So, I found out last night that nothing we do is really private. Allow me to explain:
I was on my way to the curling club to play our first playdown game of the spring, and I got no more than ten blocks from my house and I saw cherries in my mirror. I pulled over, and got out my ID. As I was digging in my wallet for my insurance card, the cop said, "Don't bother, you're suspended. Step out of the car, please."
This was news to me. I stepped out of my car, and they led me back to the squad car. With my hands on the trunk of the cruiser, she gave me the full pat-down.
An aside: when I'm on long car drives, I often find myself in truck stop bathrooms. If I happen to have three quarters on me, I find it funny to get the weird sex-toy items from the vending machine. I do this not with any intention of ever using the items, but because I find it funny and interesting to see what I get for my 3/4 dollar and to see the hilarious packaging that these items come in.
Back at the scene of the infraction, she was patting me down, and she took everything out of my pockets and set it on the trunk of the squad. My camera, my gloves, my Moleskine notepad, my wallet. She reached into the breast pocket of my coat and pulled out the "Horny Goat Weed" aphrodisiac supplement, took one look at it, and put it back into my pocket.
They then sat me in the back of the car (It was tiny back there - I can't imagine being over six feet with my hands behind my back and trying to fit in there), and I sat thinking this would be the time I ended up in lockup. I'd get bailed out, and whomever came to save me would stand there silently judging as the clerk on the other side of the glass assessed what had been in my pockets: "One Nikon Coolpix camera, one leather billfold, one 'Horny Goat Weed' herbal aphrodisiac." I was mortified just thinking about it.
They went through the contents of my backseat:
Cop #1: You know, you've got quite a bit of garbage in back, there.
Me: Yeah, I've been hibernating over the winter - I was going to clean it next week.
Cop #2: Do you have a girlfriend or a wife or something?
Me: Yes, I have a girlfriend, and she contributes to that mess.
Cop #2: Well then disregard my next statement.
Cop #1: What about those muffins? How long have they been in there?
Me: Those are carrot cake cupcakes. I just put them in there today to bring to the club with me!
All I wanted was to get to the club and wreak some havoc on sheet six, but someone had to criticize the way I live my commuter life.
In retrospect I have no reason to be upset, since they went ridiculously easy on me, considering I did in fact have an unpaid ticket from six months ago ("We should tow your car, but since you live so close you can drive home and park legally, but if a Mpls cop sees you driving again you'll get your car towed."), but at the same time, I feel a little violated. I mean, they made fun of my automotive hygiene. That hurts. I always thought my car was a sanctuary. If I invited a friend in, that was a privilege, and anyone curious about how I lived my life was SOL. Pull me over, yes. Drag me out of the car if you have reason to believe I'm up to no good. That's fine. But for god's sake, don't make fun of the fast food wrappers in my back seat. That's like finding Lipitor in someone's medicine cabinet, and making a cholesterol joke.
On a happier note, I got a hold of a friend to pick me up and take me to the curling club. The other team tied it up in the seventh end, and it looked like they were going to mop the ice with us. Shaun, our skip, came through on the last rock, threading it into the house to sit point and we barely won the game. Looks like I got ridiculously lucky twice last night.