The Second Time I Got Arrested

Subtitle: A Really Long Story You Probably Don't Need to Read

Every time I start to feel like I’m getting old, getting dull, something happens to remind me that I’m still just a young buck.

Case in point: today at work, I was standing at the copy machine, doing that bleary-eyed, watching-copies-pass thing, when suddenly from behind me I hear the unmistakable sound of a police walkie-talkie and the jingle-jangle of keys hooked to a belt loop. Instantly, and may I add, without my permission, every single muscle in my body tensed. I began shuffling around the papers in front of me—stay busy, don’t look up, what did you even do??

I have no idea what members of the Pitt Police force were doing here in my office, but they certainly weren’t looking for me. However, my reaction to police presence is exactly what it was a few years ago, except back then I was probably doing something that would spark the ire of an officer of the law.

Thus, I think it’s time to tell one of my favorite stories. I call it “The Second Time I Got Arrested.”

The first time I got arrested was hardly a noteworthy affair. It didn’t even require handcuffs, as I’d pretty well gone and incapacitated myself. Not as funny of a story, trust me.

But the second time, oh the second time is a funny story. The month was July, the year 2002. Kacyn and I were roommates, and there was nary a voice of reason between the two of us. Mayhem. I got myself into more trouble that spring/summer than in any other given season of my life.

One night we were out with our friends Dan and Mike. It was hot, humid and miserable, as July evenings in Pittsburgh tend to be. One of us wished aloud that we could go swimming.
"Hey," said Dan, "I know a pool we can swim in that the cops never patrol!"

We never should have listened.

We parked the car near this allegedly unpatrolled pool, in the Blackridge community in the Churchill section of Pittsburgh. I stress "allegedly." One hopped fence later, and we're in. No more than five minutes into our swim session, underwear-style, do I think I see a light coming from the woods.

"Oh no, you're just paranoid!" I was taunted.

They should have goddamn listened.

A few seconds later, we're all bathed in a blinding light. It was like something out of alien encounters-- shit was scary. "YOU'RE BUSTED! GET OUT OF THERE!"

Awesome. Do you know how hard it is to put on clothes when you're sopping wet? Furthermore, do you know how much more difficult it is to put on semi-tight, ripped up jeans when sopping wet and a cop is screaming at you through a chain link while dangling his handcuffs? Yeah. I got my pants to about mid-thigh, t-shirt around my neck, and started climbing back over the fence. The strap of my bag got caught on one of the spiky tips of the fence, and as I was untangling it, the cop turned the light to me. "YOU CAN JUST LEAVE THAT BAG THERE, LITTLE MISSY." (I have no idea why I feel like I need to have the cop speak in capital letters. In my mind, he was speaking through a megaphone. That never really happened.)

When I finally hit the ground on the other side, myself and my three co-dependants were lined up, kneeling against a bike rack, legs crossed, hands behind our backs. For all the legal trouble I’ve been in (I blame this teenage rebellion on a lack of nurturing from my parents), this is the only time I was ever cuffed. It was not an entirely unpleasant experience, as the cop assigned to Kacyn and me was supercute. Yeah, that's right, supercute. The cop assigned to Mike and Dan, not so much. Mike’s glasses fell to the ground. He asked the officer to pick them up. "FUCK YOUR GLASSES, ACE! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR GLASSES!"
Ridiculous.

Kacyn and I were herded into the back of NiceCuteYoungCop's car. He climbs in the front, sighs, and starts the engine. Immediately, blasting from the speakers is Sabbath's "Ironman." Instinctively Kacyn and I begin bobbing our heads and singing along, but really just mouth-guitaring along. "Da na na na na na, NANANANANANANANANA" you know. That song. The cop turns it off. "Sorry girls," he says, "this isn't supposed to be fun."

Long story short (too late) we were taken into the station, and part of our punishment, I suppose, was MeanUncuteOldCop turning the air conditioning all the way up as we sat, cuffed and dripping wet. Thanks, officer. We were lectured for about an hour, including such phrases as, "Do you know what I can charge you with? What you did was one step below murder!" and "Don't you dare try to fight this in court, I will personally take you down!"

We were all let off with comparative (to murder, I guess) slaps on the wrist- a charge of Defiant Criminal Trespass, and a $400 fine. MeanUncuteOldCop drove us back to Kacyn's car and made all four of us sit in the backseat.

And that, my friends, is the story of the second time I ever got arrested.