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Two Policemen Stop Two Women, and Right Away It’s Mild Inconvenience Vs Visceral Fear
She might be late but her friend might be dead
On the outskirts of London one weekday afternoon
The policeman moves his vehicle to the left, his flashing lights and siren on briefly as he blocks my way. He slams his car door shut and strides towards me.
I groan inwardly as my window slides down. How long is this going to take? I took this route to save time, and now I might be late.
“What makes you so special, that you think the rules don’t apply to you?” he fumes.
“I’m sorry, Officer,” I say.
I am sorry and hope I look contrite.
The worst case, I suspect, is a ticket I can pay online. Even so, I hope to persuade the officer to overlook my misdeed. I’ll tell him the earnest truth, even though my story is a bit shit.
“I don’t usually take this road,” I explain. “And I didn’t realise there was a bus lane. I wasn’t driving in the bus lane on purpose. I mean, when I did realise I was on a bus lane, I figured I was already on it — but I’ll know better next time.”
“Oh, you expect me to believe that? Look at all these cars here!” He gestures to the patient, slow-moving lane. “But you’re so special you have to come speeding down the bus lane?”
Yes, I had been driving down the bus lane, sailing past the patient lane of cars with impunity. I’d never knowingly done this before, but all previous innocence was irrelevant. I was guilty as charged.
Damn Google Maps for inducing me to take an unusual route. Even so, this road should be my part of my familiar neighbourhood because I’m less than a half-an-hour walk from home. When did they add this exclusive bus lane?
“You wait right here,” says the unsmiling officer. “I’m going to deal with the other driver behind you.”
I’m disappointed he doesn’t believe me. I still hope to persuade him I didn’t end up in the bus lane on purpose.
“Offisssaaarrrr….” I plead as he walks off.
