Last night, some asshole from Maryland (yes, MARYLAND, you are the WORST drivers I’ve ever had to share the road with,) sideswiped poor Speedracer and drove off. Of course. Of fucking course. I called our useless police department, and here we go with another installment in my sometimes revered though much despised by crazy right-wingers who threaten my life series, “D.C. Cops Suck Ass.”

6:09 p.m.
Operator: Hello, 311?
Velvet: Someone just hit my car and drove off.
Operator: Do you need an ambulance?
Velvet: No.
Operator: Let me get your name and information and I’ll have the next officer dispatched out to your location.

I gave the information and asked if they can just come to my house as it is right around the corner. They said no, because it was in another district. So I parked and waited.

6:20 p.m.
Operator: Hello, 311?
Velvet: I just called in a hit and run and wanted to see if the cop has been dispatched.
Operator: He has. Where are you?
Velvet: In front of the CVS with my hazards on.
Operator: Okay, that’s what we told them, you’re in a Speedracer?
Velvet: Yes.
Operator: He’s on his way.

6:33 p.m.
Operator: Hello, 311?
Velvet: I was told an officer was on his way to my location for a hit and run, but I haven’t seen him yet. I wanted to make sure he didn’t miss me.
Operator: No, he’s still in route.
Velvet: Thanks.

6:45 p.m.
Operator: Hello, 311?
Velvet: I’m waiting for an officer to come out for a hit and run.
Operator: He was there and he said you weren’t there so he left.
Velvet: I’ve been exactly where you told me to stay.
Operator: Did you see a cop come by?
Velvet: Not one.
Operator: Well he left. You can walk in to the station if you want and file a report.
Velvet: Where’s that?
Operator: 3320 Idaho Avenue.
Velvet: Fine.

I head home, have my condo board meeting, go to the gym at 9:00 and run for 45 minutes to burn off my steam before facing the po-po. I drive up to the station at 10:15 last night. On walking in and going up to the desk, an officer turns around, sees me, I say hi, he turns back around and continues pecking away on the computer. I wait about 10 minutes, before flipping my lid, because in addition to watching him on his computer, I can hear a very Law & Order script-worthy conversation going on in the back, discussing the merits of orange soda over grape, and how long they have to be in the refrigerator before they are cold.

I scream, “HELLO???”

Some officer waddles out and I explain my story. She says, “Why didn’t you stay at the scene?” I said, “I did, and he never showed up, so they told me to come here and file the complaint.” She said, “Well I can take a damage to property, but that’s about all. There’s nothing we can do.” I said, “So, a guy hits me, I get his plate, he drives off, and there’s nothing you can do?” She said, “Yes. That’s right.”

Of course not. I leaned over and saw there was a stack of complaint forms, where you can file an incident report against an officer. These will come in handy at some point I’m sure. I grabbed half the stack and walked out. I couldn’t hate these useless D.C. cops anymore if they anally raped my dog.

I go back outside and call 311, telling them of their obvious blunder, and tell them to send an officer now. She agrees (after checking with her supervisor) and I return to the “scene of the crime.” The officer arrives, and tells me that he waited “right here at this spot for an hour.” I said, “Um, no I was here and didn’t see you.” You could tell he was pulling the ‘tude, and saying there was also another officer waiting as well, back a few cars. Yeah, and I was there from 6:10 until 6:45 and there was NOT ONE COP there. So, writes my info down. I give him the plate number of the asshole who hit me and he said, wait, are you ready for it?

“Yeah, I can’t do anything with that.”

Velvet: But, I got his plate, you can’t run it and find out who he is?
Cop: No.

He gets in his car to do whatever he had to do, and then his friends pull up alongside him and they proceed to chat for 10 minutes while I’m waiting there. Arrgh!!!!! He gives me some report number and tells me to tell my insurance to take care of it. Yeah, great, so that they can raise my rates even though it is the other guy’s fault? Sure. Ninja called while I was sitting there and I told him what happened, and he said, “You can’t make this stuff up. How come on Law and Order they can run a plate, but here in D.C. they can’t?”

Exactly. Because here in D.C., our police department is a bunch of lazy, useless, inept, couldn’t-find-a-criminal if they were sitting next to them, system abusing, power hungry, donut eating, newspaper reading, coffee drinking, double parking, traffic blocking, gossiping, overnight shift sleeping, disability for “work related” stress filing, money drain on our taxes.