DWI Checkpoint

The traffic on the highway last night was back up and stopped. I was at a slight turn in the road, so I could see up ahead. I counted at least four blue, flashing lights, and a set of bright roadwork lights. The congestion was about a mile long.

Eventually the traffic started moving, but it was so slow that my speedometer never registered above 0 mph. Traffic cones narrowed the two lanes going east to one lane, and a sign on the side of the road announced this was a DWI checkpoint. “Cool,” I thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever been through one of these before.”

I immediately looked around the interior of my car to see if I had anything out that would make me look stupid or maybe guilty of something. Funny how an expected encounter with law enforcement makes you nervous. I knew I was not guilty of anything I knew was wrong, but I wondered if I might be breaking some rule I didn’t know about. Like, is it okay that my laptop is out of its case, sitting open and running on my front seat? (I was letting some software install while I drove—it just needed time to run—I didn’t have to give it any attention.) Would a cop looking in my car think I was typing on my computer while driving? I closed the lid. While stopped for a minute, I slid the laptop into its case. No need to take a chance.

Traffic just inched along. I kept my foot on the break, letting the car move forward just on idle speed. There were cops on both sides of the road; I counted 10. Most were waving their flashlights to move traffic along, but there were a few talking with citizens outside their stopped vehicles. I could see their handcuffs and guns glinting in the headlights. (No, I wasn’t really that nervous—I just notice things like that.)

There was a civilian car pulled off on the left side of the road, and just a little further up, a civilian van on the right side. Two cops stopped me and one asked for my driver’s license.

I had already pulled out my wallet in anticipation of this, so I handed over my card.

The cop aimed his flashlight at the card and said, “You’re from City?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

“You still live on Road?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.” He handed me my card and added, “Drive safe.”

That was kind of disappointing. I was expecting a test of some kind. You know, at least make me touch my nose or something. Maybe a lengthy conversation, and a flashlight poking around in my car. How could he tell whether I was sober or stoned with that little exchange? I thought I’d get an interesting experience in this checkpoint stop deal. But nope, just a couple mundane questions. Oh well. I went on my way.

I wonder how bad those drivers they had pulled over came across in such a short encounter? Were they just stupid and sloppy drunk or something?

In general, I don’t have a problem with DWI checkpoints. I think they can be a good idea in some places at some times. But on a highway at 10:00 at night, holding up traffic for a mile or more? That seems a little more bothersome than useful. Fortunately, I wasn’t in a hurry, so I won’t complain about it.

If they manage to actually catch some jackass driving drunk, good for us all. (Assuming the jackass actually gets some real punishment.)

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com