Wedding Arrest:
Disorderly While Intoxicated,Vagrancy,&Fighting The Law
When the cops found me they thought I had overdosed. On heroin. That’s what they told me anyway. I hadn’t, of course, but I could understand the confusion. Supposedly a cop had knocked on the window and I didn’t respond. Then he knocked harder, turned on the siren in his car, the lights, shined a flashlight on me, and I was still unresponsive. Motionless. This is what he told me anyway. I woke up as he was walking away from the car; all I know for sure is that I had apparently spent a good deal of energy filling the car with my vomit while I was asleep. I was unresponsive; good thing he did nothing to try and save me – said no one ever. I had gotten in this situation due to a wedding.
A friend of mine was getting married and he very much wanted me in attendance at the ceremony. He insisted on getting married despite my showing him concrete evidence that 100% of people who get divorced FIRST got married; marriage is an early warning sign. Be the facts as they may, he was happy with the idea of getting married and went to great lengths to make sure I knew of the wedding over half a year in advance, so I would have no excuse not to go. I told him if he wanted me there, I would be there. I said I’d even take off some of the dangly bits and put on something with sleeves and buttons. “Wow! That’s more than I’d ever expect from you. I’ll just be happy if you make it.” Make it I did.
A six hour drive to the northern most part of the Midwestern united states. A small sub city of a much larger city, where the cops are notorious for harassing anyone from out of town, and arresting people at the drop of a hat. In fact, the friend of mine who was getting married was arrested there for peeing in an alley. I arrived to the address I was given and was a bit confused; this was an Italian restaurant. People don’t have wedding at Italian restaurants… do they? Maybe I was just in denial given my disdain for Italian food, because yes, that is where the wedding was held. It was in a separate hall from the restaurant proper, but it was still an Italian restaurant. I walked in. “You made it!” said the bride, “I didn’t know you were actually coming.” … does that mean I don’t have a place to sit? “I’m sure we can arrange something.” I’ll wing it, no worries, and congratulations. About that time my friend the groom came in, nonchalantly talking to the bride. They don’t’ care much for the old superstitions, and were just happy to be getting married. “You made it!” he said, noticing me. “I was hoping you could take a break from dying in a forest somewhere long enough to make it.” Of course; I promised. He then produced a flask full of 50 year old whiskey he had been drinking to accentuate the occasion. “have some!” he said, thrusting it on me. We toasted and had some. He then went off to finish preparations, and pretty soon the wedding was underway.
It was a beautiful ceremony, and very light hearted given the crown in attendance. Once the reception began it was even livelier. Two open bars and lots of food. Therein lay the danger though. This place being an Italian restaurant and all there was a pretty good chance I was about to eat some garlic. Garlic and I don’t get along well, and it’s made much worse with the presence of alcohol. At this wedding alcohol had quit the presence. A couple hours of lively revelry found me ready to lie down. The only place I had to go was the car I drove there in. So to the car I went. It was 9pm now and I was asleep in the car, seat fully reclined, enjoying the fruits of my unconsciousness. At around 10 I woke up long enough to congratulate my buddy on his wedding and tell him bye as he was leaving past the car. “Where are you staying tonight? The car?” Yeah. “Ok, just don’t go anywhere. Cops here will arrest you for nothing.” With that bit of advice I went back to sleep. A few hours later, I was talking to the police.
It was 3am now. I rolled down the window and said to the officer “can I help you?”. “You been drinking?” Yes, about 6 hours ago. “I see you have out of state plates. What are you doing here?” I’m in for a wedding. “Where was it?” Here. 6 hours ago. “And where are you staying tonight?” The car. “I can’t let you do that; that’s vagrancy and it’s against the law.” It was working out pretty well for me before you got here. “Where are you going to go?” Back to sleep. “I can’t let you do that.” Why is that? “You’re drunk.” No, I WAS drunk. Now I’m tired. It’s after 3am. “Did you know you’re covered in vomit?” Yes. “What are you going to do about it?” Go back to sleep. “I don’t think so. Why don’t you step out of the car?”
So I got out of the car. (I’ll not be doing that again).
“I can’t leave you here as a vagrant, plus you may drive away drunk.” I’m not drunk, and I’m certainly not driving anywhere until daybreak. 15 minutes ago you thought I was dead! “Now I know you’re not. Why don’t you just come with me to the station so you’ve got a legal roof over you, and you can leave in the morning?” … I’d rather not. “Well how’s this? If you don’t I’ll have to take you in for drunk driving.” I’m not drunk! Give me a breathalyzer! “I don’t have one. “ You don’t have one!? You’re a cop and you don’t have one? “No” What about in your car? “No.” You don’t even have one in your car!?
That right there should tell you the caliber of “law enforcement” I was dealing with at the time.
I’m not drunk!, I protested. “ Well I’ll make it in your favor. I’ll say I found you sleeping on the ground, next to the car, instead of in it. That way I only have to write you down for public intoxication. Otherwise it would be drunk driving.” … “I’m doing you a favor.”
