So I was over at Manta, Ecuador this Monday helping my aunt (who runs a tourism operator here) with this big cruise ship operation. The job is not bad. You get paid a flat rate for the whole day (which is pretty steep by Ecuadorian standards) and have all of your food and travel expenses paid. The hours sort of suck though. And so do the uniforms. Which is how I ended up iron-clad in khaki from head to toe (big, baggy khaki shorts and a big, baggy khaki polo) that was only made worse by the fact that they made us wear bright orange vests with reflector stripes and a hard hat. We looked like awkward, sleepy traffic cones at 7 am as we walked onto the docks. Apparently it is a dock safety measure in case something like a container full of Tuna is dropped on your head. Granted, having a hard hat might give you a higher survival rate...but really, it is a container full of tuna.
Traffic cones are a sore subject for me anyways because there's the traffic cone story.
It goes like this:
My dad and I went to pick up an airline ticket at the airline office. Now, the airline office is near the airport, which is smack in the middle of the city (highly impractical) and so there's a lot of traffic and NO place to park. I was driving the family Land Rover and my dad told me to parallel park next to the sidewalk in front of the airline office while he ducked in for a minute to see if we could pick up the ticket there. There were a few traffic cones lined up next to the sidewalk. Normally, this would mean that you can't park there. But the cones were really spaced apart, as in, they looked like they were marking parking spots more than anything. And I asked my dad before parking and he said I should. So he ducks in, and comes back out a minute later and says we need to pick it up elsewhere. So I pull out of the space and get back into traffic. I hadn't really advanced more than a few meters when I got stuck behind a red light. I looked through my rearview mirror and saw a police officer frantically waving his hands and jumping up and down, signaling me to pull over.
I'm kinda nervous at this point because I'm like: What did I do wrong???? I just pulled out of a parking space?
I obey the police's request and pull over. And that's when it begins.
I roll down the window, he comes up and asks me for my license and registration. I calmly hand it over to him. He checks them and scowls.
I had a feeling he was trying to catch me on a driving without a license thing. I'm 22 (and was 20 at the time) but look like I'm about 15 and police officers here sometimes target young female drivers since they have this dumb misconception that we're worse drivers. Anyways, I ask him what happened and then instead of answering, he walks off with my license and taps on the passenger seat window where my dad is sitting. Dad rolls the window down and the officer says
"You want to get off and see what your little girl did?"
And that's what ticks me off. At this point I'm feeling angry and afraid (I'm sitting there, scared shitless). I ask the officer to tell me what happened. Again he ignores me, so my dad gets off and follows the officer. I watch through the rearview mirror as the officer is pointing angrily at something in the floor and my dad is trying really really hard not to laugh.
At this point, I'm just terrified and confused. Did I run someone over? But why is my dad laughing?
They come back to the front. The police officer shows up by my window and is like "Well, looks like I'll have to dock 7 points from your license".
And all I can say is "Points? Since when does my license have POINTS?"
The police officer says, "It is your job to keep track of the legal system concerning driving laws. A license has 12 points and you get points taken off for several offenses."
And I say, "Well, what did I do that deserves to get my license have 7 points docked from it???"
And he says, "3rd-class traffic offense."
I say, "Meaning?"
My dad, half-laughing, chimes in. "You knocked down a traffic cone".
I just stare at the police officer flabbergasted. "Did I break the cone?"
He says, "No. The cone is fine. But that's a 3rd-class offense."
I say, "But SEVEN points? For KNOCKING it DOWN?"
He says, "Yes. It is blatant disregard of a traffic signal and aggression against a traffic officer." (In fact, knocking down that cone was the equivalent of running a police officer over with the car)
Me: "But it is a cone. And it is fine."
Police: "Miss, if you insist on arguing the subject further, I will confiscate your license as you are obviously a very dangerous driver."
At this point, I'm close to tears - of anger and fear. My dad steps in, takes the officer aside and reasons with him.
A few minutes later, the officer gives me back the license and lets me off with a warning.
I go back into traffic. I get stuck at the red light again.
As I'm stuck there, I see three cars ahead of me run the red light.
Really?
What the hell Quito Police Force?
You stop me to dock 7 points from my license for accidentally knocking down a traffic cone that was really hard to see, right next to the curb, and whose purpose was not clear and you have the audacity to call me an unsafe driver, and yet you let 3 other cars RUN A RED LIGHT???
Wtf?
Anyways, my dad teases me a lot about that episode. Whenever we pass a traffic cone while I'm driving, he'll point at it and shout "Officer Cone down!" as I grumble under my breath.
