Buzz Kill Nation

Sometimes when I'm finishing a late sunset ball session at the beach I may have a beer or two before I head home. I can't begin to recall how many times I've been pulled over by the Bothell-MillCreek police driving home late at night. Shirtless, middle-aged, male in Yellow xTerra. Usually for something lame like doing 48 in a 35 or some silly shit like that. The conversation is always the same.

Hands on 10 & 2. Cops like seeing your hands. It disarms them. Be calm but concise.

"Good evening. You know why I pulled you over?"

"No sir."

"You were blah blah blah"

"hmmm ... fair enough" (you can see him relax a little)

"License and registration please."

"May I reach in the glove box sir." (always ask permission, they love it)

"Yes"

I get out the paperwork but leave the glove box open. Shows you have nothing to hide.

"Here you go sir."

He briefly glances at the documents.

"You live here in Bothell?"

"Yes sir. About a mile North of here by Mays Pond."

"Where are you coming from?"

"I was playing volleyball at Golden Gardens."

"What is that? A restaurant?"

"No sir. It's a beach near Ballard."

"Have you had any Alcohol tonight?"

"Yes. I had one beer after I finished playing … about an hour ago."

If you have ANY alcohol in your system you must tell the truth. Not necessarily about the amount but just the fact that you had a drink. If you say no and they make you blow it will show that you lied and everything will be a worst case scenario after that.

"Just one?"

"Yes sir."

"Would you be willing to do a voluntary roadside sobriety test"

I always agree to this because A) I know my BAC is below the legal limit and B) I kill these tests.

I know how these things work but I need to feign a little bit of ignorance to come off authentic.

"No problem. Do you need me to blow in something?"

"No I just need you to step out of the vehicle and perform some tests for me."

"May I step out now?"

"Yes follow me."

I follow him to the back of the car. This part is a little embarrassing. Shirtless men driving around after dark in Bothell on a March evening are non-existent. Show me one, covered in sand, barefoot, and doing a sobriety test for cops on the side of the road and I'll show you a less than confident character. I just hope the neighbors don't drive by.

He proceeds to ask me to do some silly shit I could do in my sleep like stand on one foot, walk a certain way, or follow some light with my eye without moving my head. The trick to this last one is that he will intentionally move the light outside of your peripheral vision. When he does that, keep your head steady and keep your eyes at the limit of their peripheral range. You're no longer be focused on the light and he knows this but that's OK. Just don't move your head.

As I'm standing there, usually on one foot, I'm thinking "Do you know what I do? Do you know where I just came from? Do you know I just spent the last 6 hours performing acts of balance and coordination infinitely more difficult than the crap you're asking me to do right now?"

Ofcourse I don't ask these questions because I know that he, like the rest of America, has no idea. Naturally, I nail the test.

"You said one beer right?"

"Yes sir."

"How big was the beer?"

"Standard." (slight smirk, only if the cop is cool)

"Please return to your vehicle. I'll be with you in a moment."

I sit in my car and check my pulse just for shits and giggles. 54. About 10 beats above my resting rate but still pretty good considering the circumstances.

He comes back with my license and no ticket.

"Here you go man. Watch your speed."

"Thank you sir."

I take the "Man" in his last exchange to mean: "You're a cool guy. I wish everyone we pulled over was like you." Of course, I'm just guessing here.