Michelle and I love Chicago. It’s the only city in the country where we can put on jeans, a hoodie, and a ski cap and walk down the streets in the dead of winter and not get hassled.
Last week we headed down the street to our favorite McDonald’s for some coffee. A few McDonald’s have the McCafe with special blends. It is so much fun listening to those young black kids behind the counter.
Anyway, we finished up our coffee and headed outside where a chubby white cop was writing out a ticket. The parking meter had expired. So, I stroll up to the cop and smile and say, “Hey, how about cutting a brother some slack, my good man? Let me put another quarter in the meter and buy you some coffee. It’s cold out here.”
Michelle just giggled.
The officer gave me a dirty look, slapped the ticket under the windshield wiper and started writing another one. The second ticket was for an expired license. I let him write for a couple of minutes, and when he started shivering, I said, “Officer, perhaps we have not made ourselves clear. We are willing to forget the whole thing and promise to get the license renewed if you simply show some restraint. How about it?”
The officer didn’t say a word, finished writing the ticket, slapped it under the windshield and started writing another ticket. I looked over his shoulder and the third ticket was for leaving a car unattended. “Officer,” I said, “You are the perfect example of why cousins should not marry.”
That got him writing another ticket. I don’t even know what it was for. What could it be? Either way, it didn’t really matter. Michelle tugged on my arm and we walked on down the street.
It wasn’t our car.
I love Chicago.
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