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Rush hour traffic going home last night was pretty tough and I was looking for a shortcut around the worst congestion. Traveling west-bound on Los Angeles' Melrose Avenue, I needed to slip south to catch the Santa Monica Freeway west to my home on the Westside.
The sign said, "No left turn, 3pm-7pm" but I figured that at 6:45pm, it was close enough, and I hung an illegal left to travel down a Hancock Park side street to connect to Highland and eventually the freeway. One hundred yards from the illegal turn I saw three uniformed LAPD motorcycle officers dismounted and standing in the street.
My first thought was that maybe these cops were providing security for a movie shoot; the sight of production trucks being watched over by a cop in uniform making some sweet off-duty money is fairly common in Los Angeles. But as the cop waved me to pull over, I noticed a decided lack of prodcution trucks in the vacinity. Holding a citation book in his hand he walked over to my window and said,"You made an illegal turn back there." "Yes sir," is all I could say.
I had fallen into a trap... er, special enforcement zone, that the Hollywood Division of the LAPD had installed on this side street to discourage commuters from illeglally cutting through the quiet neighborhood.
He took my driver's license, told me to wait and walked away while I fumed. He took his time writing a ticket for another driver who got nailed. There were three officers busily writing tickets, business was good today. I cursed my lack of judgement, the cost of the citation and the hassle of taking a "Traffic School" online to keep the points off my record. And to make it even more irritating, I was getting delayed on my commute home. Damn it, LA commuters hate to wait!
After finishing writing the ticket he had started when he waved me over to the side of the road, he slowly walked back to my car. Looking at my driver's license he said, "Mr. Harris I see you recently celebrated a birthday. What was the best gift you got?"
WTF? I get nailed for a dead-to-rights ticket and now he wants to dick with me. Just write the damn ticket and I will get on my way, I thought to myself. "I don't know," I mumbled. "I guess it was something the kids gave me."
"Mr. Harris, I am going to give you the best birthday gift you have ever got."
Oh great, a cop with a sense of humor. Stop torturing me and write the stinking ticket, I was thinking.
"You were the first driver I pulled over today to admit that he made an illegal turn and did not try to weasle out of it. For honesty like that you deserve a birthday gift, I'm not going to write you a ticket."
I thanked him profusely, shook his hand and drove off while the two other cops were busy writing tickets to some other scoff-laws without my good luck or sense of honor.
Maybe he had run out of citations in his ticket book, maybe he was a Honda fan, or maybe a little honesty made the difference. I don't know. But I wll not be cutting through Hancock Park side streets any time soon.
Scott
The sign said, "No left turn, 3pm-7pm" but I figured that at 6:45pm, it was close enough, and I hung an illegal left to travel down a Hancock Park side street to connect to Highland and eventually the freeway. One hundred yards from the illegal turn I saw three uniformed LAPD motorcycle officers dismounted and standing in the street.
My first thought was that maybe these cops were providing security for a movie shoot; the sight of production trucks being watched over by a cop in uniform making some sweet off-duty money is fairly common in Los Angeles. But as the cop waved me to pull over, I noticed a decided lack of prodcution trucks in the vacinity. Holding a citation book in his hand he walked over to my window and said,"You made an illegal turn back there." "Yes sir," is all I could say.
I had fallen into a trap... er, special enforcement zone, that the Hollywood Division of the LAPD had installed on this side street to discourage commuters from illeglally cutting through the quiet neighborhood.
He took my driver's license, told me to wait and walked away while I fumed. He took his time writing a ticket for another driver who got nailed. There were three officers busily writing tickets, business was good today. I cursed my lack of judgement, the cost of the citation and the hassle of taking a "Traffic School" online to keep the points off my record. And to make it even more irritating, I was getting delayed on my commute home. Damn it, LA commuters hate to wait!
After finishing writing the ticket he had started when he waved me over to the side of the road, he slowly walked back to my car. Looking at my driver's license he said, "Mr. Harris I see you recently celebrated a birthday. What was the best gift you got?"
WTF? I get nailed for a dead-to-rights ticket and now he wants to dick with me. Just write the damn ticket and I will get on my way, I thought to myself. "I don't know," I mumbled. "I guess it was something the kids gave me."
"Mr. Harris, I am going to give you the best birthday gift you have ever got."
Oh great, a cop with a sense of humor. Stop torturing me and write the stinking ticket, I was thinking.
"You were the first driver I pulled over today to admit that he made an illegal turn and did not try to weasle out of it. For honesty like that you deserve a birthday gift, I'm not going to write you a ticket."
I thanked him profusely, shook his hand and drove off while the two other cops were busy writing tickets to some other scoff-laws without my good luck or sense of honor.
Maybe he had run out of citations in his ticket book, maybe he was a Honda fan, or maybe a little honesty made the difference. I don't know. But I wll not be cutting through Hancock Park side streets any time soon.
Scott