Lisa killed me playing scrabble last night. She got 33 points for XI. A Chinese measurement. I bid her good evening and drove the Landrover down S. County Road under a fading full moon. Passing Joe's Crab Shack my phone lit up with an SMS from my Thai mistress. Our baby was going to be a boy. I phoned the phone to tell a friend about the news of my baby being a boy.I didn't get far. A Christmas tree of lights exploded behind me. The Palm Beach cops last night. 10pm. "Let me get back to you. The cops want to talk with me."
I pulled over to the curb and kept my hands on the steering wheel. The officer came to the passenger side and clicked his flashlight on the glass. I put it down and saw that he was young. I don't believe in talking too much at this juncture. As far as i knew I hadn't done anything wrong. At least not today.
"Yes, officer."
"Your right-rear tail light is out." His accent was Floridian and hair-cut like he was expecting his reserve until to get shipped to Iraq.
"Really?" I had only one beer at my friend's house, while we were playing scrabble.
"Yep, license and registration and insurance, please." He was polite for a cop, then again this was Palm Beach.
The license was in my wallet. The registration in the glove compartment. I couldn't find the insurance. Giving him the first two, I apologized, "Sorry, this isn't my car. I'm house-sitting on King's Road. The insurance is on the desk there."
The officer asked the address and I correctly gave him the number.
"I'm sorry about the light. Does this mean I'm getting a ticket?"
"No, if everything checks out, it's a simple verbal warning."
"Thanks, I was speaking with my friend. I must found out I'm having a baby boy."
"Congratulations. I'll be right with you."
While I was in Thailand I wondered about my first encounter with the police, because Thais drive with total disregard for traffic laws. The entire country has 4 breathalyzers and if caught for DWI the Thai police will make you drink water until you pass the test. American cops aren't so nice. My good friend, Andrew C, was invited to a dinner party at Paul Kasman on 10th Avenue in NYC. He was flying to London on the morrow. His car was packed with his luggage. I met him on Orchard Street to get some money. We had a Stella at a Lower East Side bar. During the affair at the art gallery he drank six glasses of wine and one of champagne. Coming outside to smoke a cigarette he spotted a tow truck backing up to haul away his Audi to the docks. He got there before the clamps had been hooked to his car and Andrew drove away to find a decent parking spot. It took more than ten minutes. Finally he crammed the car into a spot a block from the gallery and got out of the car. A light blinded him. It came from an unmarked NYPD cop car. Two cops ordered him to stay where he was.
"Have you been drinking?" The driver asked shining a wavering flashlight in Andrew's face.
"I had two drinks at a party around the corner." He explained with a Norfolk county stutter that he was flying to see his parents. "Tomorrow morning."
"I don't care about your travel plans." The driver was clearly disinterested and requested that Andrew either submit to a alcohol test or get in their car for a trip to the precinct house. Andrew thought about it for two seconds and opted for the Breathalyzer lottery. He blew into the device and passed. The cop was not happy.
"You barely passed."
"Barely passed under, thank you." almost only counts in atomic bombs.
Andrew locked the car and went back to the party. He didn't drink anything else. Coming out of the gallery he saw the cops waiting. He smiled and said, "Bon Voyage."
he was lucky and so was I. The Palm Beach cop returned to the car and said, "Get that fixed."
"I will as soon as the house owners wire the money."
"That could be a long time." He knew his territory.
"I have a bike." It was cheaper than a Rover.
"Good Luck with your baby boy."
"Thanks. Now all I have to do is think of a name.
I liked Jesse James Smith a lot.
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