He said it was a favor, but it felt more like a cheap coercive tactic to meet some crooked quota of the regional police force. “I’ll just say you were on the ground, you come back with me to the station and you sleep in a legal place, in the morning you go on your way.”
Suppressing my instincts I begrudgingly acquiesced. He called his superior officer to come and look at the situation. Apparently there was nothing else going on that night, so he headed right over. In the interim to his arrival the officer and I continued our exchange, everything the guy said I found offensive from its obviousness. “Do you have other cloths with you?” yes. “Why don’t you change into them before we go to the station?” Good idea idiot, I thought to myself. “Got anything in those cloths you need?” Yeah, my wallet. “Pull it out.” I did… except what I thought was my wallet was actually my friend’s whiskey flask. Haha! Even under persecution, the comedy of a situation is not lost on me. This isn’t my wallet, I said, must be in my other pants… The officer didn’t seem to find any of it near as humorous as I did. I changed cloths (Funnily enough, the cloths I was wearing when I alcohol-garlic posed myself were the same ones I were wearing in Spain when the exact same thing happened.). “Got any weapons on you?” Yeah. “What?” Knife. “Let’s put that with your other things.” The officer had my knife, vomit cloths, friend’s flask, and all other fun-time regalia placed in the trunk of vomit car. The sheriff of the no-fun zone arrived. I leaned against the car listening to the two of them talk, only about 2 meters away, my functional ears clearly able to hear what they were saying. This exchange was especially off-putting:
Sherriff: You say you found him on the ground next to the vehicle?
Cop: Yes.
Sherriff: Argh. If only you found him IN the car, we could have just left him alone to sleep it off; now you’ve got to arrest him.
With that comment the sheriff left. I told the cop I heard the exchange. The thing you told him wasn’t true! “Too late, I already made my call, now I have to take you in. You go, sign some things, and we’ll be done.” How will I get back to the car? “I’ll take you back in the morning.” The whole thing was wrong, but I played along. Fine, I’ll go to the station with you. “Ok. I’ve got to handcuff you before you are allowed in the car. Put your hands behind your back.” I was tired, and just wanted to go sign some paper and leave to get back to sleep, so I did. Before he put the cuffs on I said : Wait! Before you cuff me I need to go to the toilet. “#1?” I glared into his eyes and gave him a firm “NO.” I can see a gas station; take me there and let me go to the bathroom and then we can go to the station. “Ok, I’ll take you to the bathroom.” He cuffed me and put me in the back of his car. I’m a small person and this car was way too small for me. If they had needed to arrest a basketball player they would have needed to stretch him between a few cop cars! We started moving and he immediately drove past eh gas station. He never intended to take me there. Dick. He easily could have been a military recruiter, telling people anything in order to get them to register. If I had asked this guy to drive me to the moon, I’m sure his response would have been “sure, just get in the car.”
There are several reasons for being handcuffed with your hands behind your back. Safety for the officers, and making it more difficult for the cuffed to escape are chief among these reasons. This ramshackle squad of simps probably didn’t know any of that, but I was cuffed correctly regardless. I thought I’d make the guy look ridiculous, so when I was in the car I slipped the cuffs over my feet, Jacky Chan style, so that when I got out of the car my hands where in front.
I got out at the station, at which point the other officer was to pat me down. The looks on their faces when I got out was priceless, and I met their gaze of surprise with a poorly veiled smugness. The “good cop” said “… put your hands on the wall I guess, I’m going to pat you down.” As I did I looked at the officer who cuffed me and said: You see where my hands are? “…yes.” They used to be behind me. “I know.” But now they’re in front. “…yeah.” I looked at him as if to say “this makes you look bad”.
My fun came to a halt when the simple paper I had to sign was revealed to be a confirmation of my arrest. Arrest!? It’s a trap! Photos were taken, prints were taken, my wallet was taken, and I was put in a cell. I wasn’t there long before the “good cop” came in to interview me. He was a nice enough guy, and he looked and sounded like the character “cliff” from the show “cheers”, but I wasn’t in the mood to be locked up. He asked me a few questions, such as “where are you from?” and “How old are you?”. I must say, cops don’t seem to like it when you answer the same questions multiple times with a different answer each time. “What your social security number?” Don’t know. “You don’t know your social!?” No, and here’s a bit of trivia for you: when they were first introduced in the 30’s they explicitly stated they were not for identification purposes. You’re a cop. I’m sure you can find it. Now how’s this for a question: Why am I here? “you’re drunk, and were vagrant.” Am not. Give me a breathalyzer. “We don’t have one.” You don’t’ have one at the station!? When do I get to leave!? “When you sober up. We’ll let you go in the morning.” It’s after 5! This IS the morning! “Later then. Back to our questions. What do you do?” … I’m a student. “what do you study?” Exercise Science/ Kinesiology. “is that do help with our fighting?” … I didn’t mention anything about fighting; been going through my wallet? “It’s my job.” And a fine job you’re doing. “You seem nice. Normally when we arrest MMA fighters they scream and make a fuss about being a fighter, but you didn’t even mention it.” It didn’t come up in conversation. “Well, even though I like you, I can’t release you. You can stay here and get some good sleep for the next 8 hours or so.”
