metropol-blog - Tumblr blog

[metropol-blog]

Welcome to Paradise

ROADBLOCKED

So I have to go to the court in the next town 30 minutes from here. I need to leave my monthly signature wich is one part of the sanctions the court put upon me instead of sending me to jail. My car does not start and I am already late, its 02:15pm and I have to be there before 03:00pm or I am in trouble. Non compliance would result in me going to jail for 6 month. I am wrongly accused of armed kidnapping and my house was raided by thirtyfive elite swat police dudes who broke all my doors at 05:30 in the morning.

Three month ago.

My only option to be there in time is my motorcycle. It is illegal since five years and the insurance is not paid as well. But what can you do. So I jump on my Suzuki 650 DR, put my red cowboy scarv over my nose, put on my streamlined oakley sunglasses and off we go on the dusty rural country roads of costa rica.

After about 15 minutes I bang around a tight corner and almost crash into a blue pickup that blocks the road in front of me. “ oh accident...” I think, I want to help.

But before I can stop my bike three police men jump on me and because it is a gravel road I can not stop fast. So they think I want to crash through their roadblock and get away. They get very aggressive in their behaviour and are hanging on to me like three little kids hang on to their favoured uncle on a sunny sunday afternoon.

Of course I was contemplating to crash through and get away because I do that sometimes. I was lucky I did not in this particular case. About two kilometers down the road they had a second roadblock wich would have caught me for shure.

Finally we all stopped together amongst flying gravel and they were not in the most friendly frame of mind towards me. I was not wearing a helmet, no safety vest, insurance not up to date....they knew they got me and inside that made them very happy and satisfied. And me knowing all the other things not in order that they will find now I sank into a mood of instant, silent and deep dispair: Not only am I already accused of armed kidnapping and tied up in legal battles..., but now on the way to fulfill my court order... I also get caught with my illegal bike... I only had to use because my legal car did not start...and now they gonna

confiscate my bike... and the fine will be massive... My life is not going so well for me at the moment.

And the nice red cherry on my fucked up cake of a momentary live situation is that one of the three cops is the commander of the SWAT team that kicked my doors in back when at 05:30am that day when they arrested me. He was the point man that kicked his bulletproof shield into my face before they knocked me to the floor to tase me. Oh fuck me dead I think to myself, pull my red bandana from my face, look at him with a smile and with the most sarcastic tone I can muster I greet him:

“ Hey!” “ you remember me?” “ What a pleasure to meet you.” “Again.”

Of course he remembered me but I think he was a little bit embarassed because he tried to pretended to not know me. Its allright brother, dont be shy I thought to myself and switched off the bike.

This is gonna take a moment. And I will miss the deadline at 03:00pm in the court . And my life crumbles down another step towards the edge.

Now the second guy, wich is the traffic cop, looks at me as if he wants to ask me for my drivers license... I take off my sunnies, fold them into my red bandana, carefully, and then firmly look into his eyes.

“You have a drivers license?” 

“Of course officer” I answer.

“A1 for cars and B3 for bigger bikes like my bike here”. “I also have a swiss drivers licence and an international drivers license”.

“Can I see it?” he asks.

“I dont have it on me officer.”

“You have any ID on you?”

“No I do not officer. I have permanent costa rican residency free of condition, and I also have a swiss passport.”

“But not on me”

I give him my ID number and he starts to google me on his police hand computer with integrated printout for your fine at the end. An impressive little gadget you have there mr. policeman I think to myself.

“Both your drivers licenses have expired 7 years ago” “That is correct sir” I answer. “You have the papers of the motorcycle on you?” “ No I do not officer. They are at my house. I can go get them quickly....?” Now his hand printer starts to spit out the first fine. I was impressed.

Its gonna be a long fine I realized.

“No helmet, no safety vest, no roadworthy test...” he mumbles, then he looks up to me and says:

“We will confiscate your bike”.

I can not believe it and want to hit my head with my fists in desperation. “Dont confiscate my bike, officer, please...” I look at him. I am desperate. So I try to bribe him: “How much you want? I give you money but dont confiscate my bike.Please”

He acts a little pissed off, pretends to never accept bribes and starts to lecture me about the legal consequences of attempted bribe of any official employee of the state. I wave him off signalling to him that I of course never would attempt to try to bribe him.

We both know he only does not accept my bribe because there are two

more officers of the law present.

I my desperation I turn to the SWAT guy and tell him that I am only here because I have to go to court until 03:00pm to leave my monthly signature. And I only used the bike because the car did not run. And not only was I under pressure to get to the court in time but also under pressure from life in general...

To my suprise it seems I have the SWAT cops ear a little bit because he realizes that I technically tell the truth.

And of course he also remembers when he kicked my face before he fucking tased me to the ground. He gives me a warm look and a faint smile. I continue that I only have 20 minutes left to be at the court and what can I do now? Can I at least order a taxi, go to sign quickly, come back immediately while you watch my bike here and prepare the fines and get the bike ready for confiscation...?

Its a desperate attempt but you got to try stuff...

To my surprise the cops seem to start to understand the predicament I am under but of course they dont show it. They are human. You can talk to them. Its stinking hot, we are standing under the full blasting costa rican midday sun and the SWAT guy starts to be the SWEAT guy.

He sweats profusely in his blue jeans, combat boots and his tactical vest under the FBI jacket.

I look at the bike, I look at the cops, I look at the pickup and think to myself: “ Good luck loading my bike onto your pick up. She weighs 250 kilos and I will not help you lifting it since you are not on my team”

Its seems the guys realized this too. After all it is a 650ccm motorcycle and not a little toy. They too can see how difficult it will be to get the dang thing up on the truck without any type of ramp. In this heat. Already sweating like a wet fish.

