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This was back in 1974, in New York City. We had just gotten married and were packing up to leave NYC for graduate school across the country. (Sorry, this is going to take a bit of setting up.) A last-minute errand involved having to return several dishes to Bloomingdale's that had arrived broken in a set my office-mates had given us for a wedding present. So ... my husband drives me way uptown to run in quickly and make the exchange, which was waiting there for me by prearrangement. He sees a bunch of private limos idling in front of the store while their mistresses are inside, so he pulls up behind them in his beat-up 1968 Saab and waits while I do my five-minute thing.
I come down and my husband is holding a ticket and scratching his head. A policeman had come up and told him to move. My husband said, "but officer, the other cars are here idling." The officer repeated, move. "Well, what's the law?" my husband asks. The response was priceless: "I am the law," he said ... and pulled out a ticket book. It was a CRIMINAL ticket that required an in-person appearance in CRIMINAL court three or four months hence--when we'd be poor grad students halfway across the country.
When we got home, we knocked on the door of a lawyer who lived in our building. He looked at it and looked at it and said, "Failure to Comply ... I've never heard of that." He looked through all his criminal code books and couldn't find it either. But he tells us we absolutely must show up in criminal court or a summons will be issued for my husband's arrest, and he will have a record and never get a government research grant or anything. Yowzah!
So the next day, my husband calls the court to find out what this charge is and to try to see if he can get the date moved up. They don't know what it is and they won't move the date. (I've married a felon, after all.) FInally, after six hours of phone calls, we finally get someone somewhere who tells us: "Failure to Comply ... that's a traffic violation; go to traffic court at any time."
My husband rushed down there like a bolt of lightning, pleaded guilty, and paid a $15 fine. The whole thing took five minutes. We moved to Chicago.
That was one vindictive son-of-a-bitch cop. If we had not been so persistent, we would have had to spend a small fortune to fly back to New York and pay for a lawyer to appear in criminal court for a charge that was not even real. If my husband hadn't been so persistent on the phone all day, it would have happened, too. Needless to say, he never questions policemen anymore. But then, he doesn't have a mane of long hair anymore, either.
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