I don't have time for this
From the Blog PkColumnist.com: I don't have time for this - The traffic wardens only ticket those who want to get ticketed themselves. What? You don't believe me? Well how else do you explain this: I, the forty miles-per-hour super-straight driver, am caught twice for so much as sneezing over the steering wheel, while an eighty miles per hour sixteen-year-old road roach is set free right after causing my car a smashed posterior, and my face three black eyes and some bumpy forehead. Before I go ahead of myself and delve in some serious self-pity, let me begin from the beginning. It all started a few years ago when a bunch of cool dudes in crispy brand new uniforms, dark sunshades and some super-hip attitude, descended on the roads of Lahore. They were the new face of Pakistani traffic and had something to do with enlightened moderation. So when I was caught taking a wrong turn on the Mall Road, and was whistled at for doing so, I did the most obvious thing an enlightened moderate does. I shifted gears and ran for my life! Lo and behold, to my utmost surprise the brand new traffic warden didn't quit the chase in the first ten seconds, but instead he followed me till the next signal, blared his siren, swerved his bike and finally caught me red-handed, breaking a law. 'I am so sorry,' I instantly accepted defeat. 'I know I was wrong. Please take my license and do with it what you must.' Now either the super-hero loved the sound of his voice, or his training manual had no clause on easy victory. So he switched to the lecture mode and asked me what I did for a living. Getting a vague answer about some mumbled stuff, and having looked at my backseat stacked with a boxful of books, the man was offended beyond belief. 'You! Educated?' he raised and accusatory notepad. 'Be ashamed of yourself. First you break a signal and then you break a law.' And at this note he decided to confiscate my license and investigate my books. Being totally new at the game, I dialled Husband from my phonebook to devise strategy. Husband, knee-deep in the mind-numbingly boring things he does at work, told me to sweet-talk the guy, play the woman driver card, and please learn to drive with my eyes open. Since he didn't have time for THIS, I was further informed, he didn't have time for THIS NOW either. Yet trusting my self-righteous soul to do exactly the opposite of what I am normally told to do, Husband decided to find some time for THIS after all, and requested to sweet-talk the super hero himself. Exactly fifteen seconds later I found myself driving home with my eyes open, my license in my possession, waving at a grinning traffic warden, and wondering what exactly transpired in that telephonic exchange that I had totally missed. Do the traffic wardens only ticket those who want to be ticketed themselves? The problem with being a self-righteous soul is that they always want to be ticketed themselves. Thus the second time I was caught, I decided to atone for all my traffic-related sins and gave up my license to the super hero without so much as thinking of the word Husband in my phone book. My crime was simple. I had taken a call on my cell phone while easing towards the side-lane to stop my car. But technically I was still driving, so technically the super hero was instantly on my case. Satisfied with the amazingly honest new leaf I had turned and having handed over my license, I drove back home, conveniently forgetting to tell Husband, who doesn't have time for THIS any way. The third time I found myself face to face with a traffic warden was not long ago, and this time I was doing absolutely nothing. Seriously, NOTHING! I mean I was only sitting in a car that was not moving, was humming to myself, and waiting for the signal to go green, when suddenly I felt a jolt, heard a smash and found myself squinting at what looked like a steering wheel. Now what that steering wheel was doing between my teeth is something I figured out much later when a sad-looking traffic warden told me to please hurry up, spit out the fake leather and move my car. In the rear view mirror I saw him talking to a terrified looking young girl who was apparently too young to know what a brake is. In slow motion I saw the sad-looking traffic warden talk to her, and in slow motion I saw the sad-looking traffic warden smile at her. I closed my eyes and decided I liked the taste of the steering wheel better. I heard the horns blare, I heard somebody asking for my phone, I heard somebody push my car, I heard somebody telling me to breathe, I heard somebody turn off the engine, and then much later I heard a very familiar voice telling me, 'What on earth? You know I don't have time for THIS.' For days while I nursed my black eyes and laughed at colleagues' jabs about domestic violence, Husband tried to trace the girl who had bumped her car into mine. 'Why wasn't she ticketed?' he asked the officers one after another. Well if he asks me I can tell him that the rule over here is pretty simple: the traffic wardens only ticket those who want to get ticketed themselves, and the young girl might not be old enough to drive, but was definitely old enough to know the difference. . Read Full Post
0 comments :
Post a Comment