Before an amazing night of winter merriment, I had an awkward encounter with one of New York City's finest at the Target in Brooklyn.

Leaving the store at about 10:00 PM, I asked the NYPD officer who was standing guard at the exit to presumably check reciepts if it was okay to change into the clothes that I had just bought before leaving the store. I gestured at the men's room to my left. 

I was going sledding and had bought some wind pants to protect my jeans from looking like I had peed myself for an hour straight. The officer said, "As long as you got your receipt and take the tags off, you good money." I said, "Appreciate it, bro."

But then he added, "But you gotta change right here though," gesturing to the space in front of him, smiling.

I impulsively, and angrily, responded, "I don't play that NYPD shit, homeboy!" and headed to the bathroom. After I had changed and was exiting the store, I couldn't look the officer in the face.

I had had my doubts before, but it was at that moment that I became more certain that those cops who were just acquitted got away with something. Again.