My license expired recently, and as per usual I went to the DMV to renew it. This is always a nerve wracking experience for me, as I despise crowds of people, as well as the white tile in Government buildings. I sat out in my car for about twenty minutes trying my best to mentally prepare for the slow, and arduous experience of having to stand in line. I dreaded the process of having to stand in front of everyone to have my picture taken. Am I supposed to smile? Should I be frowning? After all, if a police officer pulls me over, I won’t be happy about it.
After taking a deep breath, and hugging my emotional support stuffed animal, I lumbered inside. I could feel the shaking of my hand as I grasped the door, and pulled with as much force as I could. Those doors are always so heavy. I shuffled up to the line, and took a look around trying to acclimate, when I saw him. A stocky white male in a leather jacket. A leather jacket adorned with different bands I had never heard of. Something about this jacket caught my eye. On his right sleeve was a patch that featured lightening bolts, that were made famous by the Nazi SS in World War Two.
I immediately felt my heart hit my throat. I started panting, as I felt a single drop of sweat form on my brow. The veins in my neck bulged. Was he really here? Was this a figment of my imagination? Why was no one doing anything about this? I had to get out of here, and fast. As it is well known today, so much as standing near a Nazi makes you one by proximity. I immediately was hit by flashes of images. Proud Boys, and Stickman. They were vivid, though only for a second. The last image that hit was of me, in a Fred Perry shirt slapping a woman across the face. It was then that I snapped. I screamed to high hell, and bolted for the door. I nearly knocked over a small child on my way out. Or maybe I did, and it was so fast that I don’t remember if the young boy hit the ground. I did not stop to look at anything, or talk to anyone. Fumbling for my keys, I got into my car and squeezed my stuffed animal practically in half.
I could not go back in there. I had to get as far away as possible. I turned the keys, and drove. I did not care which direction I was going in so long as it was away from there. I drove for about five minutes, when flashing lights appeared behind me. My heart, which had finally calmed was immediately back up in my throat tickling my uvula. I stopped.
The officer approached my car, and asked for my license, and registration. I told him I had not been drinking, and would not answer any questions with out my lawyer present. He said that is no matter, with a stern expression on his face. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pad, and pen. A red pad. Scrawling onto the paper, he then tore the page out, and handed it to me. “You are receiving a ticket for driving with an expired license. You have thirty days to pay the fine.”
Upon explaining to him my predicament, he said it is none of his business. He told me that my license was expired, and he does not care for any excuses. It was clear what this was. This was a shake down for denying hatred, and bigotry in America. The police were defending their brother in xenophobia. Cops, and Klan really do go hand in hand. For those of you who are wondering what to look out for out there, I was able to find a picture of the patch he was wearing online. Stay safe, and be on the look out.
Geoffrey Bernberg is a blogger with NPC Daily, and freelance journalist covering a range of topics concerning hate in America, and life with emotional support animals. Send inquiries to GeoBerg91@protonmail.com
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