Last night we had my in-laws over for our weekly “Taco Night” with the girls and Johnny and myself. We have tacos every Thursday evening and it’s something we all look forward to. We were just finishing up dessert around 8:00 pm when the doorbell rang. The AT&T guys have been here repeatedly this last week pitching their new fiber optic cable technology so I just assumed it was them and kept clearing dishes as Johnny went and answered the door. A few minutes passed and Johnny came back into the kitchen.
Jingle Bail Rock
He looked funny. Red-faced and awkward.
Me: What’s up? It was those damn AT&T guys, huh? I knew it! What a tenacious bunch!
Johnny: Uh, no.
Me: Oh. Who, then?
Johnny: Um, honey? Um, there are some officers here that are going to take you to jail.
Me: I am doing dishes, hon. I don’t have time for jail.
Me: WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!
Okay, let’s back up.
Six months ago I was boating with some gal pals on a sunny July afternoon. I was “pulled over” by the Wildlife Resources Agency on a standard “safety check”. The officer was to make sure we had adequate flotation devices as well as fire extinguishers and current registration. We *mostly* did. We were short 2 life jackets as we were informed that the Coast Guard flotation devices don’t cut the mustard for the WRA guys. I was issued a citation and he lent me two life vests for the rest of our excursion. Fair enough. The next day I returned the life vests and consequently mailed them a big fat check for the ridiculous fine this infraction warranted. Seriously, it was over $200. Ridiculous. I told some of my friends that day that I doubted some of their lives were really worth that kind of fine. I mean, COME ON.
Anyway, I really hadn’t given it another thought. Until last night when Johnny Law and his Sidekick “Snuff-Lip” showed up at my front door. Now let it be said that it was a total family affair. Johnny pleaded, threatened and tried to cajole my captors into a more reasonable solution. My Father in Law literally whispered for me to sneak out the back door and run. YES, HE DID. My Mother in Law was about to resort to bribery before Johnny wisely caught her. The entire thing was so completely retarded that I finally just took off all my jewelry and grabbed my coat.
Me: Let’s go, Assholes.
Johnny Law: Ma’am, I am an officer…
Me: Yeah, whatever. You have a tiny penis, I get it.
Johnny Law: Just you hold on, ma’am. I’m going to need to search your purse.
Me: Oh, I see. Do you need a tampon?
Johnny Law: Ma’am. I’m going to …
Me: What? Handcuff me? Please say you’re going to handcuff me!
Well, he did. Turns out, they didn’t find me funny…AT ALL.
I rode handcuffed, in the back of their pick-up truck (the back seat, not in the bed like a dead deer, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if that’s where they put me) for over an hour into the NEXT COUNTY with Johnny and Snuff-Lip. Snuff-Lip was simple and sweet. Johnny Law was bitter and out to prove something. I’m still not sure what. Snuff-Lip and I managed to irritate Officer Law as we sang Christmas carols and chatted about Oprah, kids and meth labs. Upon our arrival to the pokey, I extended my handcuffed hand and smiled sweetly. “It has been an absolute pleasure”, I purred.
That wasn’t exactly the reaction he expected, or wanted. “Of all the times I’ve been arrested, this was certainly one of the most pleasant”, I continued. His brow furrowed.
After that it was all shits and giggles. They “booked” me on a “failure to appear” charge that was in the small print of the citation that I had received. Oops. Good to see our tax payer dollars going to good use, eh? Evidently just paying the fine wasn’t good enough.
I was stripped of my coat, my boots, my scarf and my belt. I was given some nasty-ass orange Crocs to wear and thrown into a teeny tiny cinderblock cell. It was bright white. No windows of course, just a cement bench and a stainless steel toilet. A Delorian! There was another *lady* in there with me who looked like she wanted to spoon. That was totally the scariest part. She was dressed up. Well, redneck dressed up, anyway. She had on a sequined Muu Muu with a plunging neckline and dress slacks. She was not slight of frame. Her foot fat was peeking up over her shoes and her mascara had run. My guess was post-Christmas party DUI, but I have no idea.
They drug me out of my cell to get fingerprinted and then, yes, oh glory days…MUG SHOTS! OMG! TMZ! I have mug shots now! How utterly ridiculous. I guess I’ll never be First Lady. Damn. I kind of think I was probably out of the running before all of this, but still… so sad to see my dream of public office slip away over absent flotation devices.
Anyway, shortly thereafter my knight in shining armor showed up in the form of a Bail Bondsman. Good grief. He shook his head back and forth as he looked at my paperwork. “This is just downright silly”. I agree, Sir. I felt like Arlo Guthrie in his watermark song, “Alice’s Restaurant“. There I was, amongst the the mother rapers and father rapers and what was I in for? LITTERING.
I was eventually released. I *may* have taken a full-body bath in hand sanitizer upon said release. Ick.
As you long time readers know, I often try to take something positive from a negative situation. I’m like Oprah that way, really. So, you might ask…what did I learn or take away from this experience? I’ll tell you.
It was complete and utter bullshit. Oh, wait a minute. I did learn something!
No one should ever, ever wear Crocs. Not even in jail.