"I fight authority...
Authority always wins"
Cougar/Mellencamp
I'm a jackass. Let's get that on the record now. If there was an emoticon that pictured twin donkey ears I’d insert it here. Everything that follows is no one's fault but mine.
I got a traffic ticket a ways back that I mostly forgot about. And when I did think about it I was traveling or broke. I scheduled this Friday off work to go take care of it because...you see my license had been revoked and a bench warrant out for my arrest.
Lovely, 34 yrs old and still with bench warrants.
So I’m driving home last night through Worthington. Driving slowly, because I'm concerned of course…just let me get to Friday.
I see a police office turn around behind me and start following. I'm nervous of course but I know I wasn't speeding. I turn into my little complex of 12 condos and on go the sirens.
"Shit"
Pulls into my complex sirens a blazing:
"License, registration, proof of insurance please. Do you know why I stopped you?"
Cause it's a cruel and godless universe I offer...in my head
"No officer, I don't"
Did I mention I'm pulled up in front of my house? 10ft away is the front door. Adrienne is inside waiting for me. I'm sure she's nervous as hell by now. But I still hold out hope...this is Worthington, I'm at my house, it's just a traffic violation, I'm a decent guy.
When the other four police cars roll in I know that things have taken a definite turn for the worse. My neighbor, who I had just seen with her four kids 10 minutes ago at the grocery, comes rolling to find the driveway blocked by police cars...sirens flashing.
"Please step out of the car sir"
Frisked, felt up and cuffed. Uh...does anyone remember it's a traffic ticket?
Led back to the car put in the backseat, hands still cuffed behind me. Ever try and sit down with your hands, palms together, cuffed together? That's why everyone you see in the backseat of a police car is leaning forward. And here I always thought it was anticipation.
It's important to note that I am in pretty good spirits considering. I have years of training in the "grant me serenity to accept the things I can't change" school and this was definitely out of control. Plus you screw up enough in life you start to get used to it. And as has often been said, laughter and humor is medicine to the absurdity and suffering of life.
So it becomes clear that they are taking me downtown. For awhile they said maybe I could just pay them. But nope I got to go down. Now here I sit cuffed, hands falling asleep thinking...crap. But I’m trying to consider it an experience. I hear that that Adrienne can come bail me out. And I’m thinking.....bail? bail? that goes with......jail?? (Rhymes also)
So we sit with lights flashing for 30 minutes for the entire neighborhood. Thinking I have to tell Jordan cause the neighbor kids will if I don’t. At one point, as the officer fills out the mountain of paperwork I say:
“Uh…I’d be glad to drive while you fill those out officer”
Hoping for a joke…some rapport….wait for reaction.
Laughter. Okay, things improving. Maybe he’ll make this go fast when we are there. We chat most of the way down and slowly it emerges that indeed he is taking me to the county jail where I will be admitted. And he has no idea how it works. None at all. But we have a nice conversation. I at one point mention that I am getting nervous. I also add:
“if I end up here for 20 days and get beaten and raped I’m going to feel much less friendly towards you.”
I also ask him if from one cop to another he can tell these folks I’ve been a decent fellow, he’ll try he says. We pull up to the County Jail garage, he announces a drop off and up goes the door and then down behind us. Small room with maintenance equipment, ladders.
My brain helpfully pipes in, “you know they could beat you here. No one would know. They could fuck you with a broomstick”. Easy big guy, easy. And I’m laughing a bit as I say it.
I’d like to tell you that having a bit of a past in this regard and with my boxing prowess (ha) that I’m not nervous. But truth is I am, not terribly…not scared but apprehensive.
In we go to a roomful of chaos. Reminded me of the scenes in an ER show where they roll you in through the doors and all sorts of shit is going on. Men lined up on benches, officers all over, yelling from here and there. Locking doors and holding tanks. Yep this is jail alright.
“Come up to the counter, take off your shoes and socks, spread wide and put your hands on the counter.” A more thorough frisk than the last one.
“Follow me please”
Ok….I follow to the…clothing room? No, surely not. Yes.
