Cursed by God

Years ago myself and another officer stopped an older lady for a traffic violation. She was quite upset with the ticket I gave her and screamed, "I rebuke you in the name of the Lord!" Then, she glanced back at my partner who, until this point had said nothing to her, merely standing at the passenger side of my patrol car waiting for me to finish, and says, "and that officer too!" He threw his hands up in confusion and giggled, "What did I do?" The old lady sped off, furious.

I never thought I'd be in this position again. But the other night it happened.

I was leaving Eagle's gas station when my exit was completely blocked by a small blue car, sitting idle, at the rear of the store where Marvino Lane intersects the driveway. I assumed the car would move, but after nearly an entire minute passed with no traffic blocking the car's route, I honked my horn. The driver fidgeted around in the car and then turned right, the front left tires of the car crossing the double yellow lines. I suspected the driver might be under the influence of alcohol. I followed and noticed the driver was weaving in the lane. I turned on my blue lights on and stopped the car.

Upon approaching the driver I realized she was not drunk. She was a massive black woman. Balanced on her lap was a Bojangles biscuit (I'm almost certain it was a fatback biscuit) and a cup of tea. So she had stopped in the middle of the intersection, blocking everyone else's movement, to eat!

"Why did you stop me, officer?"

"You were blocking the lane back at the gas station. And you were driving in an erratic manner."

"I was not! What is your name?"

I'm always surprised when people think the best way to speak to an officer is to be confrontational. "Corporal Hines, mam. I need your license and registration."

She gives it to me and then says. "I wasn't blocking the intersection. I am diabetic and I needed to get something on my stomach."

"You couldn't have pulled into a parking space to eat? You drove all the way from the Bojangles with your food, so I know you passed quite a few."

"I don't think you pulled me because of my driving. I think you pulled me because I'm African American. That's why you pulled me over!"

"Wait right here, mam," I tell her. I walk back to my car and write her a ticket for unsafe driving. I then return and give it to her.

"You've got to be kidding me! You're a racist!"

I ignore her comments and explain the court process to her. She tries to argue the specifics of the ticket and I tell her she can debate it in court. I then walk back to my car. As I get ready to sit down she rolls out of the driver seat and I see the car rise at least four inches.

"I'm going to call Mike Easley's office on you! You'll be lucky to keep your job."

I just stand there ignoring her lunacy.

"Barack Obama is going to get elected. Then all this is going to change." She giggles madly. "You don't like that, do you? Barack Obama. Barack Obama. You don't like me saying his name do you? What are you going to do when he's elected?"

"I voted for him in the primary," I said.

She looked as if the wind had been pulled from her sail, although she was much larger than any boat I've seen. Maybe if she quit stuffing her face with biscuits, she wouldn't have to take insulin.

"I know who will get you, officer," she spat. "God will judge you! You will stand before him and he'll set you straight. In fact, I curse you! I curse you in God's name!" Her face twisted for a moment, possibly the realization that she'd finally lost her mind. "Maybe I shouldn't say that," she says. "But you'll get yours!"

Finally she sat her fat ass back inside the car and sped off, muttering. I can only imagine some poor guy that had to listen to her incessant rambling for the next two hours after she got home. I'm sure that guy curses me as well.