Sometimes simple words have the power to untangle a tangle of opinions, resolve problems, and bring to an end an hour-long polemic that seemed to never end. This realization gripped me last week on the outskirts of the city of Modi'in, in a fascinating discussion with a policeman named Azoulay.
Azoulay's argument was simple and exhaustive: I overtook a car when my field of vision was limited.
Why is it limited, I said, I had a wonderful field of vision, I saw everything, it wasn't limited at all.
Azoulay insisted that it was limited, and I repeated that the field of vision, at least, was not limited. But then Azoulay looked at me and said, you know what, maybe I'll give you a report and then you'll realize that your field of vision was probably really limited?
It was one of those rare moments when realization hits you and the picture unfolds before you all at once: Right, I said to Azoulay, now that you say it that way, I really notice that my field of vision was limited, how limited, it didn't exist at all. Azoulay nodded, and I was enthusiastic. In fact, that's how I explained to him, the field of vision and the location where I overtook the car are as far apart as Ehud Barak and Gabi Ashkenazi, as Olmert and long-term plans, as the terrorists and the haters.
Azoulay just said: You've made your point, shut up and fly away from here.
Why do we experience an embarrassing regression, turning into brainless children every time we encounter a police officer? Why do we skip a beat when a police car is spotted nearby? Maybe because we are all petty criminals just waiting for the moment to be arrested.
A police car drives by, inside of it sits a fat, sweaty policeman, who keeps laughing with his wife about the convoy of cars following them at 90 kilometers per hour. From time to time, the policeman slows down, to his wife's delight, and the group of spineless thugs react accordingly.
At one point, the first brave man breaks through and overtakes the police car at a top speed of 95 km/h. He is of course looking ahead intently, careful not to look in the direction of the policeman - a visionary is a rare sight up the road.
The policeman driving the car usually doesn't have the mental strength to deal with the fool, but sometimes for sport he is able to press the special, loud horn, and the brave man responds with a series of physiological reactions, which become especially distressing against the background of the screams of the woman sitting next to him: I told you not to mess with them, I told you, but you're smart.
In general, the combination of a woman, a police officer, and a report is particularly fascinating.
With the police signal instructing the car to stop at the side of the road, the woman says: Let me talk, he will listen to the woman.
But then a policewoman arrives who hates women of her own sex and writes a report that mentions the annual budget of the neighborhood community center. A policewoman came to my good friend Aryeh's window, and both of them, that is, the policewoman and Aryeh, were surprised to hear the woman applaud and say to the policewoman: Well done. Give him a report. He drives like a madman. I was waiting for the day someone would stop him.
The policeman looked at Aryeh's wife, as if he had been hurt, and said to Aryeh quietly: Brother, I swear I didn't see anything like that, you are free.
Dealing with a police officer is actually divided into two groups of people: the indifferent who dryly hand the policeman their documents, and the beggars who briefly tell the policeman their life stories, which include disability, orphanhood, widowhood, bereavement, bankruptcy, and illnesses whose names are forbidden. Job 2014 version.
The difference between the two groups is particularly significant: the indifferent receive the report immediately, the beggars receive it 6 minutes later.
There is another difference between the two groups: the moments after receiving the report.
The indifferent ones hurry to leave the area, the beggars move on to Plan B, which includes threats against the police officer (you weren't wearing your hat when you filed the report), underworld semantics (we'll meet in court, you don't know who you arrested), and empty promises (I won't pay this report. Never).
Here too, the difference between the two groups boils down to the element of timing: the indifferent pay immediately, the beggars pay immediately after the trial.
Another population belongs to the group of scholars.
The policeman says: You drove backwards (reverse) on a one-way road unnecessarily. I'm writing you a fine of 250 NIS. And the Ponivez graduate says boldly: Why unnecessarily, I had a great need. Who are you to determine for me what my need is. I have needs.
The teacher manages to undermine the policeman's confidence, who returns to the car, makes a phone call, rummages through papers, looks through a stack of thin booklets, and finally returns and announces: You're right, I was wrong. The fine is 500 NIS.
One against a hundred
Unlike trivia quizzes, a correct answer may not always be helpful: "Do you know why I stopped you?" a skinny red-haired police officer with hundreds of old scars on his face asked me. "Yes," I replied, "because I didn't signal.".
""No," said the redhead.
""Maybe because I didn't turn on the lights during this time of winter"? I tried.
""Neither," said the redhead, "just to check documents, but I have to say you've raised some interesting points.".
By the way, I was also missing the insurance form. The redhead closed a nice package deal with me. Overall, he left satisfied.
The fate of drivers who enjoy connections in the police hierarchy is different. They immediately say to the policeman who stops them: "Do you know Yogev Ivri from the Yarkon region?" He is my brother-in-law, which is a somewhat puzzling statement when it comes from the mouth of Hasidic Vizhnitz with Halet, who tells of a brother-in-law named Yogev.
In any case, in most cases the policeman does not know, and he continues to write the report, while being sincerely interested in knowing who Yogev Ivri is. In the rare cases in which he does know Yogev, he does stop giving the report to the driver's apparent delight, but then he makes it difficult: "Of course he does. Do you think Yogev would agree that you would behave like that? If Yogev were here, he would tell me to give you a higher fine.".
It's a bit hard to argue with this statement, coming from someone who probably knows the anonymous Yogev really well.
In rare events that finally reach the news sites, it turns out that the fabrication in the form of the flourishing of Yogev Ivri's name came at a high price, since the policeman beyond the window is, he is, Yogev Ivri.
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