Have You Ever Been Profiled?

Only foreign border police come to mind. Canadians at the Idaho crossing, asked us repeatedly if we had guns with us (no). Our northern neighbors must have profiled us as firearms scofflaws.

And during the cold war, Warsaw pact countries would take as long as five hours to let us across their borders, even though we had proper visa's. I suppose all Americans were profiled as spies.
 
I spent most of my FBI career on and around Indian reservations in the west. Once I was pulled over in a border town where I knew all of the cops. I was driving a recently acquired personal pickup truck that had seen better days and fell into the local category of "rez ride". It was winter and the windows were frosty so the young cop didn't know it was me. I was driving under the limit and hadn't done anything to merit being pulled over. He was visibly surprised when he saw it was me and said something about my tires extending past the wheel wells, which they didn't. I said "DWI, right?" He said, oh man - don't even say that. My wife said - he thought you were drunk? I told her in that town DWI meant Driving While Indian.

My wife is Chamorro, from Guam. We had been in Montana for about a week when she asked me why the owner of the local hardware store followed her around when she shopped there. She was shocked when I told her it was probably because they thought she was from the rez. In the years that followed she was often asked by tribal members - Navajos, Blackfeet, Apaches, Shoshone-Bannocks, Shoshone-Paiutes - what tribe she was from, and she always took it as an honor and compliment.
 
When I was nineteen, right after the siege of Vicksburg lifted, I got a terrible sunburn, so bad my brother had to help me dress for a week. Someone told me that half a bottle of cider vinegar in a tub of tepid water would ease the pain, It worked.

One night I was at my girlfriend's house when I remembered I was out of vinegar at home. There were no 24-hour convenience stores then, so she gave me a bottle of vinegar to take with me. She put it in a brown paper bag and twisted the sack around the neck.

I was walking home at 0130. I was nineteen and looked sixteen. I was carrying a bottle of amber liquid in s bag twisted around the neck. I was walking with the stiff, exaggerated care of one who was sunburned and being rubbed painfully by his clothing.

Naturally I was stopped by the police. It wasn't a good night. :D

Now I'm profiled every time I go out in public: crippled-up little old man with a white beard, walking with a cane and wearing a backpack (which contains my oxygen tank). Possibly homeless, they think, but certainly old and therefore irascible and stupid.

Fortunately that doesn't get me stopped. So far.
 
Only foreign border police come to mind. Canadians at the Idaho crossing, asked us repeatedly if we had guns with us (no). Our northern neighbors must have profiled us as firearms scofflaws.

Years ago my buddies and I went for an extended paddle up in Algonquin Park in Ontario.

Funny thing that occurred was that a ( very good looking) gal in front of me had quite a few jars of honey in which were secreted many rather large buds from marijuana plants.

The Canadian customs inspector chatted her up, got her number, (probably false), and sent her on her way without so much as a secondary inspection.

When they got to us, they unceremoniously made us unpack our backpacks and canoeing gear and made a big show of looking through it all as if they'd never seen camping gear before.

I showed my ID to the inspector when he was done and asked him what was more suspicious about us compared to the gal he had chatted up and let go. I then asked him if he thought my pants made my *** look too big. :p

He was somewhat chagrined but he wasn't about to apologize either and sent us on our way.

True story.
 
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In the 60s and early 70s we were stopped on a regular basis just for being kids. I once got stopped in my car and accused of trying to outrun the officer since I made so many turns on the city streets. I said no but I'm taking my girlfriend home and this is the route to her street. We got let go.

In early 80s my first wife and I were entering Vermont from Quebec late at night at a one man crossing. We were driving an RX-7 and got quizzed about where we came from and were going and said we were visiting family. I was asked where I worked and when I told him I was asked if I could prove it. I gave him a business card and we were let through. My wife's aunt was border patrol in Vermont and I told her about what happened, She laughed and said you matched the profile for drug smuggling was what happened. A couple other times crossing back into the US I've had US customs search my vehicle.
 
How did you know?

I was in line behind her and saw the bottles and the buds.
The inspector knew what it was and knew I knew.

It's not like I cared one way or the other, I just thought it humorous that he got religion when it came to us.

In South FL when I was in the narcotics task force the threshold for marijuana cases was 5,000 lbs to go federal. Needless to say we had bigger fish to fry.
 
Profiled ???
Every time I have been into the northeastern section of this country ! !

Following my first, slow, drawled-out, un-enunciated, obviously southern utterance, I feel like I am being "profiled" .

The words I hear first and foremost, "up there" is: "How's that again"; spoken usually in two distinct tones.
First, with disdain, for such an ignorant wretch, who certainly must have become lost while trying to get "over yonder" to pick up some sweet taters for a possum supper.

Second tone is only slightly better; which is very very LOUD and spoken slowly, realizing of course, not only am I too dense to be in public, but also have the hearing of a 90 year old and the mental grasp of a 3 year old.

If, on the rare occasion I am even considered worthy of the spoken word from one of my northern cousins, I have to confess, I seldom am able to understand just what was said.
HOW DO THEY SPEAK SO FAST ??
When I shoulder the blame for having to ask for a repeat of the question; I always do it mannerly, (not..HOW'S THAT !?!..)
In a well spoken sentence; as best I can, I say; "sorry, I apologize for not understanding you, my ears just can't listen that fast".

I can see their gleam of understanding. Then comes the obvious "profiling" ; same as you would a cow that has wandered out into the road..... Just shoo them on back where they came from.