Now it starts to get weirder. I walk into the clothing room and am asked to strip. And as I’m doing it the cop across the counter is yelling “One one thousand, two one thousand….counting fast. Now I don’t know what number I’m supposed to get this done under. Then of course as I get to the pants I warn the man:
”I don’t wear underwear” No reaction….
”nine one thousand…ten one”
So they always warn you to wear clean underwear. “What if you’re in a crash?” What if you were driving home from the store, then an hour later you are standing naked in the clothing room of the local jail with no underwear? There’s no pithy maxim or advice for that that I’m aware of.
Then he hands me my new “clothes”….I doubt that’s what they call them. Uniform? Salmon colored sandals, a pretty nice pair of blue slightly denim-ish pants. They fit well. Hell I’d wear these on the streets, if I ever get free….lol.
Make my one phone call…to Adrienne. She is on her way to post bail, shouldn’t be long now.
Then it’s to the holding cell. I’m terrible with size but let’s just leave it at the room wasn’t real big, about 8 of us in there. Usual jailhouse situation (really I’m no expert but the basic principles are easy to grasp. And the basic principle is, as far as I can tell: “GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE”. )
So with the police I’m trying to be this friendly, professional suburban guy so they won’t put me in here. Now I’m thinking, time for a change of role. Most of the guys are staring off into space, not wanting to be noticed or bothered. A few guys bantering on with the usual…
”what you in here for?”
“Hell if that was my charges I’d be fucking glad. Happy, I’d do a fucking jig…motherfucker…(bob hands around like a rapper). They got me at my girl’s house…fucking 247 days on the shelf. I don’t care…fuck em motherfuckers”
Jittery, semi elderly, black crack addict interjects here and there with mostly indecipherable jabber. I can occasionally pick out “stem” “lighter” “fucking make a party of this joint”
Next to me is a truly old man…drunk,scruffy, probably homeless who wakes up periodically and says something.
“Motherfucker over there…” Pointing at old drunk “he got an open container charge, fuck $45 and he’s out. Shit man…that’s fucking (hand simulates action) a jerk off charge. I got fucking 247 days on the fucking shelf” He’s bobbing and weaving walking around. If there’s anyone to worry about in here it’s him. But I’m not ignoring him. I’m engaging, making a friend…I hope. But I’ll be out any minute. The door will open.
Drag me out to put on the wrist band with my mug shot. Nice. I’ll send that home for the holidays. As the female officer leads me back into the holding cell I ask her casually:
“If someone is posting bond now how long should it take”
In my head I’m thinking an hour at worst…
“6 to 8 hours”
Huh? What…why that’s 4AM or 6 AM...why….that’s all night. Figuring screaming or crying wasn’t going to get me high respect marks from my homies, I settle back into the cell. Now it’s a whole new ballgame. An hour is almost fun. Check the folks out, think about what a laugh this will be when Chris, Jon and Adrienne and I have a drink later.
8 hours is another thing entirely. In this room? Turns out no….off we go. I am handed my plastic cup, with toothbrush, toothpaste and, to drive home the overnight thing, a blanket. Loaded on the elevator, taken up to the cell block. Oh, did I mention…..this is a traffic ticket? Our hard earned tax dollars at work.
The cell block is about 12 cells in a row and a walkway in front of them with a TV on the other side of the bars, a few phones. I find my “cell” and settle in for a second. I’m feeling as relieved as you can about an unforseen night in jail because at least with a cell I’ve got a place to be alone, lay down, weep for my mother…that kind of thing. Really though as I mentioned I’m in good spirits. But I’m a little concerned about all night, because I can’t sleep with any disturbances. My son coughs in the other room and I’m up. So sleep seems unlikely.
I’ll make some phone calls. Chat with my friends. Tell Adrienne I’m ok. I’m sure she’s freaking if they told her I’d be in for 8 hours. I’m ok…I’m fine but she doesn’t know. I almost feel worse for her.
Collect calls only….ok. You must dial the number and then type in your case number lightening fast. Takes me a few try’s to get it.
