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Well, he didnāt like Ryan, so thatās okay you see! /s
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Itās just that 30 years later and you donāt seem the least bit ashamed of what happened and your role in causing physical violence to someone just because you didnāt like them. Itās one thing to have that in your past, itās quite another to seemingly tout is as a funny story that youāre acting proud of.
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Iāve been pulled over A LOT and Iāve never been pranked that I know about (assuming it was a prank). The taste of authority does weird things to people. Also, your father sounds like an entertaining person.
In my USAF days doing graveshift on the flightline, if we saw a cop had fallen asleep in their vehicle (not hard to do, watching aircraft mechanics at 2am) weād put a wheel chock three or four feet ahead of the passenger-side rear tire, and then wake up the cop and tell them theyāre needed āover thereā. Gave them enough time to get a little speed before the rear tire bounced up over the chock (or stopped the vehicle entirely).
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Oh man this one time I was skinning neighborhood cats Iād caught in my homemade paw trapsā¦it was so great. Every now and again a toddler would get caught in one and oh wow they screamed real loud!
HA
ha
ha
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Remember that time we were so full of self loathing that we behaved badly and then judged anyone who told us we behaved badly, told them they were just judgey?
Alcohol is a hell of a drug, but combine it with an ego already lacking boundaries and someone is gonna leave violated.
I remember this one time the copsā¦ oh, wait, somehow I have never had to deal with the cops while intoxicated. After a 25 year run, i donāt think thatās chance (or strictly because I am a white guy). I turn down the radio, donāt drive, and donāt let my friends punch people they dislike. Call me a party-pooper! Maybe the cops canāt see me up on the high horse? Maybe itās that.
There is also the time I got harassed by a cop while driving home in 2003, very clearly for my anti-war bumper sticker (he very much was focusing on that quadrant of my truck). Not pulled over, just menaced for several miles. So I wrote a letter to him (long story, but someone knew who it was) , cc:d his boss, the town counsel, the town selectmen, and the attorney general of my state. I got an informal visit letting me know the matter was dropped on their end.
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Iāve been stopped seven times over the course of two years, all while on foot, all for walking in public. Also pointedly followed once, and also had lights and sirens flashed at me one night, presumably by the same guy/outfit whoād stopped me the night before because it was at the same place at the same time of night. (I was there to repeat the previous walk so I wouldnāt develop an aversive response. I guess he or one of his buddies was there waiting for me? Seems like obviously yes.) I was also filmed by police cellphone on my way into a grocery store and again on the way out, presumably because I walked there.
At least around here and apparently a lot of other places walking is no longer considered normal. Same as with the part of Melzās story ā which did have a great ending ā about people calling the police for walking in a tunnel. Itās the same deal ā¦ youāre being different, youāre standing out, and youāre not supposed to do that.
So Iāve seen a lot of police procedure in stops, a lot of field interrogation, and I donāt think theyāre doing it right. Their approach has the side-effect of leaving people feeling bullied, wronged and abused, of leaving a trail of ill will wherever they go (in too many cases). Just like with the Uber driver.
And after this many encounters, I feel ā¦ hunted. Itās not good. Thereās a pressure, a psychological headwind which didnāt used to be there. My walks arenāt the same now, which may be the intended effect. I now think of them as Freedom of Navigation walks, and I have to steel myself against possible resistance when Iād rather just be enjoying them, preferably in a creative revery.
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I used to be a regular attendee at underground drum & bass warehouse parties around Sydney. One of the more popular venues was an old meat-packing plant known as the Graffiti Hall of Fame:
Anyway, it was a pretty safe bet on any given night that the cops would show up and try to shut it down. But the venue provided some advantagesā¦
The warehouse had an upstairs and downstairs dancefloor, but the main DJs and best dancefloor was in the open courtyard outside. To get into the venue, you had to come through a narrow (and very defensible) corridor, then into the courtyard, then into the warehouse.
Anyway, what happened: the cops showed up as usual. Before they got in, about a hundred dancers piled into the entrance corridor. Not to fight, just to talk: āfolks are just here to dance, why are you trying to stop them?ā etc.
However, given that most of the conversationalists were heavily intoxicated on a variety of psychedelics, the discussion got somewhat surreal. And then one of the DJs snuck a microphone into the crowdā¦
They captured sound samples of the arguments with the cops, and mixed them live into the music. This worked two ways: firstly, it allowed the dancers to monitor the police progress, so the legally-vulnerable people would know when to run and hide. Secondly, it was funny as fuck, as the DJs cut and spliced the conversation in order to make the cops sound as silly as possible.
It took them about forty minutes to push their way through the door, after which they triumphantly marched over to the DJs and cut the power. The second that they did this, a dozen guys with unamplified hand drums jumped up and kept the music going; the dancing crowd didnāt miss a beat.
After that, the cops gave up and went home.
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Ashamed? Look, Iām not ashamed and Iām not proud. Iām not touting anything. Iām just telling a story. Good, bad, or indifferent.
Iām not sure why you or anybody seem to think Iām ābraggingā. But that doesnāt matter to me anymore. This is my last comment on this site.
File Transfer Protocolā¦?
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That soundsā¦either terrifying or comforting. Depends on how it went down, I suppose. Also: Glad Iāve never had to deal with that and hope I never do (stalker cop).
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Itās sort of weird when a police Lt stops by your house in plainclothes, and escalates nothing with you. It wasnāt terrifying, if they wanted to make it worse theyād have invited me to the station, where you have fewer rights once you walk in that door.
The words ādesk dutyā and ānext six monthsā were offered, and I agreed to let it drop too.
We do have some power, but you cannot beg for your rights and expect to realize them.
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Once, riding home from school with some friends, a cop pulled us over. We all wondered why. The cops looked in the car, pointed to me, and said, āYouā¦get out.ā
A friend of mine who lived just down the street also got out.
āWere you giving us the finger?ā the cop asked me. I was baffled and said no.
The cop then put his hand on the side of the car and said, āWell you had your hand out like this and it sure looked like you were.ā
I really did have my hand outside the car but I wasnāt intentionally making any gesture. And even if I were I hadnāt seen the cops so it wasnāt directed at them. I blubbered a huge apology and my friend, who knew the cop (they were neighbors) spoke up in my defense.
Iām still baffled by this incident and all too aware that my skin color had a lot to do with me not being hauled to jail, or worse, because clearly this cop was pissed off about something and looking for someone to take it out on.
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Yeah, all I hear in his statement is: āHey you, Iām looking to beat the shit out of a young person today and youāre the first easy candidate Iāve come across. Give me the other half of a non-reason to kick your ass.ā
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Just noticed this on PBS
ā¦ Check your local listings ā¦
"The Talk ā Race in America is a two-hour documentary about the increasingly common conversation taking place in homes and communities across the country between parents of color and their children, especially sons, about how to behave if they are ever stopped by the police. In many homes, āthe talk,ā as it is called, usually contains phrases like this:
If you are stopped by the police: . . . "
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Nope.
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The way you wrote the story came off as bragging. I donāt think anyone would have jumped down your throat if you had written it differently, but it came off to several of us as almost bragging about what happened. We canāt see your face or hear your tone. We can only go by what you wrote down. If several of us read it in a particular way, maybe there is something in how you wrote the story that gives off a particular vibe that you didnāt intend.
Okay. Have a good one!
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Ah! So the āTā stands for 'Thaā
Now I understand
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