He left. It was just me and the two officers. Officer doucebagington told me not to get used to having the cell to myself since they would surely round up someone else. I doubted it, figuring we were the only people even in the town. I must’ve been right because no one else came. I had been in the cell alone a grand total of about a minute before I noticed a slotted circular indentation in the wall, with a bright red button next to it. “No way…” I thought to myself. I pushed the button and a loud beep came out, followed by an officer’s voice. “Hello?”. Is this an intercom!? “Yes.” I pushed again: BEEP! Why is this here!? Aren’t you worried about drunks and rabblers causing a ruckus with it!? “…we can shut it off on this end.” Oh. BEEEP! Can I leave? “No.” BEEEEEEP! When can I leave? “In a few hours…..” BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!! Ok.
I spent the next few hours working out. Officer friendly came in and said “practicing your martial arts eh?” Yeah. “Didn’t feel like sleeping?” It’s late. I’d been sleeping when I was wrongly taken here. “well, the state mandates I bring you breakfast, though you don’t look like the kind of guy who would eat his stuff.” He was right. I don’t think fruit loops and coffee is the best way to stop alcohol induced diarrhea. There was a yogurt cup and an orange though, which I cautiously consumed. I even made a go at jam picking the lock of the cell with the plastic spoon they gave me. It didn’t work, but at least it was comedically captured on the cell camera. As far as escaping goes, I’m sure I could have if I needed to. I had concocted 4 escape plans, only one of which would have gotten me shot, and most likely, not fatally. The place was poorly monitored, and they didn’t even take my belt away!
Eventually the nice officer came back and told me I could go when they were done changing staff. When the new day’s officers came in I should have been free to go. Almost but not quit… They kept passing the cell. Hey!, I would yell, I’m still in here! “We know. We still know. We’ll let you out when we’re don’t with our rounds.”
Somewhere between 9 and 10 am I was let out. First was the reclamation of my stolen articles. “Nash! Property return! One Wallet! Contents: One, one dollar bill, …. And 16 keys…” Thanks. “….Is that really correct?” yeah, Jealous? ( I actually was surprised at the number of keys. I did seem to have quite a few. The single dollar on the other hand was de reguor.) “Sign this.” I looked down with confusion. “It’s acknowledgement of receipt of court date.” Court date? “Yes, you have a court date here.” For what!? “You have been charged with disorderly conduct while intoxicated.” I wasn’t either of those! There’s nothing on this form about contesting the charges. “That’s not an option. You just show up to court to receive your penalty.” That’s not court, I thought to myself. As if to read my mind the cop said “ If you don’t show up we will issue a warrant for your arrest.” What about the car? I was told I could have a ride. “It’s close and right down the road, you can walk.” Assuming it didn’t’ get towed. “It didn’t. We’re the towing company, and the police.” … How do I get there?
His response in words was “go out these doors, take a left, and go straight. You’ll see it eventually.” , but the tone of his voice said “go out these doors and go fuck yourself.”
I left the station and began my walk. Once I hit the road I knew where I was. I’d driven past this place on the way to the wedding… and it was a 4 mile walk back to the car. I seethed the entire walk back. They expected me to drive 6 hours to come back to a town where the same building is the jailhouse, police station, courthouse, and towing yard? To a “court” that was just a sentencing for a thing I didn’t’ do, with no option of defense? All that would be waiting for me was a metaphorical noose. “we’ll issue a warrant for your arrest.” Happy hunting, I thought. I hope you dispense an entire task force and file for extradition to come get me, because I’m not showing up for that court date.
I got back to the car; finding it still filled with vomit; the smell from the hot sun baking the vomit in the car with no ventilation was overwhelming. I tried to build a protective layer of work out cloths on the seat so I didn’t have to sit in a pile of puke. This was AFTER cleaning the car as best I could, which only resulted in filing the parking lot with my vomit as well. I drove the 6 hours back from whence I had come, the while time trying not to pass out from the smell. Once I had made it back I gave the car a proper cleaning.
It took weeks for the smell to go away, and I would still occasionally find pieces of vomit hidden in the far off crevices, accented by maggots. It was not at all pleasant.
