Escape

I'm sorry, Google

I got a little catty last week. I wrote a commentary on a document Google made hours after it was released. The document was ridiculous, but it got a little moody at the end. I was especially paled when I heard Fibre was getting added to a flurry of new locations (and is in no way stagnating). Google is also doing what could be best described as romancing a plethora of opensource robotics projects with Project Tango. For last week, sorry Google.

I need the police

But this week, I need the police.

Wait-a-minute… not one on duty or anything. That sounded a lot more urgent then I meant it. What I meant is that I just need to run something by an authority figure so I can get a sense of how valid it is.

I think I have come up with the perfect escape plan. Disclaimer: I don’t condone running from the police . I also don’t intend to use it myself, and I would certainly regret any of my readers using it to evade the law themselves. You could say that I am simply doing my civic duty in helping the state lengthen the already long arm of the law.

The Scenario

You got a bad rap. Maybe you are walking on ice and eggshells after an iffy murder charge, or you received a harshly-worded letter regarding some illegally-obtained Shania Twain albums. Maybe you still have a court date pending for that public drunkenness charge of yours at the Apple store (even though nobody yet knows that’s just how you behave around new Apple products).

The point is you can’t afford to get into trouble. You have to keep your nose clean… which is why that it is problematic that you just got pulled over on a rural highway by a State policeman.

There is no talking your way out of this one. Actually, it probably won’t even be a ticket. You have an order on your head to be deported and/or pistol whipped on site.

Fine – I don’t watch a lot of CSI, so consequently, I can’t escalate this hypothetical scenario to a point where you would admit you have nothing to lose. You are just going to have to get there without me. There is literally nothing to lose at this point. You just need to not get arrested tonight.

My Plan

Step 1: Floor the Car

You need to put some distance between you and the policeman. You need to disappear into the horizon the best you can.

And don’t even tell me you won’t be able to do that. I learned from watching COPS that a trained policeman won’t jump in his squad car right away. Apparently, it’s better to stand there and get a better sense of where the perp is heading (yes - you’ve become a perp at this point, mind you). I don’t get it either, but it works to our advantage for now.

Step 2: Pull Over next to some trees or high corn

This is crucial. You need to pull over next to some place that looks prime for escaping on foot. Don’t worry, if you follow my plan, you won’t be doing a lot of running. The key is to only make it look like you took off running. Turn off the car and open the door.

gtaheat.jpg

Figure 1: There is a good chance you are going to get up to 4 or 5 stars. Just keep your cool, OK?

Step 3: Climb into your trunk

You heard me. Get out of your car, climb into your trunk, and close it right up.

Although my knowledge of police chase protocol comes up short here, I would imagine it would happen something like this…

  • State patrol spots your car pulled over and squeals to a grinding halt
  • Policeman (and copious backup) jump out and inspect the scene with their guns drawn
  • Policemen see that your car is empty. Using their instincts, they notice some bent foliage and conspicuous boot prints near the brushline (clever you)
  • Search commences in the woods. They swarm the area with helicopters and maybe even landmines
  • They can’t find you. They also don’t know what to do with your car
  • “Meh. Call a tow truck. Let’s just go home. He was just a speeder anyway.”
  • Cops go home. Before the tow truck arrives, you release the trunk latch from the inside (which in my understanding, is a safety requirement in modern sedans)
  • Drive off, scrap the car (hand it over to Nicholas Cage to strip it, or whatever)

goneinsixtyseconds.jpg

Figure 2: "I knew you would make it. Now let the gritty chop-shop montage begin."

And call Bob your new uncle – you’re free to go. Sure – maybe it was a little over-the-top, but I really think they don’t even train policemen to check for something this stupid.

So I surrender my idea over to you Internet. I would be much obliged if somebody stepped forward and set me straight, or, what I find more likely, thanked me profusely for delivering more valuable criminal-minded insight.