last night after having dinner with misanthrope anna, i went to wait by my father's car, he was not yet out of work. i usually do this when i want a ride home, and it's easier than ringing up to the lab where he works, standing outside, or sitting inside.
i went to the car, next to a tree and went to my bag to look for a book. apparently the way i turned looked a little dodgy and a cop car, which i didn't see amdist the traffic on 3rd ave ("you looked like you were trying to hide from us") disgorged three passengers to check me out.
i thought that was a little silly, on 3rd avenue, a warm, busy thursday night, kids going to webster hall, kids walking to cafés, kids walking back to their dorms, to find one person to be looking dodgy. i suppose they were doing their job, and after all, i was wearing marge's gay-ass blue jeans and a 76ers shirt.
it was mostly without incident; the officer thought i was giving him attitude, because i was like, "serious. i look suspicious?! should i not stand here?" and was a little perturbed that they took my name for a record of the "incident." as my father cam up, they had checked his plates and determined that we have the same last name, so they could leave me be;
but i do worry about the fact that a couple of suspicious moments can be recorded and later strung together by an eager officer to create a "suspect"; i know of a person who called in a terror threat and when the police responded, there was a record of some other time he called in to report suspicious activity.
which is fine. record keeping is all good. but a speculative mind can start to wonder about abuses.
the lead officer also mentioned that they had to ask questions, in case there were any break ins. the unsaid part is "in case you look like a suspect," which is funny. i look like EVERY suspect. you know, between the ages of 17-30, 5'7"-5'10", 130-160 lbs. you know, average black guy. eben might remember our sophomore year of college, where there were flyers about some guy-- a thief i think, or a peeping tom-- who looked very much like me; someone tacked it on our suite door. kinda funny, kinda mean, mostly true.