At the tender young age of 17, I got hammered one night at a party. Come 2am, it was time to go home so I started walking. But the walking was a bit tricky due to the close confines of the footpath and the alcohol in my system. Being a fit fella (and clearly very sensible) I decided to run down the middle of the street.
After about 500m I saw the reflection of a flash of red and blue behind me and a brief squark of siren. The conversation went something like this:
Cop: Mate, what are you doing?
Me: Going home to bed
Cop: Why are you running in the middle of the road?
Me: It is faster and the surface is smoother than the footpath
Cop: Are you drunk?
Me: I'm out of my brain
Cop: Get in the back. We'll give you a lift home
He opened the back of his cop van, helped me climb in and drove me all the way home. Lucky for me he'd turned the red/blue lights off by the time he pulled into my driveway
Good cop!!