As Brian G. pointed out, I didn't say you could only pick one. Some of them aren't very long. Some of them are essentially one-liners. Let's see...Brian and Donovan both wanted 12, which fits nicely into the current theme of Guillermo Vs. The Man And His Down-Getters.

#12. Police Officer Pulls Over Guillermo And Asks "Are You In The Army" (While AWOL)

Alan Schuler and I have a yearly 24-hour road trip to Six-Flags in California every summer. The first year we went, it was just Alan, Ryan Smith, and I. Nothing particularly eventful happened during that trip, although Ryan fell asleep in the back seat of the car. This in and of itself is normal, since that bastard falls asleep at the oddest hours and in the oddest places.

Alan and I were irritated that he was getting some rest and we weren't. My bitter, sleep-deprived thoughts turned to mischief. I thought of an idea, and ran it by Alan. He had no problem with it, and even volunteered to be the person to count to "three."

So we're driving through the desert in the middle of the night and Alan begins to count.

"One....two....three!"

Alan starts swerving the car madly. Simultaneously, the two of us start screaming at the top of our lungs.

It was a good thing Alan's sunroof wasn't open, because I swear Ryan would have leapt right out of it. He shot straight up, instantly awake. His eyes were as big as dinner plates. All he could do was stammer "Wha? Wha? Wha?" until he calmed down.

A few hours later, as we were entering Phoenix, he began to see the humor in the situation.

But we didn't run into any police that year.

The next year, again, on the tail end of our 24-hour journey, I was driving Alan's car. Alan and I were driving in hundred-mile shifts. Brian H. and Andrew N. were snoozing in the backseat. I think we tried the ol' scream-swerve on them, but Andrew was awake so it didn't get him.

I was exhausted. I only had about 10 miles left before we would stop at a rest stop and switch. Being a bit anxious to do this, I began to drive a little above the speed limit.

I think I was going about 97 miles per hour when I passed the police car.

This wasn't one of those deals where the police sit by the side of the road. I did the whole slower-car-in-front-so-switch-lanes-to-pass around the police car.

I didn't even notice them. I do remember thinking "Hm, that car I just passed is driving must faster now." I felt a weary pride, like maybe I inspired them to seize the day or something.

When the flashing red and blue lights came on, I understood. The only thing they were interested in seizing was my reckless ass.

"Oh yeah," Brian H. mumbled sleepily. "I thought that was a cop you passed."

I was still too exhausted to properly express my thanks at that bit of information.

I wearily put my hands up, with my wrists resting on the top of the steering wheel. (For those of you in India, you don't have to do that. Pulling a car over is potentially the most dangerous position a police officer can be in, so it puts them more at ease when they can see your hands. In my experience, it has usually been a good idea to get whoever is holding the gun to relax.) Andrew does this as well, since the two of us have been pulled over a lot together. Now that I think about it, I've only been pulled over once without him being in the car. Hm.

There were two police officers, and one of them came over and questioned us while the other hung back by the squad car. I didn't have my wallet on me; it had vanished the week before. I was instructed to go over to the officer by the car and give him my social security number. I did this.

The cop punched the numbers into his computer and peered down at the screen. He looked back at me and asked, "Are you in the Army?"

His question triggered on of my infamous flashbacks. I was back in Basic Training, sitting in one of the classrooms listening to a lecture. We had to sit through all kinds of classes on topics ranging from filing the proper supply forms to proper behavior in the event of capture by the enemy.

The class I was remembering was about the Universal Code Of Military Justice. Specifically, penalties for active-duty soldiers being Absent Without Official Leave. "Now soldiers," the instructor was saying, "Just because you go AWOL doesn't mean helicopters and tanks are going to come swarming after you. You may not get caught for a long, long time. But someday, maybe years from now, when you have a nice job, a home, maybe a wife and some kids, you're going to get pulled over for, I don't know, a burnt-out tail-light or something. And when that happens, that police officer is going to run your license, and on his little computer screen, in big, red letters it's going to say: AWOL."

Then I was back in the present. The cop was still looking at me, waiting for an answer. "Eh, no, not anymore," I said weakly.

"Smart move, kid," the policeman nodded. "I got out as soon as I could, too." Gravity must have been looking the other way for a second because there was no way I should have been able to stand on my own power after I heard him say that.

We ended up talking for a bit; the two of us bitching about the military like old pals. The other officer came over and asked why I had been speeding. I told him, "No real reason, I just wanted to get home." He seemed satisfied with that. We all talked for a little longer and then he wrote me a ticket for speeding. I told them to take care and that I hoped we wouldn't see each other again. (Hey, you have to play to your audience.)

Back in the car, gravity started paying attention and we all sank in our seats with relief. Everyone had heard the cop ask me if I was in the Army and had thought I was screwed.

Despite having just been ticketed, I was in a good mood. I was in an even better mood after I looked at the ticket. I was walking away from a criminal speeding without a license violation. The cop I had talked to had put me down as having gone the minimum eleven or so miles over the speed limit to merit a ticket.

We drove the rest of the way home without further incident.

I had to think about it a bit more, though. If the computer hadn't told him I was AWOL, how did he know I was "in" the Army? If I had to wager, I'd say he must have recognized it from the way I said my social security number. During Basic Training, we had to rattle that thing off hundreds of times. Our names weren't important; we were that number. After saying it so many times you start to sound a little...robotic. I probably still had that and he must have just picked up on it.

It still didn't explain why I hadn't shown up as AWOL on the computer. But judging by the pile of homework still sitting on the table, the reason for that is going to have to wait for another night.