver of my friends” I honestly felt very proud of myself. “Okay, I guess I believe you, do you have any open bottles of liquor in there, any booze?” He said booze in a weird tone, like a slang tone, but weird, he emphasized on the “oooo”, that’s weird, I thought. “No, sir, just my good old self in here”, “All right young man, you’re good on the alcohol thingy there, but you still went the wrong way, why is that?” Listen, man it’s 3:30 in the morning, no car was even on the avenue, and you are giving me crap about me going the wrong way, plus it was just like 5 meters, and I made a U turn, and I was being cautious, you just want to mess with someone, ‘cause you’re bored, I know this… I thought about all this, and then answered as I shrugged: I guess I tripped, man. “You sure did, young fella. Let me get your ticket… BRB.” That last “BRB” really made me hate the guts out of this guy, but I keep my cool, as I didn’t mean to get in more trouble. “Hey cop, how much are we talking about with this ticket, is it expensive?” “Yeah, about 60 bucks, haha, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you… ” He said with a creepy-ass smirk painted on his face, as if he knew that it was indeed, a big problem for me. “Listen man, that is a big problem for me, I’m just a student. I don’t have the extra cash to pay that. Is there any other way?” I asked in an innocent way, searching for the non-existent sensitive side of the five-o. “Well young man, I have to tell you, This is the legal way… However, i don't really like the legal way too much, so maybe we can think of something else… Do you have something in mind young fella?” Wow, I thought. I knew exactly what he mean with that. That bribe innuendo was pretty smooth and as nasty as a pig… a different pig. I’m not stupid, I knew right away the right thing to do. I suppressed the temptation and told him: “hmm… Nope.” Needless to say, he didn’t expect that. “Really? So I give you the ticket right now.. Is that’s correct?” Yes man, give me the ticket. Give me the stupid ticket! I dare you! I double dare you, corrupt and unethical crook, to give me a ticket!! As I struggled to control my last spark of inner rebellion, I answered: “Yes, hand it over”. The police officer gave me the ticket with a blank face, and let me go. “Free at last” I said, as I drove home to sleep. The next morning as I enter my car, I smell it… It smelled like a Bacardi bottle slaughterhouse. Mainly because of the bottle hiding between plastic bags in the front passenger seat that the cop totally missed out.
Written by Carlos Ramírez, and Rodrigo Alberto Garza