Liar liar pants on fire!

I, Dataceptionist, your faithful blogger, am a liar. There. I said it! I’m sorry!

(slightly less faithful recently sorry, been a bit busy at work)

Doing some tag maintenance recently, I found a post called Cops are Tops. It’s a recount of my first ever breath test, making my post  recently about my breath test, false! I completely forgot about it. I can’t remember WHAT I was doing in Castle Hill, at midnight, on a weeknight, but I got pulled over. Seemingly without incident, as I don’t even recall it after reading the post. Its like someone else’s story funnily…

It has reminded me however that I was going to recount another tale of Police brutality (aka a routine traffic stop) of mine.

I’ve had to go back to the high school archives for this one, and have even gone to the trouble of scanning a photo or two, so you can really feel part of the story. 

First off, some background info-

 

So way back in year 12 at school, I was  the proud owner of a VW beetle, here she is. ---->

I was devastated when it came time to sell her, but an enormous relief also (it broke down quite a lot. I often joked that I knew all the NRMA [roadside assistance] mechanics on a first name basis) . 

That said, I actually shed a tear when I watched it drive away after I sold it. *sniff*

Anyway, I did Drama as a subject for my HSC (final year high school exams for those outside Oz). One of the components of the subject was a group performance with the class of 24 split into small groups to work on a piece that, from memory, could be on anything you wanted, there were no limits. 

So one day, I was on my way to a rehearsal at one of the girls houses. I used to tear around quite a bit in my beetle, and so was ever vigilant for the police, but I was almost at my destination on this occasion, so was paying less attention than I should have been, and suddenly theres a police car stopped on the side of the road. I was in a 50 km/h zone, going 80, by the time I got to the car I would still have been going 55-60, but thankfully was turning just after the car.

So you can imagine what happened then, as I watch in my rear view mirror, he turns a little after me. The follows me for about 2-3 minutes. This doesn't sound very long, but when you're crawling along waiting for the sirens to sound, and the lights to flash, it can be an eternity.

Eventually the siren sounds, and I hasten to pull over, so I look like an innocent obliging citizen.I quickly rummage around for my handbag, so I have my license at the ready, and the window down by the time he ambles over to me. Later my mother tells me not to look so "practiced" at being pulled over LOL

I imagine he made small talk or something before asking me to step out of the car. Remember how I said I was on my way to a rehearsal? A DRESS rehearsal, I'm in costume...

I'm second on the LEFT. In the lime green. 

You can't see the rainbow knee high socks I'm wearing as well as the full makeup. 

So looking like a clown missing floppy shoes, I climb out of my, now equally as silly looking, Volkswagen so he can demonstrate to me I haven't got my "P" plate displayed correctly. 

I'm certain he saw what I was wearing through the window and decided it would be funny to haul me out of the car. My father helpfully points out later also, that he was probably checking out my tits as well. Nice Dad.