At the time I failed to see much humor in this particular story, however now that some time has passed, in hindsight it is worthy of a post.
The night started out pretty simple, MJ and the woman had stopped by to make some dinner and partake in some pre-drinking before the real pre-drinking started. Typical Saturday night at the Clamidia House. Dinner was great, MJ showed off his cooking skills from working at an Italian restaurant for a good part of high school. Had a nice bottle of wine, basically the night was starting out pretty innocent. I must admit, that was one of the better meals I had in a while. Filling, as this will become important later.
Post dinner the boys start rolling in. Being DSC material everyone is lock step in the code of bringing way more booze than anticipated. DSC002, Smiley, Stein, Ari, and the rest of us all keep following standard DSC SOP by breaking out the bottle of vodka, and mixing it with liquid crack jail juice. As any good night starts, we leave for some new club already halfway blacked out. Following our DSC credo, we also decided to wear suit jackets out that night. All this really managed to accomplish was to add a sense that we can do no wrong if we are dressed nice. Right? Well made sense at the time, still does. And just to add to the mix everyone was all over the college kid free coke program, commonly known as Adderall. So before we leave the apartment, we have now managed to create a good mixture of booze, two uppers, testosterone, and arrogance. No wonder the night ended up where it did.
Smiley’s brother was the bartender at this new club above the strip joint downtown. We will call it Tabu. Once again, other than being blacked out, nothing was really too out of the norm here except the fact there were strippers doing their thing right in the middle of the dance floor. We had a grand time showing dollar bills down the woman’s tits and watching the stripper fish them out. Some things never get old, kind of like masterbation. DSC002 was ordering drinks like it was his job, not to say the rest of us didn’t either. I really don’t remember much other than shot after titty after shot. At one point in the night DSC002 convinced a girl he owned the club by telling her she should get out and then waving his hand at Smiley’s brother behind the bar. Convincing enough right?
After a heavily discounted $300ish tab we leave to head back to my place. I do not have any clue how we got home that night, and am going to tell this story how I remember it…….blurry.
Since for some awful reason we didn’t finish all the booze that had been brought over we keep drinking, I think. I remember going into my room and taking a phone call from my old man, who also happened to be wasted at the time. He was going on about how my sisters friends drank his whiskey and filled it back up with water. Hmmm, what high school kid would do that? Anyways it didn’t matter. Next thing I remember is laying out in the hallway, still on the phone. Later on I will find out why I am out there, and why it was too loud to talk in the apartment. My building manager who happened to live 3 doors down the hall came out to yell at me in her moo moo. I will never forget that sight. It was enough to scare a person sober, almost. I hang up the phone, go back inside, and………..time passes…….Someone starts knocking on the door. I go answer it, its the cops. With no hesitation whatsoever, they drag my out of my place, shirtless, and throw me to the ground and slap on the cuffs. One cop holds me down while the others go into my place. The building manager’s father, yep, they live together, was beating me with his cane while I was on the floor. Thats right, the cops allowed this. After pulling the woman from puking in the sink, and Ari from the toilet, they proceed to take us into somewhere. The cop at this time is taking my head and beating it against the elevator wall. The woman is screaming. Turn out white kids that grew up in the burbs never dealt with police brutality, well Officer Montoya was about to teach the “White boys” a lesson as he kept saying. (lesson learned, we are all professionals now, he is still a cop). We get out front of the building and as we are thrown into the cop car. My head is slammed a few more times into the nice officers fist, and the side of the car just for good measure. He lets the woman go, and takes Ari and I god knows where at this point.
First stop, detox. I am thinking detox won’t be so bad, I’ve done that before. But no, only Ari is lucky enough to get to do to detox. They throw his ass out and I ask “where am I going?” The officer tells me that I am going to jail at this point. Now is where I start freaking out a little. I only have pants on, nice designer jeans at that. No shirt, no shoes. I have no idea what crime I have committed other than being drunk, and possibly a little loud. The cop pulls away, and drives the shortest 3 blocks of my life into the basement of the police station. This is where he decided to stop, before dropping me off, in a dark corner of the garage, and beat my face a few more times. Lovely. Good thing I was small hockey player growing up used to taking a beating, otherwise that might have really sucked. I finally get dropped off at jail.
