I went out to Worcester with my brother tonight to keep Tanya company for her first ever solo bar tending shift. On my way out of Worcester, I took 290E to 495N; at the bottom of the hill after the onramp, I pulled up next to another car, and noticed what appeared to be lights on top of the car. As I was going up the hill at ~70, he dropped back and switched in to the right lane. After I saw the headlights, I knew for sure it was a cop, so I held my speed and watched the road. At the crest of the hill, turbo spooled, I accelerated to 75, and pulled in to the middle lane to get out of the way of merging traffic, dropped in to neutral, and coasted down the hill. At the bottom, I got back in to fifth, and rode up the hill at 75. At the top of the hill, blue lights started to flash.
I pulled over slowly, turned on the dome light in my car, rolled down my drivers side window, and waited. A bodiless flashlight emerged from the cruiser, and slowly approached the car. The car lit up as it scanned for weapons, and soon after there were two knocks on the passenger window. I rolled down the window, and looked up.
It was a Mass state trooper, and he asked for my license and registration. As I was taking my license out, he asked me why my hand was shaking, if it was because I was nervous; of course, I was 20 miles from home on the side of the road. He asked how many beers I'd had to drink that night, so I answered honestly as I handed over the papers: two. He walked around the car, and came to my window. He shined his flashlight in my eyes, and I tried to to squint as I looked back at him. Then came the first test.
The officer asked me to say the letters of the alphabet, A B C D, starting from M and ending at W. I knew immediately that I was in for a barrage of tests, so I simply acknowledged the rules of the game and started playing. I passed round one, and moved on to round two: counting backwards. I had to start at 64 and count backwards to 52. Again, I counted backwards slowly, making sure not to make any mistakes.
The officer shined the light in my eyes again, and reassured me that I was doing well, so far. He asked if I could pass any more of his tests if he asked me to get out of the car. I said "I think I can," and he turned and started walking to the cruiser. He walked around the back of the car, and to the rear passenger side window. He shined his light in the car, and asked me what was in my bag. I told him it was my laptop. He asked what the prescription bottle was, so I told him they were antibiotics, prescribed to me. He asked to see inside the bag, so I reached back and opened each compartment so he could look inside. He asked to see the prescription bottle, so I handed it over, and he opened it and scrutinized each of the three pills inside very carefully. Then, he asked me again, "you're sure that if I ask you to step out of the vehicle that you can pass my other tests?" I asked, "is that a challenge?" That was the wrong thing to say.
His next words were, "are you fucking with me?" No sir, I am not. "Have you ever been arrested before?" No, and I don't plan on changing that tonight! "Your eyes are glazed over, bloodshot, and I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Are you sure you can pass my other tests if I ask you to get out of the car?" I told him that I was certain I could, so he told me to get out of the car, and I did. I followed him behind the car, and he had me put my hands on my head. He said something I couldn't make out because a truck blew by, so I said "excuse me?" He grabbed my arms at the wrists and forcefully put them on my head.
He asked if I had any weapons. I did not, and he patted me down to make sure. He had me stand facing the cruiser, with my arms at my side, not moving at all. As I stood there, I counted three trucks passing, which was an eternity since there aren't many of those on the road at 2AM. He then came up to me, and told me he was going to have me touch my nose. He demonstrated, touching his left finger to his nose and giving the same verbal command, and then with his right finger. Because he was facing me, his hands appeared to be on the opposite side from what he said. Round three, pass. Round four: balance on one foot. Fuck!
The instructions were simple: stand on whichever foot I decided, lift the other six inches in the air, stair straight at that toe, and count - one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand - until he said to stop. I lifted my right foot, looked down, and stared at my visibly shaking foot. Twenty-two thousand seconds later, I was instructed to put my foot down, get back in the car, and wait.
He came back to my window, and asked if my record was going to come back clean when he ran my plates, license, and registration. I assured him it would, so he turned and walked back to his cruiser. Another eternity passed before he returned. He told me that I was speeding, that I needed to slow down, and I nodded; he told me that my left tail light was dimmer than the right, and it needed to be fixed - it took all of my will power to hold back from opening my mouth as I nodded. He said he was amazed that I was able to pass his tests in my state, mentioning again that my eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. He handed my my license and registration, and told me to drive safe.
I put my seat belt back on, stashed my registration in the glove box, and put my license back in my pocket. I looked over at Jason, and he looked back and said, "that was perfect." I pulled back on to the highway, leaving my flashers on until I passed 45, and continued driving. He was still following me for the next mile before he caught the next exit and disappeared in to the darkness.
