This hopefully will be the third and final installment of "i fought the law". I will begin this segment with a predecessor evening where I lucked out... big time.

The beginning of that night begins around 5 p.m. at the local bar. I don't believe there was a special occasion of any kind, but then again at 24 years old I really didn't need one as alcohol was my only fix. Several hours and drinks later a cohort and I were off to fetch some Cd's for the shitty DJ that could not play a decent song to save his soul. Fall down drunks that we were, somehow managed to make a wonderful decision to take my car up the road three blocks to my apartment. Yes, yes... great idea.

I'm also a showoff, I can not just drive normally, and obviously couldn't just WALK the three blocks... So! I light up my tires in first gear, second gear, and barked them in third gear as we flew through the 25 zone at 40. ...blah blah blah... again with the flashing red lights. This time I was a little too incapacitated to really understand the possibilities of corrective actions and punishments... and who cares!! Go get the CD's Shannon!!

I pulled over at our destination and rolled out of my car, and no, did not roll out of my car because it sits low to the ground, I rolled out of it because I had absolutely no hand, eye, leg, upper body coordination.

All that nonsense aside, I knew the local police officer that pulled me over. In fact, Shannon, my cohort was this particular officers supplier of smoked lunches... so I had it in the bag. He did however warn me that I needed to hang up my keys for the evening, but he also decided against writing me up for exhibition, careless, or reckless driving. We were home free, there was some other mumble-jumble in all that nonsensical banter of his, but fuck!... did I leave my drink at the bar?

It was a few months later that my place of employment had a catastrophic turn of events unravel on all of us...
...

seriously. (that is one of the actual news photos)
Remedy for this current state of turmoil was to ship a handful of us that could, off to a sister company 200 miles away. We were put in hotel rooms and received free meals and cable TV... I was 24, I could not have asked for a better set up. Especially once I found out that our quarters were suites and I happened to receive the hottest coed available to bunk with with night club and a strip joint right up the road.

Times were fun and exciting for the first 7 weeks, but as weeks passed, my vixen got shipped home, Shannon from my previous crime got shipped home, and eventually there were only two of us left. For another three weeks the fun of flirting, pranks, and sexual conspiracies were gone. Terry and myself watched many HBO comedy specials together, drank quite a bit together, and talked about hot chicks together until we were struck with absolute sickness for home and friends.

But when that glorious day was upon us to go home and join our fellow comrades, we were beyond excited. It was 10 a.m... we could be back home in two hours or less, depending on how I drove. So we gathered up all of our luggage, food we had collected, and packed ourselves in the car.

Driving north along the interstate somewhere between 90 and 100 mph we were making excellent timing. We talked about how cool it would be to return to working with everyone, and we laughed about all the shit we had done while we weaved in and out of traffic. Midway through our journey home we popped up over a hill and we were laughing so hard we barely noticed the highway patrol car parked near an exit.

Slamming on the breaks at this point is worthless since we were passing other cars like they were standing still. The patrol car did not even wait for us to pass him, he flipped on the lights and escorted us to the shoulder of the road. Terry and I continued to sit in the car, smug expressions on our faces because we would have one last story to share during our homecoming visits.

I looked back to watch massive state trooper approaching my car, and like an old habit, I instinctively rolled down my window and handed him my vehicle documentation. He peered inside the vehicle with his big buffalo head and squinted his eyes at us.. he then sniffed the air like a dog catching the hot scent of a female, stared at me briefly before he shuffled my license in his hand and walked away. Moments later he returned and asked us both to step out of the vehicle. The behemoth escorted us to the backside of my vehicle and asked us to place our hands on the car.

Okay, stop. What the fuck??! I'm looking at Terry as if we're about to become the new lead roles for the latest Wes Craven flick as I am being felt up on the interstate, cars whipping past me at 75 mph, my dignity now somewhere between church confession and masturbation. After I was patted down from armpits to ankles and every crevice in between he asked me to slip off my boots. Which I did. It's not like I'm not going to listen to the man, he's a million feet tall... and he's the size of a small house, and he has a gun! So I whipped my boots off and tossed them over to him, and I stood there watching him in disgust as he is smelling my boots, pulling the cushions out and inspecting the soles.

I still stood there... eyes wide, mouth open, drool dripping with this retarded look on my face as he begins the same routine with Terry.

The monster turns to look at us, he takes a second to adjust his "Sheriff Deb" glasses and the proceeds to tell us we can put our shoes on. He then walks over to my car and immediately begins rifling through the seats. He's pulling down my visor and lifting up the floor mats. I'm still trying to figure out just what in the fuck is happening as I can here the latch to my trunk pop. Suddenly I forget how to tie my shoes, I forget that I even have eyelids because I refuse to blink with this dumbfounded expression on my face as I watch the trooper pull our bags out of the back of my car.

He's rummaging through our bags pulling all the clothes out one by one, checking pockets, unraveling the balled up mess of my shirts, and making sure the entire contents of the bag has been inspected. He opens a king size sharpie marker I had stuffed in my work belt and sniffs it to ensure it was really a sharpie.

I could only shake my head in disbelief as he pulled the cooler out of the back and opened the lid. The first thing trooper McSnoopy pulled out was Terry's jar of peanut butter, we sat there paralyzed as he unscrewed the lid and sniffed the Jif. This process continued with everything that was previously opened and finally ended with half a loaf of bread. Watching him pilfer through my Sarah Lee goodness, fingering every last slice of moist perfection, I had finally had enough...

"Excuse me officer, I'm not exactly sure I understand what you're doing here... or what this is all about, I mean.. *clear throat* ..is this really necessary? I know I was speeding... "

He looked at me with one eyebrow cocked as he mashed my bread back into the cooler with the rest of our violated groceries. The giant then shook his head as whipped out his tablet and asked me to sit in the squad car.

I looked at Terry blankly as I shuffled my ass to the car. I plopped into the seat and folded my arms in a huffing breath like some 4 year old that couldn't have ice cream. Terry was on his way back to my car as the trooper came to sit with me.

"So you do know why I pulled you over... good, you'll be receiving a ticket today for speeding. Do you have twenty dollars?"

WHAT?!?!?! What is this shit. I couldn't even stammer my confusion before he answered my question...

"You have a seat belt violation from 90 days ago that is delinquent. What that means is you have a bench warrant for your arrest, so unless you can pay me the twenty dollar fine, I'll have to take you to jail. Do you have twenty dollars?"

I reached for my wallet, fumbling with it wildly as the word "jail" filtered through my mind. I had a 5$. A fucking 5$. No check book. The state patrol does not accept credit or debit cards. I am hosed. The officer then exited his vehicle and walked up to my car. Does Terry have twenty bucks?!?!?! Or is he telling him he's gonna have to drive himself home because I'm being incarcerated...?!?!?!? Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.


Trooper walked back to the squad car... I noticed him out of the corner of my eye. I was in la-la land, fixated on staring into nothing when I felt the car plummet to the ground as the behemoth sat down.

"I don't know where you hid that pot kid, but you're free to go." He flashed a check in front of me that Terry had written him.

"I wasn't smoking pot." ...I stammered. I hadn't smoked pot in over a year. Terry didn't smoke, not even cigarettes.

The massive, buffalo headed trooper looked at me... he locked with my eyes for a moment and I suddenly felt like I was six years old again and in trouble for smudging the windows with my greasy little paws... awkward. So I quickly let myself out of the car, and told Terry everything the guy said. We laughed like a couple of potheads until the "giddy" wore off, and I noticed how much my speeding ticket was going to cost.