I am from the very small islands of Bermuda. I look like I might have arrived here in Spain as though I first travelled across the Sahara Desert, and then across the Mediterranean by motorboat. This has been the cause of some problems for me. Not many, but enough to give me some idea of what those who do come via this route must suffer. That’s another story for another time.
On a number of occasions I have been processed through police document checkpoints as a motorist. It’s also fair to say that at other times I have been given a pass, when other people have been stopped. When the police are doing a random stop and check I expect to have to stop, but the simple notation on my windscreen often is enough to suggest that I have at least had my car passed by ITV. This is important because in the United States, it seems as though the police are chosen because of their stupid quotient.
The stories are legend of well dressed, law abiding black men who have been pulled over to the side of the road and put through the grind, when they are doctors and lawyers who are highly successful. Although these facts are obvious to the police, it seems that they do these things just to denigrate their victims. So, it is important to reflect that Spanish police have an entirely different attitude. It is my experience that authority here is very professional.
However, that does not entirely exclude the police from having great expectations when they do pull me over. It may simply be my imagination, but it seems to me that as I drive into the collecting area there is a sense that they have got the Big one. This is an immigrant, so it follows that something will not be right in his documentation. Call the grua. (Tow truck)
My last encounter was on a Friday night. They were stationed at the entrance to my estate. As I pulled up they requested to see my driver’s license. They took that and called the details through to verify that my license, that is Spanish was a true document. Many people pay extortionate amounts of money for forgeries. In such a moment of truth as this, these are of no value at all if they are Spanish.
Next, I was asked to open my boot to give them a look inside. The reason for this is twofold. On Fridays and Saturdays the police are on special lookout for people who have been out drinking and driving. The other purpose is to see just what I might be carrying. I have the right to question them for a justification, but if I don’t have anything to hide other than a messy boot, I simply let them have a look to satisfy their idle curiosity, and to show them that I was not staggering about.
With that, we exchanged a few pleasantries, and they didn’t even ask to see my car’s documentation. (That was all in order as well.) I was given an apology for any trouble that I experienced, which was no trouble at all, and I was on my way home.
However, their sense of disappointment was so palpable that I could feel it. I have had this sense on other occasions because they are so sure that I was an “immigrant” and not likely to be completely covered. At least they are learning not to judge a book by its cover.
One more thing: Just imagine had I been drinking and was over the limit, and that I made it that close to home?
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