Handcuffed On the Pavement

That’s how my night ended, how was yours?
Returning from seeing the late show of the Dark Knight at 1:00AM, I note to Matt that, “For such empty streets there sure are several police vehicles around.”
Matt responds (with timing I wish I could write), “Yeah, but their lights aren’t on so–” before an unmarked K9 unit pulls in front of us, five more cars surround us, and my door is opened.

Officer: “Get your hands in the air. Get out of the vehicle.”
Matt: (while obliging) “May I ask why?”
Officer: “We believe this car to be stolen.”

Great.

In seconds I’m face down on Bay Street, with my hands cuffed behind me while Matt is being removed from the vehicle.
I don’t recall a lot of the conversation beyond the officer who was addressing me directly, so you should go read Matt’s recollections too, but I think they ran his plates wrong or something.

The officer who helped me to my feet (which I’ve now discovered is fucking impossible while cuffed) said she was glad she didn’t draw her gun on me, like she usually does. Matt wasn’t so lucky, but I appreciated it.

End result, all was well and they were just doing their job, which is a thankless one I could never do, and I respect their professionalism. Still it was pretty jarring.
However, as soon as I heard it was a stolen car thing I knew they had the wrong guys and began using comedy as a coping mechanism, as I do.
“Hmm,” I thought, “This’ll be quite the story. Neat.”

Now I’m going to go wash Bay Street off my face and hopefully stop shaking sometime in the next hour.