(I drive a tow truck for a living. One night at around seven, dispatch notifies me of a call from a client who has a strange vehicle in his driveway. I drive over and find the client standing directly in front of the SUV, still short of the sidewalk and thus on his property, waiting for me. It should be noted that this client has a standing contract with my employer due to repeat problems like this — resulting in our company posting several signs warning not to park here and how to contact us if towed, “several” because they are frequently torn down — and that the property in question is his home. After I get him out of the way, I take my photos and  write down the make and model of the vehicle as well as the license plate. Just as I go to hook it up — and before I actually manage to do more than approach the car — six people jump out of the house next door. The client promptly retakes his position in front of the car, and two more people come out of the house across the street, phones in hand.)

Woman #1: “What are you doing? That’s my car!”

Client: “You parked it on private property.”

Woman #2: “What are you talking about? We parked in a community spot!”

Client: “No, this is my driveway on my land. You parked here illegally.”

Man #1: “Fine. We’ll move it. Now get out of the way!” *turns to me* “And you get lost!”

Me: “The order came through dispatch and the photos and information are in the company’s cloud. I can’t call off the tow without a drop fee.”

(For clarity: I could always try to convince the client into waiving the tow, but between the vandalized signs and the attitude the random person gave me when instructing me to leave, I am not about to do this group any favors.)

Man #2: “Okay.” *to the client* “Pay the man!”

Client: “You pay him. It’s not my car that’s illegally parked.”

(At that moment, one of the other men starts wildly gesticulating, turning back and forth to the client and myself, while rapidly speaking Spanish; I would translate if there had been an actual sentence rather than a string of obscenities. While he’s doing that, the first woman runs onto the driveway and gets into the car. She starts the car and begins honking the horn and revving the engine.)

Woman #1: *with her head out the window* “GET OUT OF THE F****** WAY! MOVE!”

(The client, unfazed, remains in place for a solid thirty seconds. The fourth man then rushes at him, shouting more obscenities with his fist held high, and still the client doesn’t budge. The fourth man then stops short of actually punching my client, despite no efforts from anyone to stop him.)

Client: “Are you going to fight like a man, or are you looking for a few bruises for when you cry ‘hate crime’?”

(I’ll take this opportunity to point out the client is white and the six of them are Latino. Anyway, the fist in the air was enough for me. Before he had even stopped his approach, I had already reached into the cab for my radio and asked dispatch for a police presence due to a violent outburst. The shouting and violent gestures continue, with no meaningful changes, while I wait for their arrival.)

Officer #1: “ENOUGH! Everyone take a breath and step away from each other! Ma’am, turn the engine off and step out of the vehicle!”

(He proceeds to talk to the client, who is still unmoved from in front of the car, while his partner talks to me. Once that’s done, the first officer goes across the street to the folks with their phones out while the second officer talks to the six friends. Despite my distance, I can overhear some of the questioning from the second officer, all of which is done in Spanish.)

Woman #1: “I thought it was a communal spot! I’m from California! There are no driveways in California!”

Officer #2: “Be that as it may, this is not California. He had every right to have you towed.”

Man #3: “Well, now he won’t let [Woman #1] get the car out! He keeps standing in front of the car and won’t move.”

Officer #2: “He’s standing on his own driveway. I can’t move him from that spot unless I arrest him, which I currently have no reason to do.”

Man #3: “We paid the drop fee! He’s just trying to help the driver screw us!”

Officer #2: “My partner’s looking into that now.”

(While he is doing that, his partner collects the video from one of the bystanders and, apparently, starts watching it. As they compare notes, it starts again.)

Man #2: *to the client* “The officer said you can’t stand there and we can get our car. Now get out of the way.”

Client: *in Spanish* “Is that what he said? I could have sworn he said I can stand wherever I want on my own land. But if I’m wrong, he can tell me himself in English. And while he’s doing that, you can try thinking of something more believable.”

(That brings the situation to a full stop until the officers are ready. Be advised: the breaks between the officer’s sentences are longer than they appear, because his partner repeats each one in Spanish.)

Officer #1: “All seven of you agree the car is parked illegally. You six say is it was a misunderstanding. And after reviewing the video, we know no money has changed hands and there have been no actual attacks. So, I propose one of you six pays the driver the drop fee, and then we will personally make sure the car is allowed to be relocated to a legal parking spot. After that, you can all go home. Agreed?”

Man #2: “F*** NO! This guy’s been harassing us for months! He doesn’t have any problem with anyone else! Just us! Do something about this b****** or get some real police who will!”

(The officers then exchange a look that said, “Was he really stupid enough to say that?”)

Officer #1: “Just to be clear: you don’t want police who make sure everyone goes home tonight. You want police who make arrests, ensure 100% compliance with the law, and make the streets safe. Is that correct?”

Man #2: “Yes! Real police work!”

