"Is Anyone In There With You?"
I hadn’t been on vacation since Eric and I went to Cyberfest in 2001. When I suggested to Frances that we take a cruise to the Bahamas, she was all for it. January is the off season for most cruise lines and we were able to get a great deal, gamble, drink, and have a lot of fun.
The cruise was scheduled to leave Port Canaveral on January 2. I chose Port Canaveral over Miami because
Because I am allocated a free vehicle from work I am also the only person allowed to drive and I wanted the shortest trip possible.
We partied all night on New Year’s Eve, watching the Peach Drop downtown, wandering through the mass of humanity in Underground Atlanta, checking out The Mark, dropping in on Reds, an underground club, and eventually going over to someone’s apartment downtown. We came in around 11am the next day. Frances went to bed, I watched The Vols kill Texas A&M in the Cotton Bowl for two quarters before falling asleep myself.
When we woke up, around 8pm that evening, we gathered our luggage, wallets, and sanity and headed for Florida.
Part of writing a journal is being honest. Sometimes that honesty can put your ass in a sling, especially if you write something that may embarrass another person. I could leave out the drive down, but then you, the reader would be missing a funny story.
Frances and I were approximately 45 miles from Valdosta as we drove down I-75. The G6 I had selected for it’s XM radio system was cruising right along when we began “feeling frisky.” I pulled off at the next exit, it was our vacation for crying out loud, and took a left down an industrial park road. Apparently there’s a road, but no industrial park; the road was a deadend into a gravel turnaround.
Frances and I were “getting friskier” when I saw a vehicle coming up the road. As it got closer, the cop turned on his blue lights. Frances was frantic. I was caught.
As the officer walked up to the car, I rolled my window down and said, “Excuse mister officer. Could you give me one second. I don’t have any pants on.”
The cop, not missing a beat asked me, “Well is anyone in there with you?”
“Yessir,” I said and he went back to his squad car to wait until I was ready.
I put my pants on and hopped out of the G6 with my license in hand. I wasn’t able to locate my shirt so the pants were all I had on. The cop gave me a DUI exam, which I passed with flying colors and handed my license back to me.
“Ya’ll shouldn’t be out here. This here’s a dangerous place to be.”
I affirmed with another “yessir,” and he was gone.
That was the last time we got “frisky” in the car. My only concern is that he had to ask me if anyone was in the car with me? It reminded me of the time the cops tried to arrest me for indecent exposure, having mistaken me for a peeping tom.
I had been seen changing in my car at an apartment complex in Hermitage when I was 16. The female apartment manager called the police. I explained to the first cop what had happened and he admonished me but let me go. He wrote the manager’s name and phone number on a Post It so that I could call and apologize to her.
I was relaxing in the apartment hot tub when my friend, Mike, came running back in and told me someone was breaking into my truck. I hopped out of the hot tub to accost the guy. Unfortunately it was ANOTHER police officer!
He had his gun pulled and had my wallet and the Post It in his hand.
“Why do you have this woman’s name and number in your wallet, boy?!”
The cop thought I was a pervert! I explained to him that an officer had already been up there. It was a mess. After about twenty minutes of radio talk the cop pulled me aside and told me that it was just a big mistake but I shouldn’t be changing in my car. The reason the police overreacted was that the week before a woman had caught a pervert looking in her window. He was completely naked except for the Vaseline he was using to jerk off.
The cruise was great. We drank, ate, gambled, and drank some more, but that is another story.
The cruise was scheduled to leave Port Canaveral on January 2. I chose Port Canaveral over Miami because
Because I am allocated a free vehicle from work I am also the only person allowed to drive and I wanted the shortest trip possible.
We partied all night on New Year’s Eve, watching the Peach Drop downtown, wandering through the mass of humanity in Underground Atlanta, checking out The Mark, dropping in on Reds, an underground club, and eventually going over to someone’s apartment downtown. We came in around 11am the next day. Frances went to bed, I watched The Vols kill Texas A&M in the Cotton Bowl for two quarters before falling asleep myself.
When we woke up, around 8pm that evening, we gathered our luggage, wallets, and sanity and headed for Florida.
Part of writing a journal is being honest. Sometimes that honesty can put your ass in a sling, especially if you write something that may embarrass another person. I could leave out the drive down, but then you, the reader would be missing a funny story.
Frances and I were approximately 45 miles from Valdosta as we drove down I-75. The G6 I had selected for it’s XM radio system was cruising right along when we began “feeling frisky.” I pulled off at the next exit, it was our vacation for crying out loud, and took a left down an industrial park road. Apparently there’s a road, but no industrial park; the road was a deadend into a gravel turnaround.
Frances and I were “getting friskier” when I saw a vehicle coming up the road. As it got closer, the cop turned on his blue lights. Frances was frantic. I was caught.
As the officer walked up to the car, I rolled my window down and said, “Excuse mister officer. Could you give me one second. I don’t have any pants on.”
The cop, not missing a beat asked me, “Well is anyone in there with you?”
“Yessir,” I said and he went back to his squad car to wait until I was ready.
I put my pants on and hopped out of the G6 with my license in hand. I wasn’t able to locate my shirt so the pants were all I had on. The cop gave me a DUI exam, which I passed with flying colors and handed my license back to me.
“Ya’ll shouldn’t be out here. This here’s a dangerous place to be.”
I affirmed with another “yessir,” and he was gone.
That was the last time we got “frisky” in the car. My only concern is that he had to ask me if anyone was in the car with me? It reminded me of the time the cops tried to arrest me for indecent exposure, having mistaken me for a peeping tom.
I had been seen changing in my car at an apartment complex in Hermitage when I was 16. The female apartment manager called the police. I explained to the first cop what had happened and he admonished me but let me go. He wrote the manager’s name and phone number on a Post It so that I could call and apologize to her.
I was relaxing in the apartment hot tub when my friend, Mike, came running back in and told me someone was breaking into my truck. I hopped out of the hot tub to accost the guy. Unfortunately it was ANOTHER police officer!
He had his gun pulled and had my wallet and the Post It in his hand.
“Why do you have this woman’s name and number in your wallet, boy?!”
The cop thought I was a pervert! I explained to him that an officer had already been up there. It was a mess. After about twenty minutes of radio talk the cop pulled me aside and told me that it was just a big mistake but I shouldn’t be changing in my car. The reason the police overreacted was that the week before a woman had caught a pervert looking in her window. He was completely naked except for the Vaseline he was using to jerk off.
The cruise was great. We drank, ate, gambled, and drank some more, but that is another story.