Serving (a) Hard Time

I've never met a man less inclined to brag than C-Rock. Not to say that 'humble' is necessarily fitting, but he does not particularly enjoy sharing good news with loved ones. He's pretty quiet in person and has a particular distaste for talking on the phone. This is why the occasional time he has called me, bursting with some story stands out so clearly in memory. Almost every time this has happened, it is because he has successfully wriggled his way out of some sort of trouble.

If there's one thing C-Rock likes less than talking on the phone, it's the traffic cops of downtown Atlanta. On a daily basis, tax payer dollars go towards shutting down the automated traffic lights at multiple intersections so that traffic cops can "help" the traffic flow "more efficiently". This endless source of frustration is unpredictable as there is almost always some event going on in addition to the regular rush hour patterns. One day, C-Rock fell victim to one of these glorified crossing guards as he attempted to walk across the street from his office building to the gym. C-Rock is not a patient man and he had already been waiting several minutes with a group of fellow-pedestrians when he gave up and crossed without the officer's authorization. By the time she noticed, he was already across the street. She yelled at him to immediately return to the corner he had just left. His reaction was incredulous since her argument was that because it was unsafe for him to cross without her saying so, that he should cross the same street an additional two times. He refused saying, "What are you going to do? Incarcerate me for jaywalking?!" She decided that was, in fact, a splendid idea. She stopped traffic so that she could walk over to him where she cuffed him and called for back-up. (Keep in mind, this was all a stones throw away from C-Rock's place of employment as a respectable network engineer.) As they waited for back-up, C-Rock noticed the cuffs had left a bit of a red mark on his skin. He says to the officer, "Excuse me ma'am, but I appear to have received a laceration on my wrist." Exasperated, she followed protocol by asking him if he required an ambulance for medical assistance. He replied that he did think he would need medical assistance, but perhaps if she just let him go, he could seek it on his own. She obliged.