(He then proceeds to read out the Miranda rights, in English and Spanish, while his partner reaches into the car. First, he fiddles with the radio, and then he pulls out a bunch of handcuffs and they go to work cuffing the six friends.)

Officer #1: “We have video of you running into your car while it was illegally parked. That’s trespassing.”

Officer #2: *to [Man #4]* “We have you on video rushing towards the homeowner with your fist in the air. That’s assault.”

Officer #1: “Neither of them would have had the courage to do that without you four backing them up, so that makes all of you accessories, so you’re all under arrest.”

Officer #2: “Since the car is still illegally parked and was used during the commission of the trespass, we can have it towed to our impound lot, so we no longer need a search warrant to tear it apart and look for any other crime you may be involved in.”

Officer #1: “Regardless of what we find, you six just earned a night in lock-up and a bail hearing tomorrow. Once we’re done processing you, we’ll be calling ICE to see if that could impact your bail.”

Man #3: *in English* “WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ICE? THIS IS A SANCTUARY CITY!”

Officer #2: “Oh, you speak English!”

Officer #1: “Our sanctuary city laws are that we cannot question people about their immigration status, cannot detain them solely because we suspect they’re undocumented, cannot arrest them solely because we know they’re undocumented, and will not cooperate with ICE if they’re after people whose only crimes are being undocumented. However, when we make arrests based on other crimes, ICE is a phone call away and completely allowed.”

Officer #2: “And our desk sergeant is usually pretty lax about it, too. Even though we’re supposed to call for all crimes, he only enforces it on violent felonies and leaves it to our discretion otherwise. However, you guys wanted the real police, so I’m sure the sergeant will understand why you all are worth a call to ICE.”

(Once the six of them were detained, the officers verified my name and statement and sent me on my way. What happened next to those six, I can only imagine.)

(It’s my first year patrolling alone around Christmas and I have been warned that I might meet the Grinch one of these days. Well, today I did. We have just had a heavy snowstorm with icy roads. I pull an elderly lady over for a traffic infraction: going too fast for conditions. Though she was only going 70 in a 65 mph zone, the roads are very slick and we have already responded to several accidents because of cars going off the road. It’s just two days before Christmas. She is very pleasant and talkative about her evening and upcoming Christmas Day plans and makes a few funny jokes as I’m running her details. When I first approached her car, I noticed she was decked out in Christmas attire, wearing a sweater with a light-up Christmas tree, a blinking Rudolph nose on her nose, and reindeer antlers with bells on them. This happens at the end of the stop as I’m letting her go WITHOUT the possible $250 ticket, instead giving her a warning.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am.” *jokingly* “Dispatch didn’t find you on the FBI Most Wanted List, so you’re free to go. Here is your paperwork back. Drive carefully and Merry Christmas!”

Elderly Lady: *screeching that sounds like nails on a chalkboard, sending chills down my spine* “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME, YOUNG MAN?!”

Me: *taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude, thinking she didn’t get or took offense to my FBI joke* “I’m sorry, ma’am, yo—”

Elderly Lady: “How dare you?!”

Me: “Ma’am?”

Elderly Lady: “How dare you wish me a Merry Christmas! How do you know I celebrate Christmas? How do you know I’m not Jewish?! I want the name of your boss, and give me your name and badge number! I am going to file a complaint for discrimination; this is unacceptable!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sor—”

Elderly Lady: “Listen here, young man! You need to learn to respect people and not assume they celebrate whatever you do. The world doesn’t revolve around officer [My Name] as much as you’d like it to think it does!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense towards you. I’m sorry I assumed you celebrate Christmas because you just told me you were so looking forward to Christmas and how you were going to your daughter’s Christmas feast. You are wearing a sweater with a lit-up Christmas tree on it, a blinking Rudolph nose, and reindeer antlers on your head, but again, I’m sorry.”

Elderly Lady: *slowly reaches up only to realize she is indeed wearing reindeer antlers, then looks down at her Christmas sweater and slowly removes the blinking bulb from her nose* “I, uh… Um, are we done here, officer?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, you’re free to go. Drive safely as it is supposed to rain and snow more later on today.”

(After she pulled off, I just sat in my patrol car for a few minutes trying to figure out what had just happened. I told my bosses what had happened and they congratulated me on finally getting my very first Hypocritical-Politically-Correct-Happy-Holidays-Do-Gooder. Apparently, they ran into several every year, some of whom got mad at them for saying, “Happy Holidays,” some of whom over, “Merry Christmas.”)

(It is just before Christmas and my parents and I have flown interstate to spend the holidays with my sister. We are all heading down the highway back to her house, with my sister and mum in the backseat chatting away and me sitting shotgun, leaving my dad driving. We end up taking an exit too soon. Had my dad taken the correct exit, the speed limit we are traveling at, 100km/h, would have continued for some time. But instead, the speed limit for the exit we do take rapidly drops down to 80, and my dad, in his flustered state at having gotten lost, misses all the speed signs. Lo and behold, there are the cops. We get pulled over.) 