There is one gesture I have received while in a sports bar "up there" that was somewhat endearing.
After making some headway in a rudimentary conversation with a sports bar patron once, I pointed out that yelling at the T V screen and cursing the fellow for missing that little black thing they batted at him would not prevent the opposing team from celebrating.

I was told; "rube, I'm gonna buy ya a beer and let you learn from me how to be a proper HOCKEY fan".
HOCKEY huh ? I was taught as a kid to call that stuff that exits the back end of a cow... "HOCKEY".

There is a simple explanation why I TALK slow. It's cause I also THINK slow; and don't like for my words to speed past my thoughts.

So yes, I feel my case of profiling is just as legitimate as most all the others I hear ranted about.
 
Many years ago I got stopped on the NJ Turnpike for DWAB(driving with a ......( banned topic,my good friend), I was told I had a "dirty license plate".
yeah sure. :rolleyes:
 
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Me, Profiled? Don't rightly know. But if any one ever starts profiling old, short, fat, bald hedaded, absent minded men then I'm in BIG trouble. :rolleyes:

But if you stop and think about it you might realize that EVERYONE profiles in one way or another. Another way to express social profiling would be forming and opinion.
 
When I was probably 14 I was in our local Sears store in the audio department with a couple buddies. We were just ogling some of their "high quality" stereo stuff. A salesman came up to us and accused us of stealing a phono cartridge off of a display turntable. He called over his manager and went into a litany of things we were doing wrong including thief and destruction of property to his manager. Despite no evidence or facts to back his claims he wanted to involve the cops.

After a long moment of silence the manager told us we were free to go. As we walked away the manager called over to me "Tell mom I'll be home for dinner around 6:30"!
 
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A few times in my youth. I lived in a town whose population went between about 24,000 to as high as 30,000 depending which way the wind blew. Anyway, a sergeant on the KPD, always busted me for one thing or other just to give me a ticket for some fictionalized infraction. This was back when tickets had low fine numbers-speeding was $15 + $1 per extra over limit mile etc. Well, one day my dad sent me to pick up something from a store having worked on that car for a day or two. He sent me to also test if anything needed adjustment or whatever. I was about 1-2 blocks from that store having bought whateveritwasIwas to buy? I saw the jerk keeping close eye on me while he was at the local DQ. As soon as I made a stop at a light--I noticed he was following me trying to make me nervous. When that failed? on went the bubblegum lights. I pulled over and he wrote me three tickets. 1) one of the back wheels supposedly was wobbly--but I knew that was BS because my dad just worked on the back of the car--also having regreasing or replacing all the brakes on the car. 2 was for speeding--which I wasnt doing--and he wrote a ticket for 7 miles over the limit. 3 was for no insurance--which I had and showed him the card with my name on it. He wrote that ticket saying that car wasnt under my name.

I went home-told my dad what happened and we immediately went to see Judge Scarborough. He phoned the PD and told them to call in that sergeant and that he'd better be in his chambres in 5 minutes. Well, we waited--the sergeant was late, the Judge frowned at the Sergeant and proceded to read him the riot act. A caucasion sergeant went pale white with loss of color. He was also warned that he'd better never stop me for anything again--unless I was REALLY doing some wrong.

The Judge then tore up all three tickets--which amounted to over $300, and sent that sergeant away with his tail between his legs. I was never bothered by that sergeant again even after an incident three months later. I was with my friend Greg--and went to egg his car since we knew where he lived. He didnt actually catch us egging his car--but we were the only two in the area.

Needless to say, he didnt remain a sergeant for long and we never saw him after that.
 
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Will retell a story that happened to an employee of mine while I was working in Sothern Arizona. My main man was a very skilled Mexican man. Because of the border patrol he always carried a pay stub in his wallet when driving a company truck. One night about 2 am he was driving way to fast across a reservation as he was all alone. Suddenly he felt a presence around him, kind of life a shadow. Then ahead of him was all kinds of red light. It was the border patrol driving a suburban painted flat black, without lights that had passed him and blocked the road. Stopping he naturally reached for his wallet when he heard a pump shotgun being racked right next to his ear. Another border patrol vehicle had come up behind him with no lights and had pulled down on him without him knowing they were there. Recounting the story when he got to the job site, he said we should have been there. He said he was the whitest Mexican any of us would ever see.
 
In the early '90s I was walking through the Manchester (UK) airport to catch a flight to Belfast. A policeman suddenly stepped in front of me, backed up by another policeman holding an HK MP5 in the ready position. "Going to Dublin today, are we?" he asked. I told him I was going to Belfast, which he confirmed by examining my paperwork, including my US passport. He thanked me and sent me on my way.

When I got to the gate, a man wearing a suit examined my paperwork and started asking questions about my work, my employer, my residence in the US, my family, names of US golf courses and tournaments, and a number of other subjects, many of which I couldn't answer. Apparently I achieved a passing score anyway, as he let me board the plane to Northern Ireland.

I concluded they must have been looking for someone connected to the IRA or Sinn Fein, and I fit the general description.
 
When I was teenager growing up in Detroit, I used to get pulled over on a regular basis. Of course I was driving a red, white and blue 1965 Plymouth beater that I had bought that way on a Sunday ad for $125 just to get me to work and back and I had long hair and a beard.
One time the officers pulled up along side me and one asked "Is that your car?" To which I replied jokingly "You don't think I would steal something like this do you?" Him and his partner both started laughing and said "You got a point there" I sold that car as soon as I could.
 
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