The time for my court date came, then went. I didn’t go. Bastards. I knew the warrant was only valid in the issuing state, and that I was too far away from them to go through the red tape to have me extradited. I was free…ish. A week later I received a letter from the court. Rather, it was a summons, explaining that I had a NEW court day, and if I missed this one they would be after me. I didn’t care. Didn’t care until I found out it would be the removal of my college financial aid. Assistance I needed to finish schooling. Dammit! Now I had to play their game; the whole thing was ridiculous. I talked to a couple attorneys and explained my case: The wrongful imprisonment, the 3 refusals to breathalize me, the fabrication of the initial report, everything. They agreed I could win. Then I talked to the court itself. They told me there would only be a fine, and the maximum was 150$ plus a court fee of 57$. This means that If I pleaded guilty or no contest it would run me about 200$ plus 100$ in gas, and 12 hours of total driving. I talked to the lawyers again, and one of them said they could go to court for a little over 300$. Great, as long I don’t have to drive 12 hours, it’s worth it. I hate driving. “Oh, you’d still have to show up.” What!? I would have to pay the lawyer AND drive? No thanks, I’ll just pay their damn fine and be done with it. But of course, it wasn’t as easy as all that.
On my court date I was otherwise engaged, so I phoned the court to have it moved. No dice. The court was scheduled to start at 9am, and it was 6 hours one way, if I couldn’t move the day maybe I could show up later. “No.” Could I show up on the telephone? Via computer? Anything not to drive? “No.” The lady explained how court would be conducted and told me to be there. Well then. I had little choice but to make the drive and leave obnoxiously late/ early. I stopped at a buddy’s house on the way, and told him what I was up to. “What!? You’re going to court? Since when do you play by the law?” I told him that I’d given the law a fair go when I talked to the officer that night; they had their chance, and we won’t be doing that anymore. His brother told me “you never have to go with the cops or talk to them. Ask if you’re being detained. If the answer is anything other than yes, just be on your way.” Noted. “So, you’re actually going to give them this?” I explained that I would concede o them the battle, in order to win the war. I would pay their 300$ now, and take 5,000$ later. As Sun Tzu stated “In order to make a crushing advance, sometimes you must retreat; such is the way of a tidal wave.”
I left at midnight, driving through the night stopping only to take a nap for an hour in some hotel’s parking lot as a vagrant. I arrived at the police station/jail/ tow lot/ courthouse about 7:30 am. Being cooped up and immobilized drives me to immediate insanity, plus it hurts my back. In order to mitigate these things I did my typical morning exercises in an open parking space in the lot (most of them were open) by a grassy area. After about 30 minutes I finished up and began to eat my breakfast (fruit) while leisurely leaning against the truck I had driven there. Then a couple cops showed up. One in a car, one on a motorcycle.
“What are you doing?” Eating a pear. “Uh. Huh. I see you’ve got some out of state plates here.” Yep. “Got your license with you?” Yeah. “Can I see it?” Sure, I said, handing him the license. He typed away on his little computer for a bit, looking confused before he said “Weird. Can’t seem to find you in the system…” I took another bite of my pear, smiling at my silent victory over the system. Of course he couldn’t find me, one of my greatest talents is slipping through he cracks. I took another bite of my pear, the awkward silence between the three of us shattered by my insubordinate curiosity. What is this about? “Well, some officers where monitoring you.. and we got a call that someone was blocking traffic with Tai Chi.” Yeah? “Yeah… but you’re not blocking traffic OR doing Tai Chi…” The officers seemed disappointed. Yeah, I’m just eating fruit and leaning on a truck, I said. “Well… WHERE you ding Tai Chi?” Yes, actually. Right here next to the truck. I had a stiff back from the long overnight drive. “You’re here for court? What for?” I explained my wrongful persecution. “Man, and you showed up anyway? Hey, I say if you want to do Tai Chi, you do all the Tai Chi you want man! You’re not hurting anyone or blocking traffic. Take care and good luck in court.” Thanks.
After the officers left, a civilian who also had court that day came up to talk to me to find out what they wanted . “Prejudiced jerks. This towns always going after people not from here. I only live a mile outside of town and they even ride MY ass!” That is not a reassuring thing to hear before you go to court.
After a few more minutes the building opened and I went in for court. Of course all the protocols that were explained to me over the phone where completely inapplicable and void. I was once again just improvising my way through a trepiditious situation.
My turn in court arose and I appealed to the judge; as eloquently as I could I stated my case before him and had a dialogue with the man. This man was, ironically, intelligent and calm. How he got in with this particular band of law enforcement monkeys I don’t know. Sir, I said, on top of my previously stated facts I was ill advised as to the proceedings today and only have enough cash for a 200$ fine ( I brought with me one of my decoy wallets, containing nothing but a license and cash. Should things not go my way they would not be rifling around my belongings again.) “Only enough cash for a 200$ fine? Well that’s if I give you the maximum fine. I don’t’ HAVE to give you the maximum you know. Do you want the maximum?” No sir. “Well I can’t have you pay nothing… how’s 20$?” Great!
