Drive-er/or Put Your Hands Out The Window
1995, I guess. Somehow me Duane and Laurie were in my 1992 Ford Escort driving back into town on 21 from J'ville. I was flying, Duane was in the backseat.
Coming up I saw a state trooper in the median clocking folks and, as I glanced in my rearview I knew he definitely could've clocked me and could be coming, but I didn't see him move.
I was half a second from hitting the Weaver escape so I knew I could jump then or stay on 21 with nowhere left to go.
Unfortunately for us, state trooper was hot on my ass like a whore in church and he jumped with me.
His lights went on, and I started to slow to a stop on a broken, half assed country excuse for a road.
Duane started flipping about the ounce in his pocket. "Shove it down your pants and shit the fuck up"
.... being blinded in all mirrors, I lit a cigarette....
DRIVE-er put your hands out the window!
....DRIVE-or put your hands out the window!
Laurie was in the front seat,and in true Laurie fashion she's smoking a clove, twirling her hair, brushing the world off, and demanding...
DRIVE!!!! .... DRIIVE!!!!!!!!!
What?!!!!
.... She says, ..... "He's saying drive OR put your hands out the window, SO DRIVE!!!!!!!"
Jesus Christ she was fucking serious and with Duane's Mormon-ass ounce in his pants and me knowing I'm going to jail, I put my hands out the window.
"DRIVER....PUT YOUR HANDS OUT THE WINDOW!!!!!!!"
I blocked his lights in my mirror with a couple fingers, enough to see his gun drawn. Goddamn this pussy assed, little dicked, massive complexed cop is drawing down on me cuz I broke off on the Weaver escape at 55 MPH in a 45. But hey, Weaver has more cops per square mile than any other town in the USofA, so what did you expect.
Duane sat stiff as a board and Laurie stared straight ahead, twirling her hair, pissed....
and I opened the driverside door.
Driver put your hands in the air, driver walk backwards towards me, slammed on his car or mine, and cuffed. All after asking if my chain wallet was a weapon. Um, it's a chain.....for my wallet.
I don't know what he said to Laurie and Duane but I chilled in the backseat of the squad car for a while. It's late at night, it's Weaver, and this guy's typical ultra-need to be in control and obeyed is palpable. Little did I know how many little dicked, psychotic fuckwads I would meet all day long for the rest of my life who were just like him. Luckily, not all of them had guns, but unfortunately, they were everywhere and always capable of doing harm.
A few weeks later Laurie was arrested in Gadsden for shoplifting and 2 weeks after that I was shipping off to boot camp. She called me from jail to bail her out but I had gotten fired from Burger King and didn't have any money. I went to her hearing hoping we would be driving home but unfortunately she got jail time. The courthouse was large, and we were small. They directed Laurie to sit in a specific row. I snuck over behind her, still thinking we had a chance, but then I heard the bailif yell, "Step away from the prisoner!" I turned and yelled, "WHAT PRISONER! This is my best friend and I'm leaving for boot camp!!!"
That was it. They took her away, I drove home alone, and a week later I left for bootcap.
Years later we reconnected, and this moment came up. Of course I remember that day! It wasn't a funny memory, it wasn't a young wild time. It was a painful moment. A painful memory. They made her cut her hemp necklace off. She called me from jail and was very upset about that. But worst of all, I left for bootcamp and there was no goodbye.