Funniest Way to Get Out of a Ticket

So then…I wince and mutter some expletives, as the sirens wail and the lights flash.

I pull over. Busted for speeding.

Dammit, I’m going to be late for work at the airport.

Yes, I work at the airport – as a security guard.

A skinny, curly-haired 19-year-old girl as a security guard?

Yep, that’s me. (I keep telling them I’d appear more menacing if they let me pack heat – but so far, no go.)

It’s a pretty decent job for a college kid home for the summer — but I don’t make enough coin to cover a hefty speeding ticket.

I rustle around in the glove compartment for the registration. The cop car is parked behind me, no doubt running my plates.

I’m squeaky clean, otherwise I wouldn’t have passed the background check at Burke Security, the firm that provides security guards for our little Louisiana airport.

How little? We have two gates. Only one has an xray machine.

So that means those of us at the non-xray gate have to check the passengers’ carry-on bags BY HAND.

While the passengers are standing there.

Watching us.

This can make for some very uncomfortable moments.

We’re rifling through their personal items, unmentionables, and wish-I-hadn’t-seen-its.

And they’re standing there witnessing this invasion of privacy.

Many times I’ve wanted to cock my head, raise a brow, point to the carry-on and say, “Really? Really?”

The Slim Fast Bar surrounded by a dozen Snickers and Butterfingers.

The business reports interspersed with girlie magazines.

The week’s worth of laundry so filthy, it’s practically writhing.

And don’t get me started on the questionable wardrobe choices. “Oh, honey, you cannot pull off this peach pantsuit.”

In our searches, we haven’t encountered much in the way of weaponry.

But I’m not sure if that’s because our 2-gate airport isn’t much of a terrorist hub – or if it’s because we guards lack the enthusiasm to thoroughly search people’s possessions BY HAND.

If the incendiary devices aren’t in plain view on the top layer of the bag, it’s likely they’re going right through to the plane.

If I so much as SEE someone’s tighty-whities, they’ve got a free pass!

I.am.not.touching.your.underwear.

So far this summer, the only things we’ve confiscated from passengers are several bags of weed — and in one case, a harpoon.

Interestingly, there was no other scuba or fishing equipment in the bag. Just normal stuff and a big-ass harpoon. Our seizure of the instrument was met with some objection.

Harpoon Guy: “You don’t understand. (twitchy, with wild eyes) I NEED this harpoon.”

Oh, no, Harpoon Guy – I think we understand perfectly.

The car door slams behind me. The cop is making his way over to my car.

Maybe he’ll let me go when he understands how critical I am to the safety and well-being of America’s aviation industry. I’m saving pilots from surprise harpoon attacks!

I glance in the side view mirror to assess my challenger.

He looks like a good ole boy. A strict no-nonsense Southern cop.

CopStunnedbyMyResponseNoBackground 350

What ploy will work best to weasel out of this ticket?

Shall I feign innocence?

Flirt a bit?

Weep uncontrollably?

Hmmm. I hop out of the car, to best display my navy blue dacron-polyester Burke Security uniform with the light blue piping.

The cop says sternly, “You know you were speeding, right?”

I say, “Yes, but surely you wouldn’t give a ticket to a fellow officer.”

Silence.

He squints at my uniform with the sewn-on “badge” showing the Burke Security logo.

And then he laughs.

A but-gusting, holy-hell-this-is-HILARIOUS laugh.

And he cannot STOP laughing. He is practically CHOKING, he is laughing so hard.

“Fellow officer?” he sputters.

“Yes, I mean – as a professional courtesy between law enforcers – ” I say seriously, spreading my hands.

He busts up laughing again.

The sight of this scrawny little girl in a cheap rent-a-cop security uniform trying to procure professional privilege SLAYS him.

Between guffaws, he says, “OK, OK, you got me. I can’t ticket you. Off you go. And slow it down, Officer.” He shakes his head, still chuckling, on his way back to his car.

Hot damn and hallelujah!

I vow to keep a spare uniform in my car for any future cop encounters.

— Darcy Perdu

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P.S. No passengers were harmed in the making of my summer job. We weren’t the most diligent baggage searchers, but none of our flights encountered any difficulty. It was many years ago, before people got all crazy, trying to hide combustibles in their shoes & lotions & potions. If I were a security guard now, I’d strip search everybody. But I’d only work at private jet airports frequented by Ryan Gosling and Thunder from Down Under Dancers.

Funniest Way to Get Out of a Ticket - Burke Security with Darcy Face

Yeah, boy – rockin’ my bell bottom security pants!

(Any inventive ways YOU’VE escaped a ticket? Or funny cop encounters? How about an odd summer job or interesting job from your youth?)

Funniest Way to Get Out of a Ticket #cop #speeding #police #car #funny #airplane  #pilot

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Cop Flat Out Refuses My Offer

Cop Flat Out Refuses My Offer (He is havin' NONE of it -- but WHY?)  #funny #cop #speeding #birthday #cookies #Lent #car #humor

So then…I hear the sirens and instinctively, I know it’s me. Of course it’s me.

And on my 32nd birthday, no less!

I pull over to the side of the road and a young cop approaches my window.

“License and registration, please.”

I root around in the glove compartment for the registration, slip out my driver’s license, and flash him my best sorry-officer-please-just-give-me-a-warning smile.

He goes back to his patrol car, then returns with a quizzical look.

“Your driver’s license address doesn’t match your registration address,” he says.

“Oh, yeah, that’s my old driver’s license. Here’s my new one with my new address,” I say, handing him another one.

Now he’s even more confused.  “This license is signed by Maria Hernandez. Who’s Maria Hernandez?”

“I dunno – maybe the lady in front of me in the DMV line? The DMV must have mixed up the signatures.” I smile helpfully.  “So that’s why I carry both the old and the new ones – so together, ya know–”

“Do you know it’s illegal to carry an expired license?”

“Um, no.”

“And your registration is not even for this car. This registration is for a different car from 2 years ago,” he says, pointing to the slip.

“Oh, yeah, but this is the same exact model. I just leased the same exact kind of car, so the registration should be similar,” I say, using that tone of voice indicating this is really a potato – po-tah-to type of situation.

He smiles, but says, “Sorry — we don’t deal in ‘similars’ – we deal in actuals.

“I’m so sorry, officer. I promise I’ll put the current registration card in the car – and I’ll even go to the DMV to take care of the Maria Gonzalez situation. So is that OK? — can you let me off with a warning?”

“But I didn’t stop you for all that. I stopped you for speeding.”

“Oh.”

I see the plate of homemade cookies my co-worker gave me at my birthday lunch today. I move the plate from the passenger seat to the window and say to my nice young cop, “Will you let me bribe you with these delicious homemade cookies my friend gave me?”

He laughs and says, “Sorry, I gave up sugar for Lent.”

“Yeah, well — I gave up speeding — and you can see how well that’s working out.”

Apparently, that’s the response that gets the laugh — and the warning, instead of a ticket.

AND I don’t even have to share my cookies.

— Darcy Perdu

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