“This number is restricted”
Shit. Try Jon’s….
“This number is…” Shit, hang up. Of course, cell phones don’t take collect calls and everyone I know has a cell phone. They don’t have home phones and if they do I have no idea the number. Oh I love cell phones in general. Think they are helpful, useful but someone needs to do something about this. Where was Verizon when I needed them? “Still working….my ass”
Well let’s go watch some TV. It’s harder to see with bars in the way. And in jail, even in jail with nothing else to do TV sucks and I leave after a few minutes figuring I’ll come back and watch Conan in an hour or so.
Back to the cell, I need to sleep. I’m tired, slept terribly the night before. Lie down and pull my blanket up and try. Nope…back up. Brush teeth, drink water. Lay back down.
The conversation on my head:
“Om mani padme hung” (trying to meditate a bit, maybe fall asleep and avoid thoughts like..)
“ What if you are stuck here for days”
“ No you’ll be out soon”
“God my bed would be nice, Adrienne there.”
“Om mani padme hung”
drifting….SLAM…
Some unknown noise. Back to it…
“Om mani padme hung”
“I hope Chris, Jon and Adrienne are out having a drink and making a toast. “To Eric getting out of the slammer”. Smile. Put it in the book.
“God I can’t afford this. I’m such an idiot. Got to pay Jordan’s school…”
“Om mani padme hung”
Drifting…
You get the idea. Time 11:15…expected release time 4-6AM. Sigh…
Up and walk. Back to bed….
Back in bed….mind still all over. Writing a song in my head titled aptly enough “Hey Hey I did it again”
“Om mani padme hung”
Drifting….
“ZIMMER……ZIMMER.”
“What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”
William Shakespeare
My ass sweet ass William….Oh how sweet the sound of your own name. A sound like no other.
Officer says: “rgwgrwrgwrgwgg” (Imagine peanuts teacher voice except yelled by a jailer.
“Grab your mat, all your stuff”
Out we go. I ask, just to be sure: “I’m going home?”
“Yeah”
Back down to the main room. Back to the clothes room…change clothes, gather my things.
“Any chance of me keeping this pretty bracelet so I can hang it up as a reminder not to be a jackass?”
Nope, of course not. Led out one door. Waiting in front of the other to open. Out into a small lobby…see the exit door. And outside...sweet fresh air. Light mist…reasonable temperature, dark but it’s outside. I can walk, use my phone, and go get food. Call Adrienne. She’s on her way.
Get the run down on the bail bondsman she had to get. We have to go by and get my picture taken. He’s not there. Back to my house, and I’ll be damned if you don’t feel like some sort of party or celebration getting out of jail but it’s late. We hang out, I toast being out of jail. And my bed does feel good…..so good…so good.
“I fight authority, authority always wins
I fight authority, authority always wins
I been doing it, since I was a young kid
I’ve come out grinnin’
Eric--
Susan Hanlon just shared this with me, knowing I'd be a receptive audience for a piece like this. I am ever so glad she did, too! This is without a doubt one of the funniest chronicles of the idiocy of law enforcement I have ever had the pleasure of reading. I have been laughing out loud at my desk, and enjoying every minute of it. Eric, you ROCK, and I'll be looking forward to the next time you recount a new life experience that comes your way (hopefully none so traumatic!).
One question: NOW do you wear underwear on a regular basis? HA! Couldn't resist the impertinent question, but inquiring minds want to know...
Ciao for now! Hope I'll get to meet you in person sometime!
Posted by: Beth Avila | October 21, 2004 at 10:08 AM
OMG i dont know what is scarier...the fact u werent wearing underclothes or the stupid rigidity of law enforcement...having been through a very similar experience recently during a holiday on cape cod i can sympathise with you.
The first hour was a worthwhile experience, as were the releived laughs later (especially when confronted with the astonished faces of friends who couldnt believe it happened to me!). It was the 10 hours in between that were so bad.
I never did get over the embrassment to post about it. Having read this i think I may. thank you
Posted by: neil | November 01, 2004 at 01:12 PM