So I'm on my way to an injury crash on one of the busiest thoroughfares in Small City, and as I come over the freeway overpass, I can see the fire trucks and the ambulance up ahead on the other side of the road. I come to a stop for a red light about 1/4 mile from the crash, and two guys in an old Toyota truck, rattle-can painted camo, start waving from the next lane over, trying to get my attention. Whatever this is, I have a feeling it isn't good.
"Yes?" (as I roll down my window)
"I have a fix-it ticket I need signed off."
"Can't do it. I'm on my way to a crash. Right up there." (as I point down the street)
"Great! We'll follow you over!" (you have got to be freakin' kidding.)
"NO, you will not follow me over. Go to the Police Station and have someone do it there."
Yeah, you can follow me to the crash, because we all know I've got nothing else to do right now, and it would take you a whole ten minutes or so to drive to the PD. "Excuse me, ma'am, I know you're bleeding and all, but let me sign off this ticket. Just be a minute."
Unbelievable.