Apparently I had swayed the judge in my favor. I felt like the lead character in “Good Will Hunting”. I paid my pithy fine, expunging any incidence of the event from whatever record there may be. Afterword’s I made like a bat out of hell to get out of that state. 6 hours later I was back to my shabby lodging and crashed out asleep. I had been up for almost 40 hours and decided to take a nap. That nap lasted for 14 hours. 14 glorious hours. I slept the sleep of the carefree and exhausted.
I fought the law… and I won.
-Nash
A friend of mine was getting married and he very much wanted me in attendance at the ceremony. He insisted on getting married despite my showing him concrete evidence that 100% of people who get divorced FIRST got married; marriage is an early warning sign. Be the facts as they may, he was happy with the idea of getting married and went to great lengths to make sure I knew of the wedding over half a year in advance, so I would have no excuse not to go. I told him if he wanted me there, I would be there. I said I’d even take off some of the dangly bits and put on something with sleeves and buttons. “Wow! That’s more than I’d ever expect from you. I’ll just be happy if you make it.” Make it I did.
A six hour drive to the northern most part of the Midwestern united states. A small sub city of a much larger city, where the cops are notorious for harassing anyone from out of town, and arresting people at the drop of a hat. In fact, the friend of mine who was getting married was arrested there for peeing in an alley. I arrived to the address I was given and was a bit confused; this was an Italian restaurant. People don’t have wedding at Italian restaurants… do they? Maybe I was just in denial given my disdain for Italian food, because yes, that is where the wedding was held. It was in a separate hall from the restaurant proper, but it was still an Italian restaurant. I walked in. “You made it!” said the bride, “I didn’t know you were actually coming.” … does that mean I don’t have a place to sit? “I’m sure we can arrange something.” I’ll wing it, no worries, and congratulations. About that time my friend the groom came in, nonchalantly talking to the bride. They don’t’ care much for the old superstitions, and were just happy to be getting married. “You made it!” he said, noticing me. “I was hoping you could take a break from dying in a forest somewhere long enough to make it.” Of course; I promised. He then produced a flask full of 50 year old whiskey he had been drinking to accentuate the occasion. “have some!” he said, thrusting it on me. We toasted and had some. He then went off to finish preparations, and pretty soon the wedding was underway.
It was a beautiful ceremony, and very light hearted given the crown in attendance. Once the reception began it was even livelier. Two open bars and lots of food. Therein lay the danger though. This place being an Italian restaurant and all there was a pretty good chance I was about to eat some garlic. Garlic and I don’t get along well, and it’s made much worse with the presence of alcohol. At this wedding alcohol had quit the presence. A couple hours of lively revelry found me ready to lie down. The only place I had to go was the car I drove there in. So to the car I went. It was 9pm now and I was asleep in the car, seat fully reclined, enjoying the fruits of my unconsciousness. At around 10 I woke up long enough to congratulate my buddy on his wedding and tell him bye as he was leaving past the car. “Where are you staying tonight? The car?” Yeah. “Ok, just don’t go anywhere. Cops here will arrest you for nothing.” With that bit of advice I went back to sleep. A few hours later, I was talking to the police.
It was 3am now. I rolled down the window and said to the officer “can I help you?”. “You been drinking?” Yes, about 6 hours ago. “I see you have out of state plates. What are you doing here?” I’m in for a wedding. “Where was it?” Here. 6 hours ago. “And where are you staying tonight?” The car. “I can’t let you do that; that’s vagrancy and it’s against the law.” It was working out pretty well for me before you got here. “Where are you going to go?” Back to sleep. “I can’t let you do that.” Why is that? “You’re drunk.” No, I WAS drunk. Now I’m tired. It’s after 3am. “Did you know you’re covered in vomit?” Yes. “What are you going to do about it?” Go back to sleep. “I don’t think so. Why don’t you step out of the car?”
So I got out of the car. (I’ll not be doing that again).
“I can’t leave you here as a vagrant, plus you may drive away drunk.” I’m not drunk, and I’m certainly not driving anywhere until daybreak. 15 minutes ago you thought I was dead! “Now I know you’re not. Why don’t you just come with me to the station so you’ve got a legal roof over you, and you can leave in the morning?” … I’d rather not. “Well how’s this? If you don’t I’ll have to take you in for drunk driving.” I’m not drunk! Give me a breathalyzer! “I don’t have one. “ You don’t have one!? You’re a cop and you don’t have one? “No” What about in your car? “No.” You don’t even have one in your car!?
That right there should tell you the caliber of “law enforcement” I was dealing with at the time.
I’m not drunk!, I protested. “ Well I’ll make it in your favor. I’ll say I found you sleeping on the ground, next to the car, instead of in it. That way I only have to write you down for public intoxication. Otherwise it would be drunk driving.” … “I’m doing you a favor.”
He said it was a favor, but it felt more like a cheap coercive tactic to meet some crooked quota of the regional police force. “I’ll just say you were on the ground, you come back with me to the station and you sleep in a legal place, in the morning you go on your way.”
