A Run-In with the Police

After an underwhelming hour of lesbian karaoke, Lindsay and I drive to a 7-11 and pick up some forties. I ask where we should take them, and Lindsay suggests a park. I inform her that, it being 1 am, technically the parks are "closed," but Lindsay says that she doesn't care. We sit on the miniature bleachers of the baseball field and shoot the shit for a while, drinking our Cobras concealed in brown paper bags. Though a little cold, it's pleasant. I've been in this park at later hours more times than I can count and, without getting specific, I have done far worse things than sipping on malt liquor. Never once have I encountered any trouble.

Wouldn't you know it? A police car shows up, then another one. Other than mine, there is one other civilian car parked in the lot and apparently the police officers find some people in it and begin to interrogate them. At a safe distance and shrouded by the dark, Lindsay and I quickly stash our beverages behind a trash can then proceed to innocently sit at a picnic table and have a conversation. Lindsay panics a bit, but I tell her we'll be fine as long as we play dumb to the trespassing business and not mention the public drinking (or urination for that matter -- the restroom is locked, so I help myself to home plate.)

Both police cars flash their high beams on us so I proceed to wave like a dumbass to demonstrate that we are friendly people, not scum. They read out my name, which they must have obtained from looking up my car's registration information, so I answer.

"The parks are closed!" one officer shouts as we walk closer to them. "Do you live at [address]?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Then should know that this park closes at 10."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware," I plea.

"All of the parks in town close at 10 except for the wilderness park," responds the officer.

"When does the wilderness park close?" Lindsay asks, as if she remotely cares. I realize that she is inquiring as a way of making casual conversation and seeming less drunk, even though it just serves to incriminate her more. Oddly, he directs his questioning to me.

"Have you been drinking?" the officer asks me.

"No," I reply.

"Really?" he asks again.

"Well, a few hours ago," I say, wondering if I look that horrible. Granted, I'm flinching, but that's because there are two sets of headlights shining directly in my face.

"Have you been drinking?" the officer asks Lindsay.

"No," she says.

The officer believes her, apparently, telling me, "You should let her drive. Get out of here."

This puts me in an odd predicament, because I am the one who is not too impaired to drive, and I cannot say the same of Lindsay. Good call on that one, copper. For the sake of safety and legality, I disobey the officer's instruction and take my position in the driver's seat. The officers watch me do this, so I'm pretty convinced that they'll pull me over shortly thereafter, but as I've beaten a wrongful accusation of DUI in the past, I figured I could handle that again. Instead, the officers speed off down a 20 MPH road going about 50 MPH just because they can. I'm perplexed by them, because what the hell are their priorities? They successfully "protect" their town by removing two people chatting in a park after dark, but then turn a blind eye to someone they believe to be intoxicated operating a motor vehicle. Ugh.

Me driving isn't the only order I disobeyed: within three minutes, we are back in the park. Since more than anything we wanted to reclaim our 40s, I drive us in a circle, park on the street, and we dash through/around sprinklers to where we hid our beverages in order to retrieve them. I mean, those things are like $3 a pop, we are not about to ditch them when they're half full! Rebels with an insignificant cause!

That is my daring run-in with the law. Behaving like a teenager is the only way I manage to have fun these days.