WRITTEN ON December 2nd, 2004 BY William Heath AND STORED IN Uncategorized

Ha! A definite encounter tonight. Brief and unremarkable on the outside, but perhaps laden with significance.

Bit of a shaggy dog intro. I had supper with two complete strangers in a friend’s house. They poured me a tumbler (sic) of wine. Knowing I had to drive but not wanting to give offence I sneaked some of it back into the bottle (tiny spillage) sipped a bit, and slipped the rest down the sink, then rushed off late to collect my son. I pulled out “POB” (as the minicabs say) on to Castelnau – a long straight road, technically well suited to my car manufacturer’s top design speed of 135mph but with the cultural norms of any place with street lights. I asked my son to make a phone call to say we were late and to unwrap sweets for us….

Two men in luminous plastic jackets next to a large SUV with lemon-curd and blue markings waved a red light at me. I pulled over, curious, and asked what their story was. They showed great interest in the fact I was driving rather slowly, around 20mph in fact (they seemed to have already decided this using some sort of video camera). They said “it could be a sign of…” and indicated tilting their throats back and pointing their thumbs into them…”I’m not saying you were, mind…”

They were perfectly courteous and showed concern that one of my headlamps had failed (Volvos always blow bulbs because they have zillions of lights you can never turn off).

That was it.

On reflection if I had drunk the booze or made the mobile phone call or engaged the turbocharger thrust with a two inch movement of my big toe I might at this very moment be on a prolonged and involuntary anthropological journey into the rituals beyond traffic offences (jail? producing papers? or just a simple Verordnungswidrigkeit wegen Geschwindigkeitsbeschraenkungueberschreitung as the speeding ticket I once got in Germany was called). But it was not to be.

We’re still shadow boxing here, but there’s definitely something out there.

The Wibbi?

I dont know. Not to be stopped in the first place I suppose. But it was harmless and perfectly courteous.

Weird postscript – I dreamed the night before this happened I was stopped for drunk driving. Is there a shamanic power in bureaucracy that gives people precognition of routine administrative encounters?