During the summer of 2007, my parents visited me in the US from India, and I had to negotiate with them about the duration of their stay. Although I had initially asked them to stay for six months, they were only willing to stay for one. After some persuasion, I managed to convince them to stay for three months. Knowing my father’s love for whiskey, I presented him with twenty bottles of the finest scotches to welcome him to the country. He was delighted, but my mother was less impressed.
“Are you trying to turn him into an alcoholic?” she exclaimed with indignation, while my father simply grinned from ear to ear.
As I had plenty of time on my hands, I delayed taking my parents out for a couple of weeks. It was their first time living in a foreign land with almost no social interaction, which started to take a toll on my father’s mental health. He began to complain of high blood pressure every day, causing me to worry, especially since I had not purchased any health insurance for them. My father’s anxiety and desire to return home sooner caused me to reschedule their flight for two months earlier, incurring a $300 penalty. With limited time left, I wanted to make the most of it and decided to take them on an unforgettable journey, starting from the breathtaking Niagara Falls.
During our drive to the Niagara Falls, I was passing through a work zone through Cortland County. I was blissfully unaware of the hefty fines that come with speeding in the work zone, and so I continued on at 90 mph while others around me slowed down to 55 mph.
“Why are these guys slowing down suddenly?” I wondered as we zoomed past the other vehicles.
“This is great for me – I’ll get to the falls even faster.” I kept my foot on the gas and continued barreling down the road.
A few minutes later, my rearview mirror lit up with flashing red and blue lights. It was the first time I had faced a police car in pursuit of my vehicle. I didn’t immediately realize that he was after me. I kept driving for a couple of minutes until it became clear that he was indeed following me, and I pulled over. I was clueless and had no idea what to expect next.
As I waited nervously for the officer to approach the car, my father’s panicked questions filled the air.
“Why did he stop us? What does he want?” he asked, his tone laced with fear.
“I think he stopped us because I was speeding,” I replied, my voice quivering.
“What is he going to do? Is he going to beat you up?” my father continued.
“I don’t know dad, but he is definitely not going to beat me up. The police do not have that kind of authority here.” I replied still unsure of what lay ahead.
“Should we try to bribe him to let us go?” my father proposed.
“No, dad! Don’t even mention that. It will get us in trouble. We are not in India anymore!” I replied, my irritation growing.
“Okay, then tell him that I needed to use the restroom urgently, so you were rushing to a restaurant,” my father insisted.
“No, Dad. That won’t work. I’m sure he won’t buy this argument.” I said, beginning to feel annoyed.
“Alright, then how about telling him that my blood pressure was high, and you were taking me to a hospital,” he suggested, placing his right hand on the heart side of his chest.
“Dad! Would you please stop making suggestions? I will handle it, don’t worry!” I said, now thoroughly exasperated.
By this time, the officer was already at my window.
“Good Morning, Sir! Are you in a hurry?” the officer asked politely.
“Not really, officer. My parents have just arrived from India and we’re on our way to Niagara Falls,” I replied.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, sir. Maybe because I was going over the speed limit?” I replied, foolishly admitting guilt without realizing the consequences.
“Can I see your license and registration please?” He asked.
“Sure.” I said, handing over the documents to him.
He took the documents and went back to his car. My father couldn’t help but marvel at the officer’s professionalism and civility, comparing it to his experiences with Indian police officers.
“Wow! He is such a nice cop! He is talking so nicely to you! If it was an Indian cop, he would first slap you, then abuse you, then lecture you, and then even take your money in bribe! And look at this cop. He is not only speaking nicely to you but he didn’t even lay his hands on you. Indian cops must learn from them!” He continued praising the officer.
“Dad, can you please stop for some time. I’m already tensed,” I responded, hoping to alleviate the tension.
A few minutes later, the officer returned with my documents and a traffic ticket.
“Sir, you were doing 90 in a 55 mph work zone but I’ll give you a break and I’ve written a ticket for 80 in 55. You can either pay the fine or call the court if you would like to contest the ticket,” he said, handing me the ticket.
“Now drive safely and have a great day ahead,” he continued before going back to his car.
As we continued on to Niagara Falls, my father was still in awe of the officer’s civilized demeanor. But when I later researched the ticket, I discovered that it carried a whopping six points on the license along with a hefty fine. I ended up hiring an attorney to fight the ticket, and the whole ordeal ended up costing me a grand.