Suppressing my instincts I begrudgingly acquiesced. He called his superior officer to come and look at the situation. Apparently there was nothing else going on that night, so he headed right over. In the interim to his arrival the officer and I continued our exchange, everything the guy said I found offensive from its obviousness. “Do you have other cloths with you?” yes. “Why don’t you change into them before we go to the station?” Good idea idiot, I thought to myself. “Got anything in those cloths you need?” Yeah, my wallet. “Pull it out.” I did… except what I thought was my wallet was actually my friend’s whiskey flask. Haha! Even under persecution, the comedy of a situation is not lost on me. This isn’t my wallet, I said, must be in my other pants… The officer didn’t seem to find any of it near as humorous as I did. I changed cloths (Funnily enough, the cloths I was wearing when I alcohol-garlic posed myself were the same ones I were wearing in Spain when the exact same thing happened.). “Got any weapons on you?” Yeah. “What?” Knife. “Let’s put that with your other things.” The officer had my knife, vomit cloths, friend’s flask, and all other fun-time regalia placed in the trunk of vomit car. The sheriff of the no-fun zone arrived. I leaned against the car listening to the two of them talk, only about 2 meters away, my functional ears clearly able to hear what they were saying. This exchange was especially off-putting:
Sherriff: You say you found him on the ground next to the vehicle?
Cop: Yes.
Sherriff: Argh. If only you found him IN the car, we could have just left him alone to sleep it off; now you’ve got to arrest him.
With that comment the sheriff left. I told the cop I heard the exchange. The thing you told him wasn’t true! “Too late, I already made my call, now I have to take you in. You go, sign some things, and we’ll be done.” How will I get back to the car? “I’ll take you back in the morning.” The whole thing was wrong, but I played along. Fine, I’ll go to the station with you. “Ok. I’ve got to handcuff you before you are allowed in the car. Put your hands behind your back.” I was tired, and just wanted to go sign some paper and leave to get back to sleep, so I did. Before he put the cuffs on I said : Wait! Before you cuff me I need to go to the toilet. “#1?” I glared into his eyes and gave him a firm “NO.” I can see a gas station; take me there and let me go to the bathroom and then we can go to the station. “Ok, I’ll take you to the bathroom.” He cuffed me and put me in the back of his car. I’m a small person and this car was way too small for me. If they had needed to arrest a basketball player they would have needed to stretch him between a few cop cars! We started moving and he immediately drove past eh gas station. He never intended to take me there. Dick. He easily could have been a military recruiter, telling people anything in order to get them to register. If I had asked this guy to drive me to the moon, I’m sure his response would have been “sure, just get in the car.”
There are several reasons for being handcuffed with your hands behind your back. Safety for the officers, and making it more difficult for the cuffed to escape are chief among these reasons. This ramshackle squad of simps probably didn’t know any of that, but I was cuffed correctly regardless. I thought I’d make the guy look ridiculous, so when I was in the car I slipped the cuffs over my feet, Jacky Chan style, so that when I got out of the car my hands where in front.
I got out at the station, at which point the other officer was to pat me down. The looks on their faces when I got out was priceless, and I met their gaze of surprise with a poorly veiled smugness. The “good cop” said “… put your hands on the wall I guess, I’m going to pat you down.” As I did I looked at the officer who cuffed me and said: You see where my hands are? “…yes.” They used to be behind me. “I know.” But now they’re in front. “…yeah.” I looked at him as if to say “this makes you look bad”.
My fun came to a halt when the simple paper I had to sign was revealed to be a confirmation of my arrest. Arrest!? It’s a trap! Photos were taken, prints were taken, my wallet was taken, and I was put in a cell. I wasn’t there long before the “good cop” came in to interview me. He was a nice enough guy, and he looked and sounded like the character “cliff” from the show “cheers”, but I wasn’t in the mood to be locked up. He asked me a few questions, such as “where are you from?” and “How old are you?”. I must say, cops don’t seem to like it when you answer the same questions multiple times with a different answer each time. “What your social security number?” Don’t know. “You don’t know your social!?” No, and here’s a bit of trivia for you: when they were first introduced in the 30’s they explicitly stated they were not for identification purposes. You’re a cop. I’m sure you can find it. Now how’s this for a question: Why am I here? “you’re drunk, and were vagrant.” Am not. Give me a breathalyzer. “We don’t have one.” You don’t’ have one at the station!? When do I get to leave!? “When you sober up. We’ll let you go in the morning.” It’s after 5! This IS the morning! “Later then. Back to our questions. What do you do?” … I’m a student. “what do you study?” Exercise Science/ Kinesiology. “is that do help with our fighting?” … I didn’t mention anything about fighting; been going through my wallet? “It’s my job.” And a fine job you’re doing. “You seem nice. Normally when we arrest MMA fighters they scream and make a fuss about being a fighter, but you didn’t even mention it.” It didn’t come up in conversation. “Well, even though I like you, I can’t release you. You can stay here and get some good sleep for the next 8 hours or so.”
