Last month a friend of mine, David was driving back from Bahrain to Riyadh. He drives a nice car. A very nice BMW in fact (he works as a cartographer and obviously has more generous employers than me). As his family was with him he was driving back carefully, below the 120 km/h speed limit and way below the apparently expected speed of around 180 km/h.
This perhaps was his gravest mistake.
A police car pulled up along side them at a set of traffic lights and the two cops inside stared at their nice car. They stared at their white skin. They gaped at their fair hair. They then pulled them over and tried to find an excuse to give them a ticket. They failed to find a valid reason, so they wrote them a speeding ticket. They gave them a speeding ticket whilst they weren't even moving!
This is the Police in the Magic Kingdom!
If you drive on Al Khobar’s main highways at night you see a large number of cars stopped by unmarked traffic police cars. You don't see a Mercedes or a Porsche stopped as the Police
presume these to be driven by a Prince or at least someone with influence. The majority of the cars pulled over are pick-up trucks or less expensive cars.
Sadly I'm driving the latter kind of car rather than the former.
So it had to happen eventually, didn't it?Very early this morning I drove to work for what I knew would be a long day. I was doing 115 km/h in the middle lane of the highway where the speed limit is 120 km/h when I noticed the car ahead being forced to brake by a weaver.
I changed lanes to avoid the danger and suddenly a silver car pulled right up behind me, tailgating me with barely a yard's gap. I decided to move back into the middle lane to avoid him but he followed me.
Suddenly police lights started flashing and I realised it was an unmarked police car so I moved into the slow lane to allow him to pass but he followed me….. I finally realised that I was being stopped by the police! Outrage and indignation swiftly arrived but were quickly beaten into submission by fear and resignation.
"What on Earth can he be pulling me over for?" I wondered to myself.
I pulled the car onto the verge by the side of the highway and he pulled in behind me. I should explain at this point that in most countries I've visited if you are stopped by the traffic police you never get out of your car (unless you want to be shouted at). You wait in your car for them to come to you.
It slips my mind that Saudi may be different.
I sat in my car and the policeman sat in his car. Time passed.
I frowned at him through my rear view mirror and I noticed he was fidgeting a bit. I wondered when the hell he was going to come and see me. He stared back at me. He was probably wondering when the hell I was going to go and see him. Time continued to pass.
Eventually he blasted his police siren and realisation dawned on me. I got out of my car and walked over to him. He wound down his window and I decided to shake his hand.
Me: Salaam!
PO: Salaam!
Me: Err, is there a mushkilla officer? (I apologise to all Arabic speakers for my casual butchering of their language. Mushkilla means "problem"....I think)
PO: Istemarah!
Me: Oh… right… umm…
I walked back to my car, retrieved my passport (which I assumed was my Istemarah, but who knows) and my driver's license and walked back to the police car. The lights were still flashing almost blinding me.
Me: Here you are.
PO: (pointing at my car) Car!
Me: Yes, err, it’s a car. I assume he wants my help to check his English vocabulary.
PO: Car! Car!
Me: Yes, it's my car. Well, it’s a leased vehicle actually…..
PO: CAR! CAR!!We looked at each other.
Me: Ohhhh! You want me to go back to my car! Right… well… goodbye then.
I walked back to my car with hunched shoulders and sat down. I called the office to let them know I might be a bit (or perhaps a day) late and squirmed impatiently. I made sure the policeman could see that I was using my mobile in the hope that he might get worried about who I was calling. I hoped he was sitting in his car wondering if I have powerful Wastah (a Mr fix-it/ a man of influence) I sat in my car looking at my phone, and wondered if I did have powerful Wastah...... Damn it, I didnt!
I began to wonder what the arrest sheet would say."Boydell. Pompous git. Arrested for driving a cheap car under the speed limit. Given extra time for bad hair."More time passed. (Note to self: keep a book in the car for just such emergencies!!)
I looked in my rear view mirror. The policeman was chatting on his mobile phone! I wondered who he was talking to. Was he calling his mum to find out when dinner was going to be ready or was he arranging to have a whitey-hating psychopathic prisoner moved to my jail cell?
Time passed. The moon orbited the Earth! Or maybe it's the other way around…. normal laws no longer seemed to apply. I’d been waiting like a dipstick in my car for almost 30 minutes by now!
Next to me on the highway tailgaters, weavers, swervers, sliders and crazies continued to speed on their merry way completely ignored by the policeman.
More time passed and I slowly began to realise that my chances of waiting this long only to be told that I could go free were very slim indeed. I wondered whether I should have behaved differently. Perhaps deference was a bad decision and maybe belligerence might have worked.
Or it might have put me straight into the back of his car in a pair of shiny new handcuffs.
I looked back at him again and my mouth dropped open. He was lighting a cigarette! This was unbelievable! He was sitting there without a care in the world! Was this a post-coital cigarette after royally screwing me? Was it good for him? It wasn't good for me! I wondered whether he'd notice if I just drove back to my flat.
Enough of this I thought and I got out of my car and walked back to him.
