One of the times I was arrested . . .

My friends and I went swimming in a public pool about 20 minutes from our house. My friends were all kinds of wild, but fun. The pool was crowded and it was really hot, and we had a good time.

But the chlorine in the pool was ridiculous. My eyes immediately went red, but we kept swimming. It was one of those situations where your eyes hurt, but swimming in a crowded pool makes you feel better. We were some of the older kids in the pool.

We drove out from the pool in my friend’s station wagon, we drove it down to a nearby drive in restaurant. The floor of the back seat (and front seat) was covered in hamburger wrappers, soda and beer cans.

Customers drove into the drive-in and order from a squawk box while a waitress on roller skates rolls up with a tray of bad food.

When we drove into the spot, I saw some friends and got out of the car. Climbing out, my foot must have dragged a can out with it. The car was full of cans and trash.

I didn’t notice a cop car nearly in front of us. When I closed the car door, he walked up.

“Pick it up!”

“Pick what up?” I really didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Pick it up, or I’ll arrest you!”

“Arrest me for what?”

He was quick and before I knew it, he had me turned around and handcuffs on my wrists.

“What’d I do?” He brought me over to the police car.

I was being pushed into a police car, and my friends were still getting out of the car. They looked over at me with a shocked look. Their mouths seemed to say, “What did he do? We just got here.”

The cop drove me down to the station. “I know you boys were smoking pot.”

I laughed. We were just doing some good old fashion swimmin’ at the water hole.

“I can tell by your eyes.” I looked in his rear view mirror and saw that my eyes were completely bloodshot from the pool’s chlorine. I really laughed then.

“It’s not funny! You’re getting arrested!”

“We weren’t smoking pot!. We just came from the public pool and it’s the chlorine.”

“I don’t believe you. I know pot eyes when I see ‘em.”

He was probably right, he probably knew pot eyes when he saw them, but he didn’t know chlorine eyes. On the 5 minute ride from the drive-in restaurant to the station, he swore at me the entire time. Anyway, he brought me into the station and took my handcuffs off.

“If I ask you to show me your license, you show me your fucking license. If you don’t, you get arrested. I don’t have to tell you why. I ask you a question, you give me an fucking answer. If you don’t, you get arrested.”

He continued to swear at me, and believe it or not, I stayed respectful the whole time.

“I want you to call your parents now . . .and call them . . . collect.”

“No, you wanted to arrest me, you can call my parents . . . collect.”

“If I tell you to call your fucking parents collect, you call your fucking parents collect. No questions asked.”

I really don’t know how much a call would cost to my parents house, but he was obviously concerned about the money.

He leaned forward, and we had a staring contest. He realized I wasn’t kidding. There was no way I would call my parents collect. He arrested me for no reason and he knew it. He would have to work his way out of it.

He called my parents, “Hi, I have your son down here at the police station, and I need you to pick him up.”

I was livid. I wanted my parents to understand the situation, but I wasn’t sure they would. I waited an uncomfortable 30 minutes until my parents eventually came into the station.

“Oh, Hello. It is so nice to meet you.” He said when my parents walked through the door. I couldn’t believe the bullshit show this guy was putting on. He became the local friendly cop you could meet on the corner. “I want you both to know that your son has been extremely rude and disrespectful to me.” My blood pressure started to rise.

“. . . and Sir . . ., I want you to know that I am a gentleman, so I won’t repeat the words your son has said to me in front of your missus.”

I went ballistic! “You son of a bitch, you fuckin’ moron, you fat piece of shit! You have been swearing at me for over an hour, and I sat her and took it. You arrested me for no reason, and ordered me to call my parents. . . . collect, and then you accuse me of swearing? You piece of shit!”

“Hey! Be quiet!” said my father.

“He’s a liar!”

“See what I mean?” the cop smiled. “Your son is out of control!”

I stood up and continued to yell at the cop.

My father turned and yelled at me, “Shut up! I’m not kidding.” I shrunk down and stayed quiet.

“Thank you for your help, officer,” my father continued, and shook that piece of shit’s hand.

I walked with shame back to my parent’s car.

“Don’t worry,” said my mother, “We saw how what that cop was like right when we walked in the door. He was the kind of guy who likes to pat his gun.”

I thought I would get my ass kicked at home, but they saw through the bullshit . . . of one of my arrests.