This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

It's impossible to be human for longer than a couple of years without experiencing that special moment when it dawns on us that we need to shut up. But because we're human, this realization always comes long after we should have.

I've certainly experienced such moments. In fact, mine occur almost daily. They involve my wife, bosses, co-workers, neighbors, kids and people I just met.

But it's nice to know that I'm not the current champion of forgetting to shut up. One evening last week, I was riding in a car on North Temple with three other guys, one of whom was a police officer not in uniform.

We were looking for a place to grab some late dinner when a car pulled up next to us and the lone occupant began making obscene gestures. He rolled down his passenger window and challenged us to a fight.

I don't wish to presume too much on a particular stereotype, but the guy was mid-20s, inked up to eyeballs, and had a baseball cap on sideways. The language he was using was old-school barrio tough guy.

He was upset over some traffic misunderstanding. Mr. Banger roared an invitation for us to bring it on if we weren't afraid of being hurt, then sped away in an erratic manner. He pulled wildly into a convenience store parking lot.

"He drives like he's drunk," the officer observed. "But it's against policy to stop cars when I have civilians with me."

The rest of us reminded the officer that this wasn't technically a ride-along. More importantly, we were actually going to get something to eat. In an unmarked police car.

"But he's going to hurt someone driving like that," the officer said.

Picking up the radio, the trooper requested uniform back up. But the closest units were minutes away, so the officer circled the block and stopped near the convenience store to watch the guy until backup arrived.

Mr. Banger saw us watching him and continued his pantomime invitation to a fight. He wasn't afraid of us. Let's go. Right now, you &%#$@!

The officer just sat and watched him, waiting patiently for the uniformed officers to show.

But then the suspect, still with the obscene gestures, started to leave. So the officer pulled in and blocked Mr. Banger. He got out to talk to Mr. Banger and introduced himself as a police officer.

The look on Mr. Banger's face was prize-winning "Oh, %&*@," but he kept up the performance. Stupid is nothing if not insistent.

"How do I know you're a cop," Mr. Banger shouted at the officer. This despite the fact that the officer showed his badge, his identification, and then pointed a Glock at Mr. Banger when he refused to stop shoving his hands down the front of his pants.

Long story short, backup arrived and Mr. Banger fled on foot. He made it less than a block. Turns out he wasn't drunk. He was just a moron.

Mr. Banger was wanted on a number of felony warrants, including a $50,000 warrant for a drive-by shooting. He had an endless criminal record.

If Mr. Banger belongs to a gang, they might want to review their recruiting methods. How smart could you possibly be to have a string of warrants out for you, and then pull up next to an unmarked Crown Vic loaded with adult males and start challenging them to a fight?

Mr. Banger went to jail and the rest of us went home. I treasure moments like these, times I can feel better about myself for all the times I should have been smart enough to shut up but didn't.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.