ROUTINE TRAFFIC STOP

AISHA is driving on Montgomery Avenue and changes lanes suddenly to pass an old lady in a Prius. She fails to signal. A Lower Merion patrol car chirps behind her and she pulls over to the side of the road, whispering “fuck.” The COP is at least 6 feet tall, in his mid 20s, with thick, wavy brown hair, and has an easy confident manner.

COP: Do you know why I stopped you?

AISHA: Because I’m black?

COP: [perplexed] What? No, erratic driving. License and registration, please. [AISHA hands over license]

AISHA: OK, but take a look at this. [picks up iPhone and starts tapping away. Holds phone up and shows COP an old photo on Ancestry.com]

COP: Who’s that? 

AISHA: My great grandfather. Clearly he was black. See for yourself.

COP: [studying photo] He’s…he’s got curly dark hair, kind of swarthy. I’m not sure if he’s…Have you ever heard of Black Irish, Mrs. O’Connor?

AISHA: [lowering her voice, conspiratorially] How did you find out about us?

COP: [reading off license, looking at AISHA] You don’t look black.

AISHA: Ever hear of the “one drop” rule?

COP: [exasperated] OK, registration, please.

AISHA: Funny story. I was deathly ill for two months and didn’t have the energy to get it.

COP: It’s online. You get on the computer and download to print.

AISHA: I don’t have a printer?

COP: So get your husband to do it.

AISHA: [voice breaking] I don’t have a husband, or a boyfriend. It’s just me and my kids.

COP: No boyfriend?

AISHA: [smiling coyly and batting eyelashes as she looks up at COP] No….

COP: Well, I’m sorry to hear that you were sick and nobody wants you.

AISHA: [defensively] Plenty of guys want me, but have you seen what’s out there? [crumples up face in disgust and sticks out tongue]

COP: So you’re black and bitter. [glances at windshield missing inspection stickers] No current inspection…What’s up with that?

AISHA: I just told you, I was sick when it expired in February.

COP: What about getting it done in January? Or March?

AISHA: First of all, I procrastinate. January was out of the question. And in March, I was recovering from my illness.

COP: And now it’s the end of April.

AISHA: Yes. I am still on my recovery journey.

COP: Right. You’re in recovery from recovering. [sarcastically]

AISHA: You could say that. It’s in the back.

COP: What’s in the back?

AISHA: My old inspection stickers.

COP: [opens back door and sees cut portion of windshield with expired stickers. He picks it up to examine it] What happened to the rest of the windshield?

AISHA: It had a huge crack and had to be replaced.

COP: Bad luck. [he leans into the driver’s window and places the inspection plaque on the dashboard] There. That’ll do for now.

AISHA: [hopefully] It will?

COP: No. Get it done soon, ok?

AISHA: Yes, sir, officer…[she squints to read his name tag] Dwyer?

COP: Correct.

AISHA: [delightedly] Cousin!

COP: So… we’re looking at erratic driving. Expired registration. Overdue inspection. That’s multiple tickets. [he pulls out a device and starts writing the ticket]

AISHA: Wait a minute [she starts lifting her shirt].

COP: KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!!

AISHA: Jesus Christ! I was trying to get my tits where you could see them!

COP: [quietly] Just keep your hands down. [continues to write ticket]

AISHA: [leans toward the passenger seat and starts rummaging through a large tote bag] Are you hungry? I have chocolate covered almonds, a banana, and Sour Patch Kids. [lifts up the bag of candy] I save these for my blood sugar, but I’ll share them with you. If you’re nice [smiling shyly]

COP: I don’t want candy. Put that banana away. 

AISHA: You like cottage cheese? I have leftovers from lunch. Blueberries, too.

COP: I am writing you this ticket.

AISHA: Wait! You’re really going to do this to a single mother, alone, and with cankles?

COP: [puzzled] What are cankles?

AISHA: “Where does the calf fat end and the ankle fat begin?”

COP: I don’t get it.

AISHA: Bill Clinton? Family Guy?

COP: Don’t watch it.

AISHA: I’ll show you [moves her seat back, pulls up her left pant leg, and sticks her foot out the window where COP is standing]

COP: [in horror, recoiling] That’s disgusting!

AISHA: I know, right? I can’t even go to the gym, they hurt so bad.

COP: I can see why you don’t have a boyfriend.

AISHA: [angrily] Hey! These are temporary. They’ll go away when I recover from recovering.

COP: Single mom, huh? How much did that Lululemon tote bag cost?

AISHA: Well, I do get some child support. But not that much.

COP: How much?

AISHA: Only $4000 a month.

COP: [resumes writing ticket] That’s my salary, miss.

AISHA: Wait!

COP: What is it now?

AISHA: Thank you.

COP: For what?

AISHA: For not calling me “ma’am.” I hate that. It makes me feel old.

COP: You don’t look old.

AISHA: I don’t. How old are you?

COP: I’m 25.

AISHA: Jesus Christ.

COP: Yeah, my mom is younger than you.

AISHA: You really know how to make a girl feel special [she shifts her weight and adjusts the torn piece of cardboard resting on the driver’s seat].

COP: [noticing said cardboard] What’s that?

AISHA: What’s what? [looking down at cardboard] Oh, this! That’s my gum barrier.

COP: Your what barrier?

AISHA: Funny story. I lost a piece of gum I was chewing and somehow it landed on the seat. Then I sat on it on accident and it ended up on my butt. 

COP: So the gum is still there?

AISHA: Yes. Hence the barrier. It’s patented, by the way, no one else has it.

COP: [puzzled, examining the interior of the car like a detective]] How did the gum…get from your mouth..to the seat…?

AISHA: [shrugs]

COP: [closes ticket book, sighing] Never mind. OK, Miss O’Connor, I’m going to let you go today with a warning. Clearly you’re a crazy person, and who knows where this brief encounter could lead. Let’s end this now.

AISHA: Thank you, thank you! [briefly bowing head in supplication, bringing hands together in prayer] Can I go?

COP: You can go. [AISHA starts car] Wait!

AISHA: What?

COP: Show me your tits.

AISHA: [sighing as she lifts up her shirt]