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On Friday, having just wrapped up a hellacious week of work, I drove my car directly to my girl's place, and parked it across the street. Now, it was around 5:20pm, the sign said no parking until 6pm, but I was feeling too tired and lazy to search elsewhere. Besides, what are the odds Johnny Law is going to come by in the next forty minutes, on a Friday, no less. When I got upstairs, I went right in for a long awaited, much needed hug from my girl. As I hugged away, something made me look out the window, and sure as shit, there was a damn cop strolling towards my car, ticket in hand.
I blurted out, "I gotta go." To which she said, "What?!" She had a tone that suggested I was leaving for good, but not even I have ever bolted out of a relationship quite that fast.
Down the stairs I went with a technique hitherto unknown to this area*, whereby I was running down the first four stairs or so, and jumping down the remaining stairs of each of the three flights. I made it to my car when he was about three steps away from sinking me fifty bucks in the hole. This conversation ensued as I opened my car door:
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Me: Uh, yeah. I guess.
Cop: (Walking back towards his squad car, tucking his ticket away, speaking in a threatening tone, especially for a beat cop, meter reader loser) You keep playing the game, man. We'll catch up with you.
Me: Ummm, OK.
As I moved my car, I was feeling a sense of pride having outwitted the Latin Beat Cop, essentially saving myself fifty bucks, and evidently, really getting his goat.
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*Extra credit and a sticker goes to anyone who knows where that phraseology came from.