What's a White Man Gotta do to get a DUI Around Here?!
Being a white person in Dade County is not all bad. The few white girls that are here are generally grateful to find you. People automatically assume you are rich wherever you go. And everybody trusts you. Why? Because apparently Latin people got their impressions of white people from Rose Nylund, and therefore assume we are way too naïve to ever think of trying to cheat anybody. Since we don’t come from third world countries, we must be fine, righteous, upstanding citizens, right? The cops are all Latin, and they hold this same belief. This is why I could probably go out and rob a chain of liquor stores in greater Miami, and if I did it in Spanish I would never get caught. White people here are just assumed to be too clueless and law-abiding to commit any crimes. HA!
This is why I have been able to get pulled over on multiple occasions blitzed out of my mind and have never gotten anything more than a non-moving violation. A chronicle:
November 2002: After a marathon night at The Tavern, the Hag and I stop at a red light across the street from the South Miami police station. I had expired tags on the Saturn at the time and consequently we were pulled over. By a black female cop. And if there is any type of cop on earth that is not going to give a couple of white boys a break, it is a black female. They don’t tend to like us too much. So she notes my expired tags, asks for insurance (which I don’t have) and takes my license (suspended for not paying previous expired tags tickets). 10 minutes later she comes back with 4 tickets: Expired Tags, No Registration, No Insurance and Driving with a Suspended License. She has me sign all four, looks me square in the face and says, “Look, I can tell you guys have been drinking a lot tonight, so go straight on home. You understand?” “Yes ma’am,” I told her and proceeded to swerve back to my apartment 5 miles away.
October 2004 – I start the night with shots at a friend’s house, proceed to close down a bar, return to said friend’s house for more shots and pour ourselves some Screwdrivers for the road as we head out to a house party. I get on the freeway and realize my exit is directly across the freeway from where I got on. And I didn’t feel like crossing a bridge and turning around and all that, so I simply cut across five lanes in about 30 yards, jumped a median, got off, made an illegal U-turn and turned down a side street. I attempted to back out of this side street when my car was blocked by a city cop. No lights on his car, however. He gets out of his car, and I begin to step out of the car because I know what’s coming. They finally got me. All this drinking and driving finally caught up. He screams at me to get back in my car, which I do, and he approaches the window. There is a half bottle of vodka in the back seat and two High School Keg Party Red cups in my cupholders. He looks at me and says, “Do you always drive like that?” “Like how, sir?” I ask. “Oh, you know, cutting across four lanes, jumping a median. Shit like that?” “Oh, sorry, sir. I just didn’t realize that my exit was right here and I really didn’t want to go across the bridge and…” “Okay,’ he interrupts, “Well, you’re not going to drive like that anymore are you?” “No, sir,” I reply. “Okay then, get on to wherever you’re going and try to drive a little more carefully.” If it was ever going to happen, it would have been then.
April 2005 – Driving back down Old Cutler after a looong night of Beer Pong, the Hag is doing about 55 in a 35 zone. A Coral Gables cop, not noted for their leniency, pulls out behind him. To-go cups of beer are tossed out the window and the Hag slows down. The Gables cop pulls the car over and comes up to thewindow. “Where you going in such a hurry?” he asks the Hag. “We goin’ to P-Rine,” he says in his worst Miami black imitation. “Alright then” replies the cop, “Get on then and slow down.” “Will do, sir. Thank you,” replies the Hag, Though not my DUI, the concept is the same.
August 2005 – After yet another marathon night of Beer Pong, the Hag, Graig, myself and a Continental Airlines flight attendant named Gus from Newark decide to pull down some signs directing people to The Knife, one of our favorite restaurants in the Grove. We roll over to Groovy’s for a slice, Knife signs in hand, and who should be sitting at an outdoor table, right in front of my car no less, but a City of Miami cop. He was engaged in conversation with a couple of wide-eyed Cubanitas who looked to be all of 19. We get some slices and beers and proceed to scream at each other, stumbling all over the place while eating said pizza. We then take our signs and get in my car, not 10 feet from the City of Miami cop. We drive away, constantly looking to see if the cop is going to follow us. He is still engrossed in conversation with the Cuban girls. I think the conversation went something like this:
Girls: Shouldn’t you, like, stop that guy?
Cop: Nah, don’t worry about it. So, where were we? Oh yes, my uniform. Well, this ribbon is for….
What’s a white man gotta do to get a DUI around here? Lord knows I have tried. So thank you to the City of Miami, Miami-Dade County, City of Coral Gables, City of South Miami and City of Seattle Police Departments. You all have saved me a lot of money. Keep up the good work!