Don't you have something better to do on a Friday night?

I got pulled over last night...

...while I was riding my bike, no less.

I was riding home from work, a la 40-Year-Old Virgin (minus the basket), which is kind of lame, but it's a good way to stay in shape and the fastest way to get around Boston. I was heading down Mass Ave, which is a pretty busy street - four lanes of traffic, many busy bisecting streets, random bus stops and tons of drivers changing lanes without signaling. As I came up to one of those busy intersections, I saw an SUV coming towards me... the driver wasn't signaling, but it was pretty apparent he was planning on making a left-hand turn through traffic. Now I, knowing how Bostonians drive, assumed he was going to cut me off and braked.

I was right, and he did.

Slightly miffed, I pedaled on and almost ran over some idiot who was standing in the middle of the freakin' road.

"Stop! Stop! Pull here," the cop said pointing.

"Wha? Huh?" Were they pulling me over? What was this, some kind of joke?

The cop's partner, an overly aggressive woman in her early forties with a weather-beaten face and cropped blonde hair whipped out her pad.

"Where's your headlight? Do you have one?" She starts peering at my front handlebars with the intensity of a scientist examining a sperm sample.

Now, maybe it's just me, but it's fairly obvious if someone has a 50-watt, white light blinking on the front of their ride or if they're like me and don't. I think the lack of a small orb of blinding whiteness is a dead giveaway. But this officer apparently had to make a show of her inspection.

I will now recount our conversation... everything I said will be in regular type, but everything I should of said (and thought of later - I hate that!) will be in italics.

"No, ma'am, I don't have a light, as you can see."

"Well, you're supposed to. Where is it?"

"I haven't bought one yet."
"It was stolen. I reported it to you guys, but the dispatcher just laughed and told me to stop wasting his time. Funny how you guys care so much about it now..."

"Well, we're doing bike safety inspections here and you have to have a light in the City of Cambridge."

"Bike safety? You saw the guy that almost hit me at that intersection right there." - I point 20 feet behind me.
"Bike safety? Don't you have anything better to do on a Friday night with a home Sox game and drunk drivers running down puppies and old ladies in the crosswalks?"

"Hey! Are you trying to bust my chops here! Here I am, trying to read you the rules, and you're trying to bust my chops! Now I'm going to give you a ticket..." - here, Sgt. Safety pulls out her little pad and pencil and starts scribbling out a $20 fine.

"Whoa, no ma'am, I'm not busting your chops."
"Who the heck says 'busting chops?' What is this, 1950?"

"What's your name and address?"

I gave her my name and address.
What I should have given her was the finger, the name Daffy Duck and the address of the local women's shelter... she never bothered to ask for ID.

"Fine, look, I'm just telling you the rules. And you'll get a written warning."

"Thank you very much, ma'am."
"Good, 'cause we both know I wasn't going to pay that anyway."

Whatever...

Cops, they're always looking for something to do and someone to push around. Too bad they can't be concerned with actually trying to keep people safe, like making sure bikers don't get run over by reckless drivers or crash into cars that randomly swerve into the bike lanes.

Oh, and I should mention that, for the duration of our conversation, Sgt. Safety stood safely on the sidewalk. I remained stationary on the street, in the middle of traffic, with cars, trucks and buses whizzing by me. Now that's some bike safety!