3WW (Ambitious, Incredible, Ugly): Drunk Driving

I watch from the parking lot as the car weaves. It’s about 2:15 a.m. on a Saturday. An appropriate time for this kind of scene. It’s a Ford Taurus. Green. Looks like a company car. I’m almost hoping the car stops. Its battery goes. Or maybe a flat tire. Then I could go and help as the ambitiously drunk driver tries to open the trunk and retrieve the spare. I don’t really care about my quota this month. I’d rather just But no. The car pulls out onto the thoroughfare. Continuing to weave. I start up the cruiser and pull out of the parking lot, keeping my eye on the Taurus up ahead. The green car swerves into the oncoming lane. Thankfully, there’s no one coming. I hold back and hope that they turn. The car swerves again, just missing a truck coming in the other direction. I sigh and make my move.

I turn the lights on and get behind the car. I assess the situation. Two people. Man driving. Woman in the front seat. I can see the silhouettes. I run the plates. Double take the screen. And groan. I wish I hadn’t turned on the lights. I wonder if I could just flip the switch and drive by. Or I could act like I’m on my way to another call. But my conscience gets the better of me. I continue to proceed hoping that this won’t get ugly.

I sit in the car and watch as the man gets ready with his license and registration. Between his driving and the movements in the car, I know he shouldn’t be driving. A tired feeling washes over me. If only I could be at home in my own bed. Enjoying a good night’s sleep before going off to some desk job. But no, my grandfather was a cop. My father was a cop. And here I am an only child and a cop. Family pressure’s fun. I grab the clipboard and make my way to the passenger side. I justify this move since we’re on a busy street.

It’s what I expected. I don’t recognize the woman in the front seat. But I recognize the guy. ‘License and registration,’ I say. He provides. Still doesn’t know who I am. ‘Do you know how fast you were going?’ I ask. He doesn’t know. She’s blitzed. I should pull him out of the car and punch him. Can’t do that. I should pull her out of the car and send her home. I wonder if she’s older than 18. He’s had a soft spot for the younger girls since college. Never illegal, but close enough. I inspect the license. Same address that I visited two weeks ago to celebrate his youngest daughter’s third birthday. His wife made the best macaroni and cheese for the occasion.

‘Sir, please step out of the car.’ He does. As he exits, he starts to explain that he knows someone on the force. Until he sees me. And realizes that I’m the one he knows. I ask him what he’s doing. He has no answer. I ask him if he knows how incredibly stupid he is. He chuckles in that demeaning way he has. He smirks and asks me if I’m going to take him in. There’s nothing I want more. But I can’t. He laughs again and opens his car door. He looks back a last time and shakes his head. The car starts and takes off. Weaving into traffic.

I stand watching him drive away. And wish to God he had never caught me sleeping with that other woman.