What Happens In Vegas...

So this is the story of how I ended up on an FBI major crimes database and got cuffed and detained by Homeland Security while trying to re-enter the US from Canada after visiting Vancouver.

Back in 2008, I DJ'd over in Los Angeles.  Sharon came and we stayed out there for a couple of weeks.  We took the opportunity to hire a car and head up to Vegas for a few days.

The road trip along the I-15 is epic; miles and miles of desert landscape and rolling hills either side of the road.  I remember blasting out Californication on the stereo and, conversely, a psy-trance CD with some new stuff by Ephexis, who had played at the same event in LA.  Somehow both suited the drive perfectly.

The road itself is one of the longest, straightest, most open roads I've ever seen.  Looking back now it was much more fun to drive on than many of the other roads here, which generally have more potholes than the surface of the moon and serve up more roadkill than the Red Hot Buffet in Milton Keynes.

Anyway, all of the above clearly contributed to my being in full "Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas" mindset (minus the mescaline) and I might have been doing slightly over the odds on the speed front.

Suddenly, a state trooper materialised out of nowhere and his lights quickly filled my rear view mirror. I moved over from the fast lane to let him pass so he could carry on in pursuit of whichever criminal he was after.  The fact that he changed lanes along with me and got so close behind me that I could virtually read the nametag his mum had sewn into his government issue underwear told me I was, in fact, that criminal.  I pulled over.

After fumbling for my documents and being forced to look at the screen of his radar device which proved conclusively that I was as much of an idiot as he claimed I was, he wrote me a ticket.

He handed it to me and explained that if he did me for the speed I was doing, I'd have to stay and appear in court, so he was only going to cite me for 80, which meant that I could go home, stop worrying about it and just keep the ticket as a souvenir or forget about it altogether.

Hang on, that doesn't sound right.  I remember now, what he actually said was that I had to make sure I contacted Nevada Justice Court when I got home, who would tell me how much I had to pay to settle the fine.

Well somehow I never managed to get hold of them, and it turns out that the state of Nevada has a very long, albeit selective, memory.  So 5 years later, having travelled to the USA several times since, successfully secured a 6 month visa for this trip, and made 4 border crossings between the US and Canada while on the trip, I found myself feeling slightly confused when the border guard subtly called for backup after I handed him my passport at the gate.

Two men came over and asked me politely to exit the vehicle and turn around.  Instinctively I put my arms out to the sides, expecting a quick pat-down before a routine search of the vehicle.  When they pulled my arms behind my back and I heard the cuffs click shut, I realised things were going in a slightly different direction.

Now believe it or not, I'm not actually a violent criminal.  And I don't have THAT many outstanding warrants in any country, so the first thing that sprung to mind was the unpaid speeding ticket.  Though I had to wonder why such extreme measures were being taken for a relatively minor transgression.  Especially when they led me into the building to a secure area and one of them went to remove the cuffs, at which point his colleague said "Are you sure you want to do that?".

The first guard changed his mind and asked if I was able to sit down with my hands cuffed behind my back.  I had to be honest and say that I'd never tried it.  I gave it a go and found that, technically, I could.  That seemed to satisfy them and they went off to try and figure out which dangerous fugitive they had captured.

What followed was a lot of waiting.

It's at times like these that you're guaranteed to suddenly need the toilet, and this was no exception.  As I was pondering why these things always happen at the most inconvenient times, my brain decided I might need some more examples of the phenomenon, and made my nose itch furiously.  Bear this in mind the next time you're watching Police Camera Action and you see some crazy looking guy twitching unnaturally when they bring him in.  Don't be so quick to judge - he's probably not actually a crackhead, he most likely just wishes that (a) he'd used the toilet before stealing that Porsche, and (b) that he could reach his nose with his big toe.

Sharon was in the same room with me, but she had to sit the other side of the room with no contact.  I tried to give her the occasional reassuring glance, knowing that she was feeling far less entertained by the situation than I was (sorry babe!).

Still more waiting.  Trying to occupy my mind for a while, I toyed with the idea of attempting to get the cuffs underneath me and bringing my arms round to the front, just to see if I could.  I talked myself out of it on the grounds that the staff would be more inclined to shoot me than applaud if I managed it.

Eventually, one of them came back and I struck up a bit of a conversation with him.  He kept saying "Don't worry, it's probably not you, we'll get this straightened out and then I'll flag your record so you don't get stopped again".  At this point, I genuinely started thinking that by coincidence, I'd been mistaken for some other wanted fugitive with the same name, when suddenly:

"Wait, did you get pulled over for speeding?"

"Er what, here?"

"Yes, in the USA."

"Um, no, not recently."

"Ever?"

"Well...."

"Vegas?"

"Yup"

"it IS you!"

"Is it? Oh dear."

It's a strange feeling, wishing you had been mistaken for a violent psychopath.  But somehow that had now become the preferable scenario, because I now knew that I probably wouldn't simply be released.  Most importantly, more waiting would follow, which I wasn't sure my bladder could withstand, and I had no desire to find out how they help you go to the bathroom with your hands secured behind your back.

Fortunately, the knowledge that the offence in question was simply an unpaid speeding ticket meant that they didn't see any need to keep me cuffed any longer.  Which was nice.  As for why they'd dealt with the situation so "sensitively", it turns out that for some reason, the record had made it on to a database normally reserved for potentially dangerous criminals.  This had apparently confused them as much as me.  We all had a good laugh about it once they realised I wasn't a serial killer and the circulation had returned to my hands.

Unfortunately, there was still the small matter of what they were going to do with me.  They explained that I had a "no bail warrant"and "limited extradition order" against my name, which meant I should be held without release and transported to whichever jurisdiction issued the order, to face trial.  Indeed, they'd spoken to Nevada Justice Court who, despite knowing the nature of the offence, wanted me held until the following Friday, when they would come and get me.

Fortunately, Customs weren't keen to have to put me up for a week at their own expense, all over an unpaid speeding ticket in another state.  I imagine they'd searched the RV by this point and got a fair measure of just how much food I can consume in a week by looking in our fridge.

So they advised me that they would let me go, but obviously I should pay the fine ASAP and get the whole mess sorted out.

They also said they couldn't put that flag on the system to stop me getting hassled again.  Bit out of order really, I mean he promised!  But I suppose I did have a warrant and extradition order against my name, so I'll let him off.  I mean, if he bent the rules for me and word got out, every murderer and organised crime boss that crossed the border would be after the same deal!

So off we went and yes, I found out what I needed to do to settle the whole thing and paid the fine the next morning.

In all seriousness, they acted very professionally, reasonably and courteously and didn't treat me unfairly or with any bias or undue force.  And obviously I'm very grateful that they handled the case the way they did rather than throwing me in a cell for a few days and sending me to Nevada!

Just for fun, here's my rap sheet, redacted to protect the idiotic (namely me):

So there you go kids, the moral of the story is: Pay your fines.

Unless you want a cool story to tell a few years down the line.

No seriously, pay your fines.  And don't speed!