Saturday, October 25, 2008
The traffic warden dream
I was driving along quite happily, in my nice red VW convertible, when a massive Mercedes limo swerved right in front of me and shot off at speed. That made me fume—so much so that I didn’t see the speed cop at the side of the road with a speed-detection thingee in her hand. So, of course, she pulled me over and told me to get out of the car. She looked like a cross between a frustrated sergeant major and a bored librarian. Come with me, she ordered. But I can’t leave my car here, I protested. It will be okay for a few minutes, she said. I followed obediently and we entered a small building where she obviously wrote up her fines and put offending drivers through hell. I waited, still fuming, as she filled out some kind of form, musing to herself about the size of the fine she should give me. Finally, I lost it. Oh, just give me the damn fine and let me go, I said. She looked at me, checked her watch, and then sighed heavily. I’ll let you off this time, exceptionally. Now, let’s get you back to your car.
I should have known then that something was wrong. My car was, of course, nowhere to be seen. I turned on her, furious. You said my car would be okay here! I yelled at her. I said it would for a few minutes, she said, but we were gone for more than that. Very unfortunate.
I pulled out my cell phone. I’m calling the police, I said. No point, she said. We ARE the police. Oh, I’m not just calling the police, I said, I’m calling an ambulance too. Hello? Yes, can you please send the police and an ambulance to... I gave a few landmarks.
Is this for an accident?, asked the operator. Yes, I said. Can you tell me the time of the accident?, she asked. In about 2 minutes, I said. Can you describe the situation? It involves a traffic cop, I think, or maybe she’s a traffic warden. A traffic warden? She was suddenly attentive. Yes, traffic warden-cum-Nazi interrogator, I said. Just tell me how I can help you, said the now-quite-effusive operator. Would you like to know what doctors are off duty at the hospital? Yes, please, I said. Well, I know there’s no one there right now to deal with broken bones. What about skull fracture? I said. Nope. Not for a few hours, anyway. Anyone for severe bruising and possible concussion? Yes, unfortunately, there would be a few interns to handle that. What about internal injuries—say, ruptured spleen and maybe a couple of broken ribs? I’d recommend the ribs, she said, but the spleen might get fairly immediate attention. That’s great, I said. You’ve been very helpful. Take your time with the ambulance, though; absolutely no rush.
I closed my phone and looked meaningfully at the speed cop. She was on her phone now too, talking rapidly to what sounded like a car-towing company.
I should have known then that something was wrong. My car was, of course, nowhere to be seen. I turned on her, furious. You said my car would be okay here! I yelled at her. I said it would for a few minutes, she said, but we were gone for more than that. Very unfortunate.
I pulled out my cell phone. I’m calling the police, I said. No point, she said. We ARE the police. Oh, I’m not just calling the police, I said, I’m calling an ambulance too. Hello? Yes, can you please send the police and an ambulance to... I gave a few landmarks.
Is this for an accident?, asked the operator. Yes, I said. Can you tell me the time of the accident?, she asked. In about 2 minutes, I said. Can you describe the situation? It involves a traffic cop, I think, or maybe she’s a traffic warden. A traffic warden? She was suddenly attentive. Yes, traffic warden-cum-Nazi interrogator, I said. Just tell me how I can help you, said the now-quite-effusive operator. Would you like to know what doctors are off duty at the hospital? Yes, please, I said. Well, I know there’s no one there right now to deal with broken bones. What about skull fracture? I said. Nope. Not for a few hours, anyway. Anyone for severe bruising and possible concussion? Yes, unfortunately, there would be a few interns to handle that. What about internal injuries—say, ruptured spleen and maybe a couple of broken ribs? I’d recommend the ribs, she said, but the spleen might get fairly immediate attention. That’s great, I said. You’ve been very helpful. Take your time with the ambulance, though; absolutely no rush.
I closed my phone and looked meaningfully at the speed cop. She was on her phone now too, talking rapidly to what sounded like a car-towing company.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
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