Me: So... is there a mushkilla, mate?
PO: Car, car! …one minute.
Me: Ohh… only one more minute? Ok...
I walked back to my car once again and drifted away. I imagined I was a Muslim chap in England with a long beard and that I’d been stopped by the traffic police because I'm a Muslim chap in England with a long beard. The real me commiserated the imaginary me. The imaginary me grinned back and told me to get lost!
I began to fret about what the conditions in the traffic police jail would be like and I realised to my horror that I needed the toilet. I needed a number two! My imagination started to conjure up images of the worst police toilets in the world. The sights! The sounds! Oh god, the smell!! I crossed my legs and began to pray for salvation.
Suddenly behind me he blasted his siren. I looked in my rear view mirror and he looked back at me. His lights were blinding. I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to make contact or just having a laugh so I got back to worrying about the toilet.
He blasted his siren again. I tried to look at him through the rear view mirror but by now his lights had killed my vision. I opened my door and leaned out to see if I could see him. I couldn’t.
I wondered if the police toilet would have a lock on the door. Would there be toilet paper? Why hadn’t I learned how to use that damn hose they have out here next to each toilet?
He blasted his siren again and finally I got out of my car to see if he was trying to get my attention. He was because he was now gesticulating angrily. I'm obviously the most stupid person he has ever stopped. At least now he'd have a story to tell at dinner parties.
I walked back to his car and he handed me a small piece of paper which I looked at dubiously.
PO: Ok!
My passport is nowhere to be seen and the red mist began its inevitable descent. Angrily I opened the piece of paper. The policeman has carefully and neatly folded it around my passport and It struck me as the most considerate and sweet thing anyone had ever done and engendered immediate feelings of warmth towards him. However the feelings didn’t last long because the piece of paper was a traffic violation!
He looked up at me, yanked his seat belt and said "Seat belt!"
I wouldn't even sit in my car in Saudi Arabia without my seat belt on! I value my life too much! I couldn’t believe he was going to fine me for something I blatantly didn't do and something he blatantly could not have seen from behind me anyway!
Me (outraged): Of course I was wearing my seat belt!
PO (sarcastically): Ohh… "of course"!
Me: Yes, of course!
PO: Ok. Bye bye! And he waved me off.
In a daze I walked back to my car, put on my seat belt in the most theatrical manner possible, turned on the engine, indicated and slowly crawled away.
The fine was only SAR 200.00 (about £20) and I have to pay it at a police station today otherwise I wouldn’t be allowed out of the country back to Bahrain.
I think it's time to get a nicer car!!!!
This perhaps was his gravest mistake.
A police car pulled up along side them at a set of traffic lights and the two cops inside stared at their nice car. They stared at their white skin. They gaped at their fair hair. They then pulled them over and tried to find an excuse to give them a ticket. They failed to find a valid reason, so they wrote them a speeding ticket. They gave them a speeding ticket whilst they weren't even moving!
This is the Police in the Magic Kingdom!
If you drive on Al Khobar’s main highways at night you see a large number of cars stopped by unmarked traffic police cars. You don't see a Mercedes or a Porsche stopped as the Police
presume these to be driven by a Prince or at least someone with influence. The majority of the cars pulled over are pick-up trucks or less expensive cars.
Sadly I'm driving the latter kind of car rather than the former.
So it had to happen eventually, didn't it?Very early this morning I drove to work for what I knew would be a long day. I was doing 115 km/h in the middle lane of the highway where the speed limit is 120 km/h when I noticed the car ahead being forced to brake by a weaver.
I changed lanes to avoid the danger and suddenly a silver car pulled right up behind me, tailgating me with barely a yard's gap. I decided to move back into the middle lane to avoid him but he followed me.
Suddenly police lights started flashing and I realised it was an unmarked police car so I moved into the slow lane to allow him to pass but he followed me….. I finally realised that I was being stopped by the police! Outrage and indignation swiftly arrived but were quickly beaten into submission by fear and resignation.
"What on Earth can he be pulling me over for?" I wondered to myself.
I pulled the car onto the verge by the side of the highway and he pulled in behind me. I should explain at this point that in most countries I've visited if you are stopped by the traffic police you never get out of your car (unless you want to be shouted at). You wait in your car for them to come to you.
It slips my mind that Saudi may be different.
I sat in my car and the policeman sat in his car. Time passed.
I frowned at him through my rear view mirror and I noticed he was fidgeting a bit. I wondered when the hell he was going to come and see me. He stared back at me. He was probably wondering when the hell I was going to go and see him. Time continued to pass.
Eventually he blasted his police siren and realisation dawned on me. I got out of my car and walked over to him. He wound down his window and I decided to shake his hand.
Me: Salaam!
PO: Salaam!
Me: Err, is there a mushkilla officer? (I apologise to all Arabic speakers for my casual butchering of their language. Mushkilla means "problem"....I think)
PO: Istemarah!
