Forum Overview :: Tales of the Sword Coast :: A brief brush with the police

[quote name="Quétinbec"]A few months ago, I hit a parked car as I was reversing out of my apartment carpark. No one saw me do it, and the car I hit was painted, stickered, and 'adorned' gayly, so I assumed it was owned by an American and I drove to work without much guilt. At work though, once I had time to inspect the damage, I saw that I'd scraped quite a bit of his paint onto my car, and vice-versa. This was incriminating because I was one of the few navy blue cars in our lot and it would stand out like anything on his white paint. That night when I returned from work, instead of parking in my regular spot, I hid my car in the desert and walked the short distance to the apartments. My car needed to be taken in for servicing anyway, so I called Budget and told them to come and swap it, which they promised to do the next day. I didn't request any particular colour, because I thought the odds of me ending up with another navy blue car were too low. Basically, the plan was to hide my car in the desert until Budget came to swap it for one in a colour that wouldn't incriminate me (just like GTA!!). The problem was that my plan relied on the Indians at Budget, and as anyone with a bit of life experience will tell you, Indians, as the scum of the earth, will fuck you over at any opportunity. So, day after day the Indians made excuses for why they couldn't pick up my car. For about 5 days I had to hide my car in the desert after work. Then, on the last day, one of the Indians from my apartment carpark came out about half way to where I was parking my car. It was strange to see him and it freaked me out when he said, "Sir, why don't you park in your regular spot?" I told him because my friend was going to park there. It was a poor lie. Then he smiled and asked if he could wash my car. These car park Indians basically live in carparks and make their living washing sand off your car. They give half their pittance to the apartment owners. I'd been very firm with them for months about them not washing my car, so for him to suddenly start asking again was very strange. He went off, but despite me thinking it was strange, I wasn't worried. Later that night, an Arab came to my door. His English was shit. I thought he was trying to sell me an international phone card. He kept saying what I thought was, "Do you have a blue card?" but he looked nervous so I didn't fear him or suspect anything. I told him I didn't understand and said goodbye. When I went to shut my door he yelled, "YOU CRASH MY CAR!!!" and my heart dropped through my ass. I still don't know who dobbed me in. I imagine he went to my landlord who would've put him onto the Indians, who would've dobbed me in. I guess when the Indian came up to me in the desert and questioned me, and I turned down his offer to clean my car, he thought, "Fuck it. I'm dobbing this guy in." Fucking niggers. If he had asked for a bribe to shut up about it, I would have paid, but he even didn't have the balls. To be fair, though, if he'd asked me for a bribe, I would have dobbed him in to the landlord before I leave in August. Anyway, I thought this Arab guy would be furious because I'd been going to great lengths to hide from him and he'd caught me red handed, and I had absolutely no excuse. What the fuck could I say? But awkwardly, he wasn't upset. He invited me out for dinner and to go racing in the weekend (!!) and then asked if I could claim responsibility for a number of other dints in his car so he could get them all patched up on my insurance :(. The moral of the story is fuck Indians AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY. I did the ol' coat-the-car-in-sand-before-returning-it-at-night-at-the-distant-poorly-lit-end-of-the-airport-parking-lot-so-they-can't-spot-the-new-dints-and-scratches trick, which is always successful in every country. Then I flew to Taiwan to meet the girl of my dreams. THE END. [/quote]