I do not give up yet and because I am a fighter I try another strategy and ask him if I could go to the court quickly with the bike, then come back and then you confiscate it...?

But no reaction from the cops.

But then, to my absolute astonishment, the traffic cop says: “O.K. we will not take the bike. We only confiscate the plates”

“ Wow. Nice move mr. officer” I thank him.

Feeling a little bit better I realize I still will not make it in time to court because even if I order a Taxi now it will take too much time for it to get here. If I could use the bike but it has no numberplates now so I can not use it anymore...

“So I order a Taxi?” I ask the traffic cop and he gives me no answer. He is busy writing fines and by now there is about 1 meter of fine hanging out of his handheld gadget.

The other two cops have started to try to take the number plate off the bike and they rip so hard I see the bike will fall off the stand in any second. So I jump over at the bike, kick the stand forward, turn the handlebar full right while I pull the front brake to keep my bike from falling over and getting damaged by my two new friends.

They think I want to attack them and almost jump into the ditch all weapons pulled ready to repulse my attack.... I lift my hands to show my peaceful intentions and they calm down. They recognize I am a peaceful man.

So I hold my bike securely in place while the guys continue to try to take the number plates off my bike. They both sweat profusely and while I watch them I am wondering why it takes these guys so long to get these plates off?

It is now that I see that they dont work on the plates but that they work on the sturdy metal base the plates are fixed onto...with two little worn out screws...but they dont see it... They rip around more, get a little toolkit, take out bigger pliers, a hammer, but still dont seem to be able to get these damned numberplates off the bike....

I almost die of laughter inside myself watching these two idiots revealing to the world that they cant even differentiate between number plates and a solid metal number plate base on wich the aluminium number plates are fixed onto and wich is part of the bike and not meant to be confiscated.... Can you really be this stupid and not see that....

I continue watching this comedy unfolding in front of my eyes. And if I would not hold my bike strongly in place with my firm grip they would have dropped it five times already anyway. Thats how much they rip around. Well guys, I will not help you. I will not drop my extensive knowledge on the subject onto you. Since we are not on the same team. I let them learn by doing.

I look over at the traffic cop and my fine is now touching the dusty and baking hot costarican ground. In silence I gaze at the dusty tips of my shoes and shake my head in desperation.

I look at the traffic cop and ask him: “... so do I order a taxi now? Please...I have to be at the court before 3pm....” He ignores me and prints out another one, rips off the whole fine wich is now over 2 meters long, rolls it up, hands it over to me and says:

“you can go now”

“You can keep the bike, the numberplates you can pick up in Puntarenas. Once you paid all the fines. And in the future I would be more careful”

The two other guys also finally finished damaging the structural integrity of my bike. I could not believe it but they really ripped off the plates including the whole metal base thing with nothing more than a pair of pliers, a hammer, brute force and no brain.

“What do you mean: You can go now? And what do I do with the bike?” I ask the traffic cop.

“You can go now” he answered. He smiles at me faintly, actually looks very friendly and I can see he is actually a nice guy. Because I still am not shure I heard correctly I ask to confirm: “So once the Taxi arrives you watch my bike quickly until I come back from the court?”

“ Go now!” he says.

So hang on here I think to myself: “ You let me go WITH my bike?” “You let me go WITH my bike!!??”

He smiles at me and repeats “Go!”

I can not believe it. This is why I like Costa Rica. If you are polite and honest with cops and tell them a good story that technically could be true they actually might let you go on your merry way. I mean this will never happen to you in Switzerland. At all. Trust me. So I smile back at him and for the last time, just to confirm, I ask “ So, inspite of the 9 fines you just gave me, inspite of the fact that I am driving now even without number plates, you let me drive with my bike from here to the court, do my business, drive back through here without you stopping me again, and then I drive on to go home with my bike?” He nods his head with a smile and as baffled as I am I look at him in gratitude. “Thank you brother thats a very nice move” I say as I put on my red gangster bandana again... my Oakleys... and before I take off I ask him: “ What do I do if some other cops stop me?” He says: “Just show them your fine and you will be fine” I nod my head as a last thank you and because I will be back in a moment I say: “See you” and on my merry way I go.

While I drive away very slow and civilized I am laughing out into my red bandana, hoping he does not hear me, asking myself: “ is this real... ?” I mean...

Think about it, my bike is shure less legal than before they stopped me. Now that it even misses the number plates. But... he still lets me drive on with the thing. You gotta love Costa Rica.

Shure enough, two clicks down the road I run into the next police roadblock. I stop, pull down my bandana, take off my shades, to let them

know its me, find my rolled up fine and want to unroll it in all its lentgh, beauty and glory but the cop waves me on. He was informed of me on the police radio. “Hmm, lucky I did not crash through the first stop...” I think to myself while I continue down my way in awe.

In awe of whats happening to me. In awe of costa rican traffic cops. In awe of myself and life in general.

“Get the fook outta here...!” I shout into my bandana.

I sign at the court. After 20 minutes I am done there and I drive back. When I am about to meet the police roadblock again I pull my red bandana down to make shure they recognize me, slow down, raise my left hand to wave a warm hello not beeing shure if the cop wants to stop me again or not but the cop waves me through laughing at me....

And when I come to the stop that initially pulled me over with my friends I just slow down a little bit, lift my left hand and wave at them like the pope while I breeze through. They smile at me while I pass through their roadblock and wave me on.

As soon as I am around the corner and disapear in a cloud of dust I open the throttle and shake my head in astonishment as I ride home.

“You gotta love it...”

#armedkidnapping #lovethecops #costarica