first of all, i would like say that i am pretty confused about how it came to be that there can be a coexistence between the stereotype of the bad asian driver, and the asian drag racer. not to say that there can't be any bad asian drag racers, but surely if asians tend to be both bad drivers and drag racers, i'm sure there wouldn't enough left alive to exist as evidence for a stereotype.

on that note, i have decided to come to terms with the fact that i'm a horrible driver. maybe horrible is a harsh term, but as of tonight i have officially been pulled over five times for drunk driving.

the thing is, none of those times, have i ever even had a lick of alcohol in me. up until this fifth time, i've consoled myself convinced that all these out-of-pocket pullovers were just a reflection of THIS RACIST POLICE METROPOLIS (!!!!!!) and i'm sure some of them were, par example the time i was pulled over and the officer explained that it was because my tags were expired, and then proceeded to have me do a breathalizer.

over the past experiences, i've had the opportunity to perfect my reaction to the cops. not that i have anything to hide, but it makes the process move along much quicker. the steps are as follows:

1. place your hands on the steering wheel and if you have time, flip the radio station to NPR (works especially if you have controls on your steering wheel, because if you reach for the dashboard they might think you're going to pull out a machete).

2. when they come up to you, give them a deer-in-the-headlights look and keep your eyes wide open (this is especially important for asian folks, because cops flash lights in your eyes and if you squint too much it suggests you're intoxicated. us yellow folk must therefore compensate. trust me, if you think your eyes are wide open, they only look normal to the average racist po-po-man).

3. when they ask you where you're coming from, refrain from "keeping it real" and responding "what do you mean WHERE AM I COMING FROM, mothafucka?? you mean like CHINA??" and instead, in your softest, most urkel-like voice say the name of an extremely dorky and squarish event. "poetry slam" usually works well.

**in case you ever do find yourself pulled over, but you are in fact intoxicated, please ignore the above rules--the risk of error is too great. the cop will probably get suspicious if you're red and gurgling and bumping a prairie home companion on full blast.


anyway, back to my bad driving. now given, i think i have a lot of strong points to my driving. for example, i'm a great parallel parker. especially with minivans and uhauls, baby! the connection that would make me a bad driver would be, say, forgetting to shift to "park" after finishing my perfect parallel job. but what kind of SQUARE remembers to do that EVERY TIME anyway?

so yeah, i might have been driving a little crooked...and slow...on the freeway. but really, it wasn't my fault...it was almost 4am and thus i had to flip through my stack of CDs for my driving at 3am mix (yeah i really have one. and yeah, i really need a girlfriend). i guess some douche driver saw me driving a little distracted and with my lights on, and decided to go all g.i. joe and call the cops on me. the car was black and with all tinted windows, which only added to the freaked-outness and paranoia that festered in me when i realized that it had been following me for the past 15 minutes!

really, i know douche driver (that's officially his/her name now) meant well, to get goons like me off the street, but rolling up on me all mafioso wasn't the best way to handle the situation. it was probably even more dangerous, when i tried to substantially slow down, speed up, or quickly switch lanes all in order to shake the driver (i always wanted to use "shake" in that way). at one point while i was really freaking out, i even took an earlier exit and waited for the car to pass, only to realize that it had stopped at the side of the freeway and then started up again when i drove past.

needless to say, when the cop finally showed up and pulled me over, i pulled out all the stops, explaining that my speeding was out of pure terror that a black lincoln with tinted windows was following me, and that i had even called my mom to let her know i was being followed, in case i ended up getting bludgeoned in the middle of pleasanton.

in conclusion, i've decided that my driving must be pretty sucky if it even summons a concerned citizen to contact the authorities. i blame it mostly on the fact that i'm still used to commandeering a decade-old toyota previa minivan from the first five years of my driving. damned sedans.