in the process of pulling over, i accidentally mounted the kerb narrowly missing a few pedestrians, and lept sideways off the bike as it crashed to ground.
"what's going on?," i casually asked the panting policeman.
"your licence," came the humourless reply.
i wasn't about to try the go-cart licence trick again, so i told him that i had left it in the hotel room.
"come with me," he said. i accompanied him to one of the roadside police booths with nightmarish hallucinations of spending the next few years in an indonesian jail, as i had about six bags of mushrooms and three large bottles of beer that clinked guiltilly whenever i took a step, in my backpack..the cop did little to ease my worried mind, he just kept shaking his head and saying," this is bad...very, very bad."