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Highway Patrol

by Ron Kurtus (7 Jun 1971)

Political satire

PLOT (started 4 Jun 71): Policeman stops speeder. Speeder (possibly a woman) is a political activist and tries all the cliches and loopholes. Cop is essentially playing the straight-man. finally, he breaks into a sob-story routine that he has troubles of his own. The speeder in the end says that he knows a judge, thus turning ironically to the corrupt establoshment method to get off.

HIGHWAY PATROLMAN: Highway Patrolman: OK, lady, what's the big hurry?

WOMAN SPEEDER: Questioning the suspect before he is advised of his rights of counsel? Your interrogation has completely voided your case when it will be brought before a court of law.

PATROLMAN: Huh? What are you? Some sort of wise guy?

WOMAN: I know my rights. You can't push me around.

PATROLMAN: Listen lady, I just caught you going 65 miles an hour in a 50 zone, and I'm going to give you a ticket.

WOMAN: This will never hold up in court. I know my rights. You questioned the suspect before advising him - or her in my case - of his rights of counsel. I won't answer any other questions until I see my lawyer.

PATROLMAN: Don't give me no trouble lady. This is just a speeding ticket. You been watching Perry Mason too much or something

WOMAN: I refuse to answer any questions. I know my rights.

(Folds arms)

PATROLMAN: OK. Let me see your driver's license. You have you show me that. It's the law.

(She sullenly gives him the license, and he proceeds to write out the speeding ticket.)

PATROLMAN: Is this your present address, Miss Rosenberg?

WOMAN: How did you know my name?

PATROLMAN: It's on your license.

WOMAN: Oh, of course. And you knew I was Jewish, when you stopped me, didn’t you?

PATROLMAN: I only saw that you were exceeding the posted speed limit.

WOMAN: You figured that I was Jewish and thought you'd give me a rough time. Well, we've been persecuted plenty by your type, and we won't take it sitting down anymore.

PATROLMAN: I was following your car and it was going too fast, so I stopped you.

WOMAN: Your type always keeps his eyes out for Jews or blacks to persecute. Why my car? Why not one of the other ones? You knew I was Jewish.

PATROLMAN: (takes a deep breath) You were speeding. The other cars weren't.

WOMAN: A likely story. It'll never hold up in court.

PATROLMAN: (getting back to business) Now, is this your present address?

WOMAN: I suppose you'll be trying to get a date with me, next, since you know my address.

PATROLMAN: Is this your present address?

WOMAN: Yes it is. Well, don't bother trying to get a date with me, because I don't go out with- pigs -- ah -- with cops. Especially prejudiced ones.

PATROLMAN: You almost let that slip out. You almost called me a "pig".

WOMAN: Don't try to put words in my mouth.

PATROLMAN: I wish you would have. I would run you in so fast that it would make your head spin.

WOMAN: Don't threaten me! Police brutality! Police brutality! Somebody please help me. I'm being brutalized. I'm being persecuted. He's trying to arrest me without giving me my rights. He's trying to get a date with me!

PATROLMAN: (turning away from the woman and talking to himself.) Oh why does it have to happen to me? Why do I always get the screwballs? I try to be a good cop. I try to do my duty. Why me?

(Woman quietly looks up to him. He turns and faces her, but he is still really talking to himself.)

PATROLMAN: Yesterday I stopped a car-load of hippies that were so dirty that I had to have uniform cleaned, just after getting close to them. And last night, while giving a citation to a drunk driver, some punks jacked up my squad car and stole the rear tires off the car. And this morning, while giving directions to an old lady, her dog bit me, and my hat fell off and a truck drove over it. Now, I have to stop you. Why me?

WOMAN: (sympathetic) Gee, I'm sorry that you've been having...

PATROLMAN: And I try to be an honest cop too. I don't take no bribes. These truckers, trying to get by with an overweight load, will slip me a ten or a twenty, but I don't take it. I'm an honest cop. So what do I get for my troubles? They won't let me eat in the truck stops any more.

WOMAN: Gee, that's too bad.

PATROLMAN: Yes, and that's where you get the best food on the road.

WOMAN: I've heard that.

PATROLMAN: I work hard all day, and what happens? I run into a woman trouble­maker. Is that the thanks I get?

WOMAN: I didn’t realize that things were so rough for you. I'm sorry for the things I said. In fact, if you want, you can ask me for a date.

PATROLMAN: Thanks, but I'm married.

WOMAN: Well, I'd better get going.

PATROLMAN: I still have to give you the ticket.

WOMAN: Oh, that isn’t necessary.

PATROLMAN: You're not going to give me some more trouble, are you?

WOMAN: I wouldn’t think of it. But you see, it would be just a waste of time to give me a ticket, because my dad is Judge Rosenberg, of the traffic court.

END