Catching up (amusing): In which The Mango is Arrested
1st week after The Mango's visit here (late Aug/early Sept)
No shit, there I was (all river guide's stories begin that way)...
3:23am, and my phone rings. Caller ID shows The Mango's number, and I fumble blearily to answer, as I'm realizing it's 4:23 where he is, and what the HELL has happened?
Me: 'lo?
Mango: (in a chipper tone) Do you have *any* idea how hard it is to twiddle your thumbs when your hands are handcuffed behind your back?
Me: *moving off war/weather/injury scenarios and onto horrendous insubordination or loss of temper w/fellow Airman scenarios, and STILL trying to figure out why it's going down at 4:23am* You WHAT?!
Mango: (still cheery) Yeah, I was arrested for underage drinking.Important background info: I subscribe to a somewhat European view on alcohol and raising children to handle it responsibly. So neither sprog is any kind of candidate for a binge of I'm-outta-the-house consumption...or DUI for that matter.
Now I'm wide awake. At least I think I am, although it seems like an alternate universe.
Me: ...you...*sounds of brain spinning in place, gears not even engaging enough to grind*...uh...uhHUH...
Mango: I was out walking, and this car full of MPs pulled up. They did a quick search, asked me about where I was going, what I was doing, then put the cuffs on me and had me just sit while they tracked down the last member of my group of drinking buddies.More important background info: The Mango is a dyed-in-the-wool INTROVERT. For those of you with a toe in fanfic, we're talking about as social as Weiss Kreuz' Aya. The more mainstream analogy would be Dr. House (only The Mango's a bit *less* social).
3:37am, and my brain is just not wrapping around what I'm hearing. I don't think I need to worry about bail, given that this is a miltary matter...
Me: You were out walking.
Mango: Well, I couldn't get to sleep, so I figured I might as well move around a bit and explore. Turned out, there were some guys drinking somewhere around here (I never saw them), and when the MPs moved in to pick them up, they split up and ran...so the MPs were driving around looking for them, and there I was. I mean, who the hell else is gonna be out at 4am?
All except 2 of the MPs were brand new out of training, so I think they were also sort of looking to practice, if you know what I mean. But it wasn't like I was going to argue. I didn't even point out the nearly-full bottle of Coke hanging out of my jacket pocket. It seemed pretty dumb to me that they didn't even check to see if it was just soda...but they didn't. But again, I'm not gonna tell a bunch of MPs how to do their job. So I sat and tried to twiddle my thumbs for about 1/2 an hour, and the guys who were drinking *were* all caught and were all totally wasted. I obviously wasn't, plus none of them had ever seen me before, so the MPs set me free.
This is all making sense to me now. Yes, The Mango has always been nocturnal and also does insomnia with flair. Now I'm trying to figure out if I'm feeling relieved he's okay or if I'm going to go strangle him for playing me like this. Let there be no doubt his deadpan, measured delivery was a deliberate choice.
He continues though, letting me know that he continued his walk and near one of the streetlights, saw what seemed to be a gecko. It was about four inches long, a very attractive little fellow with stripes. I'm fully awake now, and as he continues discussing the biological and botanical finds of his walkabout, it comes to me: he's pretty shaken up. This is his charming version of "clingy." After another half hour or so, he seems to have wound down, and my own adrenaline high is wearing off. We say goodnight, and I get back to sleep, hoping for a less eventful awakening later in the morning.
Telling me seems to have been an excellent rehearsal. Later in the week we're on the phone again and he says the expressions on his mentor and supervisor's faces were priceless.
No shit, there I was (all river guide's stories begin that way)...
3:23am, and my phone rings. Caller ID shows The Mango's number, and I fumble blearily to answer, as I'm realizing it's 4:23 where he is, and what the HELL has happened?
Me: 'lo?
Mango: (in a chipper tone) Do you have *any* idea how hard it is to twiddle your thumbs when your hands are handcuffed behind your back?
Me: *moving off war/weather/injury scenarios and onto horrendous insubordination or loss of temper w/fellow Airman scenarios, and STILL trying to figure out why it's going down at 4:23am* You WHAT?!
Mango: (still cheery) Yeah, I was arrested for underage drinking.Important background info: I subscribe to a somewhat European view on alcohol and raising children to handle it responsibly. So neither sprog is any kind of candidate for a binge of I'm-outta-the-house consumption...or DUI for that matter.
Now I'm wide awake. At least I think I am, although it seems like an alternate universe.
Me: ...you...*sounds of brain spinning in place, gears not even engaging enough to grind*...uh...uhHUH...
Mango: I was out walking, and this car full of MPs pulled up. They did a quick search, asked me about where I was going, what I was doing, then put the cuffs on me and had me just sit while they tracked down the last member of my group of drinking buddies.More important background info: The Mango is a dyed-in-the-wool INTROVERT. For those of you with a toe in fanfic, we're talking about as social as Weiss Kreuz' Aya. The more mainstream analogy would be Dr. House (only The Mango's a bit *less* social).
3:37am, and my brain is just not wrapping around what I'm hearing. I don't think I need to worry about bail, given that this is a miltary matter...
Me: You were out walking.
Mango: Well, I couldn't get to sleep, so I figured I might as well move around a bit and explore. Turned out, there were some guys drinking somewhere around here (I never saw them), and when the MPs moved in to pick them up, they split up and ran...so the MPs were driving around looking for them, and there I was. I mean, who the hell else is gonna be out at 4am?
All except 2 of the MPs were brand new out of training, so I think they were also sort of looking to practice, if you know what I mean. But it wasn't like I was going to argue. I didn't even point out the nearly-full bottle of Coke hanging out of my jacket pocket. It seemed pretty dumb to me that they didn't even check to see if it was just soda...but they didn't. But again, I'm not gonna tell a bunch of MPs how to do their job. So I sat and tried to twiddle my thumbs for about 1/2 an hour, and the guys who were drinking *were* all caught and were all totally wasted. I obviously wasn't, plus none of them had ever seen me before, so the MPs set me free.
This is all making sense to me now. Yes, The Mango has always been nocturnal and also does insomnia with flair. Now I'm trying to figure out if I'm feeling relieved he's okay or if I'm going to go strangle him for playing me like this. Let there be no doubt his deadpan, measured delivery was a deliberate choice.
He continues though, letting me know that he continued his walk and near one of the streetlights, saw what seemed to be a gecko. It was about four inches long, a very attractive little fellow with stripes. I'm fully awake now, and as he continues discussing the biological and botanical finds of his walkabout, it comes to me: he's pretty shaken up. This is his charming version of "clingy." After another half hour or so, he seems to have wound down, and my own adrenaline high is wearing off. We say goodnight, and I get back to sleep, hoping for a less eventful awakening later in the morning.
Telling me seems to have been an excellent rehearsal. Later in the week we're on the phone again and he says the expressions on his mentor and supervisor's faces were priceless.