Me: Oh… right… umm…
I walked back to my car, retrieved my passport (which I assumed was my Istemarah, but who knows) and my driver's license and walked back to the police car. The lights were still flashing almost blinding me.
Me: Here you are.
PO: (pointing at my car) Car!
Me: Yes, err, it’s a car. I assume he wants my help to check his English vocabulary.
PO: Car! Car!
Me: Yes, it's my car. Well, it’s a leased vehicle actually…..
PO: CAR! CAR!!We looked at each other.
Me: Ohhhh! You want me to go back to my car! Right… well… goodbye then.
I walked back to my car with hunched shoulders and sat down. I called the office to let them know I might be a bit (or perhaps a day) late and squirmed impatiently. I made sure the policeman could see that I was using my mobile in the hope that he might get worried about who I was calling. I hoped he was sitting in his car wondering if I have powerful Wastah (a Mr fix-it/ a man of influence) I sat in my car looking at my phone, and wondered if I did have powerful Wastah...... Damn it, I didnt!
I began to wonder what the arrest sheet would say."Boydell. Pompous git. Arrested for driving a cheap car under the speed limit. Given extra time for bad hair."More time passed. (Note to self: keep a book in the car for just such emergencies!!)
I looked in my rear view mirror. The policeman was chatting on his mobile phone! I wondered who he was talking to. Was he calling his mum to find out when dinner was going to be ready or was he arranging to have a whitey-hating psychopathic prisoner moved to my jail cell?
Time passed. The moon orbited the Earth! Or maybe it's the other way around…. normal laws no longer seemed to apply. I’d been waiting like a dipstick in my car for almost 30 minutes by now!
Next to me on the highway tailgaters, weavers, swervers, sliders and crazies continued to speed on their merry way completely ignored by the policeman.
More time passed and I slowly began to realise that my chances of waiting this long only to be told that I could go free were very slim indeed. I wondered whether I should have behaved differently. Perhaps deference was a bad decision and maybe belligerence might have worked.
Or it might have put me straight into the back of his car in a pair of shiny new handcuffs.
I looked back at him again and my mouth dropped open. He was lighting a cigarette! This was unbelievable! He was sitting there without a care in the world! Was this a post-coital cigarette after royally screwing me? Was it good for him? It wasn't good for me! I wondered whether he'd notice if I just drove back to my flat.
Enough of this I thought and I got out of my car and walked back to him.
Me: So... is there a mushkilla, mate?
PO: Car, car! …one minute.
Me: Ohh… only one more minute? Ok...
I walked back to my car once again and drifted away. I imagined I was a Muslim chap in England with a long beard and that I’d been stopped by the traffic police because I'm a Muslim chap in England with a long beard. The real me commiserated the imaginary me. The imaginary me grinned back and told me to get lost!
I began to fret about what the conditions in the traffic police jail would be like and I realised to my horror that I needed the toilet. I needed a number two! My imagination started to conjure up images of the worst police toilets in the world. The sights! The sounds! Oh god, the smell!! I crossed my legs and began to pray for salvation.
Suddenly behind me he blasted his siren. I looked in my rear view mirror and he looked back at me. His lights were blinding. I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to make contact or just having a laugh so I got back to worrying about the toilet.
He blasted his siren again. I tried to look at him through the rear view mirror but by now his lights had killed my vision. I opened my door and leaned out to see if I could see him. I couldn’t.
I wondered if the police toilet would have a lock on the door. Would there be toilet paper? Why hadn’t I learned how to use that damn hose they have out here next to each toilet?
He blasted his siren again and finally I got out of my car to see if he was trying to get my attention. He was because he was now gesticulating angrily. I'm obviously the most stupid person he has ever stopped. At least now he'd have a story to tell at dinner parties.
I walked back to his car and he handed me a small piece of paper which I looked at dubiously.
PO: Ok!
My passport is nowhere to be seen and the red mist began its inevitable descent. Angrily I opened the piece of paper. The policeman has carefully and neatly folded it around my passport and It struck me as the most considerate and sweet thing anyone had ever done and engendered immediate feelings of warmth towards him. However the feelings didn’t last long because the piece of paper was a traffic violation!
He looked up at me, yanked his seat belt and said "Seat belt!"
I wouldn't even sit in my car in Saudi Arabia without my seat belt on! I value my life too much! I couldn’t believe he was going to fine me for something I blatantly didn't do and something he blatantly could not have seen from behind me anyway!
Me (outraged): Of course I was wearing my seat belt!
PO (sarcastically): Ohh… "of course"!
Me: Yes, of course!
PO: Ok. Bye bye! And he waved me off.
In a daze I walked back to my car, put on my seat belt in the most theatrical manner possible, turned on the engine, indicated and slowly crawled away.
The fine was only SAR 200.00 (about £20) and I have to pay it at a police station today otherwise I wouldn’t be allowed out of the country back to Bahrain.
I think it's time to get a nicer car!!!!
1 comment:
Hi
Your story was interesting to read. Can i just ask you to remove the comment underneath the saudi flag because its offensive to Islam.
Thanks
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