Officer: *to my dad* “You were doing 96 in an 80 zone.”

Dad: “We are visiting my sister, and I am unfamiliar with the roads.”

(When my flustered dad ends up starting to repeat himself, the officer cuts him off saying that he will be back after checking his license. In Western Australia, if you’re found speeding at up to 9km/h over you only get a $70 and no demerit points; however, at 10 to 19 over it’s $330 and two demerit points. Considering it’s just before Christmas, it’s double-demerit point season, leaving my dad facing a $660 fine and four demerit points. My mum is now having a go at my dad, getting him worked up, and he proceeds to enter what we call “the bombastic mode,” and as such, all information will go in one ear and out the other.)

Officer: *returns to the car* “Because you are travelling interstate and visiting family, and it’s the holiday season, I’m going to be lenient with the charge and only book you at the lower offence: $140 and zero demerits.”

(Bombastic Mode Dad proceeds to not take a word of this in and starts arguing with the officer, again saying how we had gotten lost etc. I lean over, grab his arm, look him dead in the eye, and say:)

Me: “Shut the f*** up.”

(I then look over at the officer, smile, and say:)

Me: “Thank you, officer. My dad really does appreciate you only fining him for a minor offence and not the higher offence, for which—” *death glares my dad* “—HE IS 100% AT FAULT. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a pleasant day, and don’t have to deal with any more morons today.”

(I release my tight grip on his arm and sit back. My dad then sheepishly takes the ticket and his license and thanks the officer, and the officer walks back to the patrol car.)

Mum: “You’re a f****** idiot.”

(My grandparents receive a call from a scammer claiming to be me. The caller says that I got drunk, wrecked my car, and am now in jail and they need to wire $5,000 for bail. When my grandfather asks why my voice sounds different, the scammer says I have a broken nose. When my grandfather offers to drive to the police station and post bail in person, the scammer has some excuse why the money has to be wired. My grandparents recognize this as a scam and hang up. I visit them the next day.)

Grandfather: “I see your nose has healed up.”

Me: “I can’t believe you wouldn’t bail me out of jail.”

(I’m a truck driver and have been for 18 years now. I drive on this particular road every day, so I know it well. Due to previous colleagues and bosses over the years trying to make me work faster by saying this or that is actually allowed, even though it isn’t, I’ve started examining the various laws to make sure I don’t do anything that would get me fined by the police. Along the way, I’ve discovered many other unrelated paragraphs that are just fun bonus info. I am on my way back to the company after finishing my last delivery. It is late Friday evening, I am talking to a buddy of mine via headset, and I am almost at my destination when I see a car pull up on my left side and stay there for a bit. Blue lights come on. I pull over and wait while both officers approach me. Throughout most of this exchange, [Officer #1] does the talking while [Officer #2] remains oddly quiet.)

Me: “Evening, officers. What can I do for you tonight?”

Officer #1: “You can start by telling me what you think you’re doing?”

Me: “Um… driving a truck and talking to a friend?” *pulls on headset cord to prove it’s in* “Why do you ask?”

Officer #1: “You’re going 70 in a 90 zone; that can cause some serious situations with people getting annoyed and overtaking when they shouldn’t.”

Me: “Yes?”

Officer #1: “You’re not allowed to drive that slowly!

Me: “How fast should I be going, then?”

Officer #1: “80, at least; otherwise, you will disrupt traffic too much, and when we pulled you over, there were about fifteen cars behind you because you were driving far too slow.”

Me: “80? Hmm, that’s odd.” *turning to [Officer #2]* “Do you agree with your colleague?”

Officer #2: “I do.”

Me: “Okay, then. One question. When you say I’m not allowed to drive slow, are you referring to [traffic law] Paragraph 41, Section 3?”

Officer #1: *jaw dropped* “Um… y-yes, I am.”

Me: “I see… Well, officers, while I totally get why you pulled me over, and I do hate it when other people are driving slower than me on the freeway, according to [traffic law] Paragraph 43, Section 2, trucks like this one are not allowed to go past 70 km/h on roads of this particular classification, even though the signs clearly state a 90 limit. The only place I am legally allowed to drive 80, as you suggested I do ‘at least,’ is on the freeway, which is specified in Paragraph 43, Section 4. I am under no circumstances allowed to drive faster than 80 and never outside of the freeway, so I cannot legally drive any faster than the 70 I was doing when you pulled me over.”

(I could almost hear the pin drop at the same time as their jaws, along with the gears in their head trying to comprehend what just happened.)

Officer #1: “O-okay, then… I guess there’s no reason to stay mad at you, then.”

Me: “That would be a waste of energy.”

Officer #2: “If you would just blow into this breathalyzer before we leave, we’ll let you get on your way.”

(I blow.)

Officer #2: “It’s 0.0; you’re good to go.”

Me: “Thank you and goodnight.”