I sit in a holding cell, the only white boy in there that hadn’t decided to make the street my permanent residence. Tons of gang members, literally, and not too much english went on there. What seemed like the longest hour of my life only got worse when I finally got a hold of my mom, thats right my parents. Turned out you couldn’t call a cell phone from jail, only landlines. Also turned out that the only land line number I knew was my parents. They were proud to get that phone call. I was pretty much ready to break down at that point, but couldn’t since all the coloreds in there acted like it was a party. They actually knew people in there. After finally being processed I get brought upstairs to my cell.
Inside the cell was some dirty bum on the floor, and a pull start indian on the bottom cot. I climbed into the top cot and try my best to fall asleep. I have no idea why I have been arrested, still, no one would tell me. I couldn’t call anyone either at this point. I was doing my best not to talk to my new friends by keeping pretending to sleep while my skin stuck to the metal cot. They had pads, but not for the white boy. I wasn’t given any food, the spics in the cell block would take it. I wasn’t allowed near the phone either. Basically I stayed in my cell the entire time. However, I was elated to discover that inside my 5th pocket of my jeans I had an adderall. That helped keep my mood in a little better spirits. After about 6/7 hours of ignoring the indian he started talking to me. He told me his entire life story. It included a lot of beer, peyote, bologna, and wondering from place to place. Honestly it was the worst corner job ever. The only free, safe, pass out of my cell was when the priest came to give a sermon. Typical Christian bottom feeder trying to help the lost souls by luring them into his church. It was gods way of pimping. I make friends with the one spanish speaking accent that sounded south american. He was about as white as they got in there. I really don’t remember what he told me but I do remember he didn’t look at me like he wanted to kill me.
13 hours later, 6:30 pm the next day my name is called. I get to go home. After what seemed like a century they process me. The woman had paid my bail, it literally just took that long for them to “put the paper work through”. They bring me quiznos, best sandwich of my life. Don’t even remember what kind. Ari is telling me about his experience in Detox. “Some fat bitch stole his eggs”. Being the little skinny white boy he is, he gave them to her without a fight. Apparently while the woman, MJ, and DSC002 went to get Ari from detox, Smiley was on a balcony of a condo nearby cheering them on…..still drinking. God forbid jail and detox stop any DSC member from continuing the bender.
I start asking questions as to why I have the following charges against me:
- Trespassing??? I was at my own apartment
- Throwing missiles?
- Disturbing the peace
- Destruction of private property
DSC002 and MJ fess up and tell me they had been throwing beer bottles out of the 5th story window of my kitchen. They must have done this while I was on the phone. This is how blacked out we were. Apparently once they ran out of beer bottles they stormed the fridge and threw jelly jars, knives, who knows? Sounds fun for them right? At least by then I was clear on why I had gotten arrested, however I was still blurry as to why only 3 of us were around when the cops came. Well, they had left to get pizza. Gotta have pizza with a good one tied on.
About 2 months later, sweating balls the entire time, I pulled the white boy move and had DSC002 consult a lawyer. He wanted to be one after all, and is good with this sort of shit. We got notarized letters from everyone that was there, including the building manager that had evicted me that week. The pre-trial lawyer dropped the charges pretty quick when he saw a suit, legal backing, white skin, and shoes without concrete on them.
DSC002 and I celebrate with a ton whiskey shots at the bar across the street from the courthouse, we learned nothing, except mexican cops lose in the end. Thanks Uncle Tony!
The end of the 2007 baseball season will go down in infamy. The rockies has started a winning streak against the beaten up LA Tapouts, the Arizona Douche Bags, and then kept the magic alive to get a shot at the wild card against the San Diego Dude-Bros. Naturally we had to attend this once in a lifetime event. Immediately following the Arizona beat down I raced to the ticket office in a drunken stooper along with Meat. I get us 4 tickets in the club box seats behind home plate somehow, no problem. The rest of the metro area hasn’t seen the team worthy enough to drive down and buy up all of the tickets yet. Worked great for me.
This night started out to be pretty innocent, my boss had offered tickets to the Avalanche-Red Wings playoff game 3 in the Pepsi center. As we all know Red Wings fans are douche masters. Touting their passion for a team that has imported players from anywhere but North America for as long as I can remember. I guess they have to root for something since their city is such a piece of shit. Why else would they all be here?
