do you exist?

john facenda is the voice of nfl films. he was hired to do some comedy voice overs for ford auto. i provided the character voices for three of them: the sports professor, the high school football hero, and the shirtless guy trying to start the wave.
i did this after getting in from LA at 5 am. i then had a callback for the will ferrell nascar movie (as yet untitled). it was in charlotte, north carolina, about 3 hours away.
i got about 2 hours into the drive, mason jennings keeping me company on the cd player. my agent called. if i couldn't be there in 15 minutes they couldn't see me. i was late.
they could see me tomorrow.
i relented, ate a bean burrito and turned back for home. outside greenville i was pulled over for an "improper lane change". the cop, a huge gap-toothed man, asked me to step out of the car. i was positioned in front of the camera on his dash. the litany goes like this:
where are you going? really. do you own this car? really. what do you do for a living? really.
this is the fourth time this has happened to me. in alabama i was told my tag was expired. it wasn't. this cop attempted a similar maneuver:
"where'd you get the tag?"
from the tag office when i registered the oldsmobile 88.
"well, this tag is registered to a lincoln town car."
i shrugged.
by this point, three more cops pulled in. two with drug dogs.
any illegal items in the vehicle? really. are you carrying large sums of cash? really. can we search your car?
i said no.
i'm no lawyer. i know a little about civil liberties. i thought this would be the end of it.
no way.
immediately, a german shepherd was led around the 88. my wife's grandmother's car. i didn't see it give a bark or jump up or do anything. yet, the stunted-growth cop opened the doors to my car, allowing the dog in. he began searching through everything.
six marked and unmarked cars now lined the interstate. i turned to a round-faced cop chewing tobacco. i asked do i fit the profile? he deadpanned:
"nawsir. a profile does not exist."
a fantastic solution to any problem.
"by the way, watch those ants don't git in yer shoes." a line of ants stretched across three lanes of i-85. i was hypnotized. the line remained unbroken despite rush hour traffic.
the cop spat a wad of brown dip on the ants. a war of attrition.
"tough little 'gunners."
nearly an hour passed. cops on their backs under the 88 with flashlights. ice scraper, spare tire cover, guitar amp, comic books dotted the brown grass outside greenville. i'll always cherish that time a cop of the bucktoothed variety pat me down.
"you smoke marijuana?"
no.
"do you do any drugs?"
no.
"why is there a box of sandwich bags under the front seat?"
hold sandwiches.
"have a nice day."
i got a $77 ticket for improper lane change. against my gut feeling, i went back to charlotte the next day. i auditioned for adam mckay (pictured with will ferrell). he had me read two parts. his comment was:
"that's it, perfect read. you're very funny. thanks it was nice meeting you."
i told him how we'd met a couple time before about 10 years ago.
"dude, i remember you. you guys did shakespeare in austin. it was awesome."
i was flattered. fuckin'-a right it was.