He left. It was just me and the two officers. Officer doucebagington told me not to get used to having the cell to myself since they would surely round up someone else. I doubted it, figuring we were the only people even in the town. I must’ve been right because no one else came. I had been in the cell alone a grand total of about a minute before I noticed a slotted circular indentation in the wall, with a bright red button next to it. “No way…” I thought to myself. I pushed the button and a loud beep came out, followed by an officer’s voice. “Hello?”. Is this an intercom!? “Yes.” I pushed again: BEEP! Why is this here!? Aren’t you worried about drunks and rabblers causing a ruckus with it!? “…we can shut it off on this end.” Oh. BEEEP! Can I leave? “No.” BEEEEEEP! When can I leave? “In a few hours…..” BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!! Ok.
I spent the next few hours working out. Officer friendly came in and said “practicing your martial arts eh?” Yeah. “Didn’t feel like sleeping?” It’s late. I’d been sleeping when I was wrongly taken here. “well, the state mandates I bring you breakfast, though you don’t look like the kind of guy who would eat his stuff.” He was right. I don’t think fruit loops and coffee is the best way to stop alcohol induced diarrhea. There was a yogurt cup and an orange though, which I cautiously consumed. I even made a go at jam picking the lock of the cell with the plastic spoon they gave me. It didn’t work, but at least it was comedically captured on the cell camera. As far as escaping goes, I’m sure I could have if I needed to. I had concocted 4 escape plans, only one of which would have gotten me shot, and most likely, not fatally. The place was poorly monitored, and they didn’t even take my belt away!
Eventually the nice officer came back and told me I could go when they were done changing staff. When the new day’s officers came in I should have been free to go. Almost but not quit… They kept passing the cell. Hey!, I would yell, I’m still in here! “We know. We still know. We’ll let you out when we’re don’t with our rounds.”
Somewhere between 9 and 10 am I was let out. First was the reclamation of my stolen articles. “Nash! Property return! One Wallet! Contents: One, one dollar bill, …. And 16 keys…” Thanks. “….Is that really correct?” yeah, Jealous? ( I actually was surprised at the number of keys. I did seem to have quite a few. The single dollar on the other hand was de reguor.) “Sign this.” I looked down with confusion. “It’s acknowledgement of receipt of court date.” Court date? “Yes, you have a court date here.” For what!? “You have been charged with disorderly conduct while intoxicated.” I wasn’t either of those! There’s nothing on this form about contesting the charges. “That’s not an option. You just show up to court to receive your penalty.” That’s not court, I thought to myself. As if to read my mind the cop said “ If you don’t show up we will issue a warrant for your arrest.” What about the car? I was told I could have a ride. “It’s close and right down the road, you can walk.” Assuming it didn’t’ get towed. “It didn’t. We’re the towing company, and the police.” … How do I get there?
His response in words was “go out these doors, take a left, and go straight. You’ll see it eventually.” , but the tone of his voice said “go out these doors and go fuck yourself.”
I left the station and began my walk. Once I hit the road I knew where I was. I’d driven past this place on the way to the wedding… and it was a 4 mile walk back to the car. I seethed the entire walk back. They expected me to drive 6 hours to come back to a town where the same building is the jailhouse, police station, courthouse, and towing yard? To a “court” that was just a sentencing for a thing I didn’t’ do, with no option of defense? All that would be waiting for me was a metaphorical noose. “we’ll issue a warrant for your arrest.” Happy hunting, I thought. I hope you dispense an entire task force and file for extradition to come get me, because I’m not showing up for that court date.
I got back to the car; finding it still filled with vomit; the smell from the hot sun baking the vomit in the car with no ventilation was overwhelming. I tried to build a protective layer of work out cloths on the seat so I didn’t have to sit in a pile of puke. This was AFTER cleaning the car as best I could, which only resulted in filing the parking lot with my vomit as well. I drove the 6 hours back from whence I had come, the while time trying not to pass out from the smell. Once I had made it back I gave the car a proper cleaning.
It took weeks for the smell to go away, and I would still occasionally find pieces of vomit hidden in the far off crevices, accented by maggots. It was not at all pleasant.
The time for my court date came, then went. I didn’t go. Bastards. I knew the warrant was only valid in the issuing state, and that I was too far away from them to go through the red tape to have me extradited. I was free…ish. A week later I received a letter from the court. Rather, it was a summons, explaining that I had a NEW court day, and if I missed this one they would be after me. I didn’t care. Didn’t care until I found out it would be the removal of my college financial aid. Assistance I needed to finish schooling. Dammit! Now I had to play their game; the whole thing was ridiculous. I talked to a couple attorneys and explained my case: The wrongful imprisonment, the 3 refusals to breathalize me, the fabrication of the initial report, everything. They agreed I could win. Then I talked to the court itself. They told me there would only be a fine, and the maximum was 150$ plus a court fee of 57$. This means that If I pleaded guilty or no contest it would run me about 200$ plus 100$ in gas, and 12 hours of total driving. I talked to the lawyers again, and one of them said they could go to court for a little over 300$. Great, as long I don’t have to drive 12 hours, it’s worth it. I hate driving. “Oh, you’d still have to show up.” What!? I would have to pay the lawyer AND drive? No thanks, I’ll just pay their damn fine and be done with it. But of course, it wasn’t as easy as all that.
