That time I yelled at the Polizei #Memoir #Nonfiction #CreativeNonfiction #ThisIsMyLife

I’ve titled this blog ‘that’ time I yelled at the Polizei. The proper title would be ‘one of the’ times I yelled at the Polizei. Yes, I’ve yelled and screamed at them more than once. To be fair, I spent quite a bit of my youth in Germany and all young people do stupid stuff. Not just me. (Someone back me up here!) Unfortunately, this particular instance happened when I was in my thirties, my late thirties at that.

It was a snowy night the week before Christmas. At the time, I was living in the Eifel region of Germany but working in The Hague. Mostly I worked remotely but I did travel at least once a month to The Hague. I’d get up at 4 a.m., drive like a bat out of hell to beat traffic, arrive at the office around 9, spend an entire day at work, and then drive home. Not my happiest memories.

On this particular occasion, I’d stayed even longer in The Hague as we were having our Christmas dinner. It’s customary in Holland to have some kind of holiday event to ‘treat’ your employees. Normally, considering the late hour, I would have just slept in The Hague – especially as this would have allowed me to have a drink or two at dinner. But I’d been dealing with a horrible toothache for weeks and could only get an appointment at 9 a.m. the morning after our Christmas event. Oh well. Guess I’ll drive then. No biggie, right?

Although Holland doesn’t get much snow, the Ardennes in Belgium is a whole different matter. And guess where I always had to drive through to get home? That’s right, the Ardennes. Naturally, a week before Christmas, it was snowing in the Ardennes. The roads were horrible. It was slow going the entire time from Liege to the German border.

Unlike all the spy movies would have you believe, border control between most European countries is basically nonexistent. The border between Germany and Belgium near Sankt Vith is usually abandoned (unless Germany happens to be hosting the World Cup but that’s a different story). So, I flew through the border. Only forty-five minutes left until I was home!

Right after the border, there is an exit. I saw a car driving slowly on the onramp. I slowed down thinking the car was in trouble. It was late at night and there was tons of snow. Even though I was on my own, I would stop and help if needed. To my great surprise, when I slowed down, lights started flashing! What the heck?

I slowed down further and pulled over. It’s about 2 a.m. at this point. I’m exhausted from my long day, my tooth is freaking killing me, and I just want to be home – I’m nearly there! The police man approaches me, and I roll down my window. In German, he asks me: Do you have any drugs? He doesn’t ask if I’m okay, doesn’t ask for my license and registration. Nothing normal like that. He asks if I have any drugs.

I asked him WHAT? Obviously, my brain was no longer comprehending German, I thought. He didn’t just out and out ask me if I had drugs. No way. He repeated his question slower. I turned to him and said: You have got to be kidding me. Do you think I’d tell you if I had drugs? What the hell?

He stared at me for a moment, nodded, and then told me to have a good night.

DISCLAIMER: I do not recommend you try this. Although German police are the most correct police probably in the world, it’s never a good idea to yell at a police officer.