On my court date I was otherwise engaged, so I phoned the court to have it moved. No dice. The court was scheduled to start at 9am, and it was 6 hours one way, if I couldn’t move the day maybe I could show up later. “No.” Could I show up on the telephone? Via computer? Anything not to drive? “No.” The lady explained how court would be conducted and told me to be there. Well then. I had little choice but to make the drive and leave obnoxiously late/ early. I stopped at a buddy’s house on the way, and told him what I was up to. “What!? You’re going to court? Since when do you play by the law?” I told him that I’d given the law a fair go when I talked to the officer that night; they had their chance, and we won’t be doing that anymore. His brother told me “you never have to go with the cops or talk to them. Ask if you’re being detained. If the answer is anything other than yes, just be on your way.” Noted. “So, you’re actually going to give them this?” I explained that I would concede o them the battle, in order to win the war. I would pay their 300$ now, and take 5,000$ later. As Sun Tzu stated “In order to make a crushing advance, sometimes you must retreat; such is the way of a tidal wave.”
I left at midnight, driving through the night stopping only to take a nap for an hour in some hotel’s parking lot as a vagrant. I arrived at the police station/jail/ tow lot/ courthouse about 7:30 am. Being cooped up and immobilized drives me to immediate insanity, plus it hurts my back. In order to mitigate these things I did my typical morning exercises in an open parking space in the lot (most of them were open) by a grassy area. After about 30 minutes I finished up and began to eat my breakfast (fruit) while leisurely leaning against the truck I had driven there. Then a couple cops showed up. One in a car, one on a motorcycle.
“What are you doing?” Eating a pear. “Uh. Huh. I see you’ve got some out of state plates here.” Yep. “Got your license with you?” Yeah. “Can I see it?” Sure, I said, handing him the license. He typed away on his little computer for a bit, looking confused before he said “Weird. Can’t seem to find you in the system…” I took another bite of my pear, smiling at my silent victory over the system. Of course he couldn’t find me, one of my greatest talents is slipping through he cracks. I took another bite of my pear, the awkward silence between the three of us shattered by my insubordinate curiosity. What is this about? “Well, some officers where monitoring you.. and we got a call that someone was blocking traffic with Tai Chi.” Yeah? “Yeah… but you’re not blocking traffic OR doing Tai Chi…” The officers seemed disappointed. Yeah, I’m just eating fruit and leaning on a truck, I said. “Well… WHERE you ding Tai Chi?” Yes, actually. Right here next to the truck. I had a stiff back from the long overnight drive. “You’re here for court? What for?” I explained my wrongful persecution. “Man, and you showed up anyway? Hey, I say if you want to do Tai Chi, you do all the Tai Chi you want man! You’re not hurting anyone or blocking traffic. Take care and good luck in court.” Thanks.
After the officers left, a civilian who also had court that day came up to talk to me to find out what they wanted . “Prejudiced jerks. This towns always going after people not from here. I only live a mile outside of town and they even ride MY ass!” That is not a reassuring thing to hear before you go to court.
After a few more minutes the building opened and I went in for court. Of course all the protocols that were explained to me over the phone where completely inapplicable and void. I was once again just improvising my way through a trepiditious situation.
My turn in court arose and I appealed to the judge; as eloquently as I could I stated my case before him and had a dialogue with the man. This man was, ironically, intelligent and calm. How he got in with this particular band of law enforcement monkeys I don’t know. Sir, I said, on top of my previously stated facts I was ill advised as to the proceedings today and only have enough cash for a 200$ fine ( I brought with me one of my decoy wallets, containing nothing but a license and cash. Should things not go my way they would not be rifling around my belongings again.) “Only enough cash for a 200$ fine? Well that’s if I give you the maximum fine. I don’t’ HAVE to give you the maximum you know. Do you want the maximum?” No sir. “Well I can’t have you pay nothing… how’s 20$?” Great!
Apparently I had swayed the judge in my favor. I felt like the lead character in “Good Will Hunting”. I paid my pithy fine, expunging any incidence of the event from whatever record there may be. Afterword’s I made like a bat out of hell to get out of that state. 6 hours later I was back to my shabby lodging and crashed out asleep. I had been up for almost 40 hours and decided to take a nap. That nap lasted for 14 hours. 14 glorious hours. I slept the sleep of the carefree and exhausted.
I fought the law… and I won.
-Nash