Wednesday, September 27, 2006

It Happened One Night

It’s 11:00 on the 4th of July. We’ve spent the last three hours looking for a girl that doesn’t even like him anyway and I’m hungry. Hours of drinking and additional time on an endless quest will do that some times. I don’t understand why he continues to stalk her because to me it is quite obvious that she wants no part of him.

So we head to Rockway for an Italian beef and some Fritos. It the kind of place that sells crappy pre-made sandwiches for way to much money but in the middle of nowhere it’s all we had back then. We shot the shit with the burnt out, 20-something, loser who ran the place, all the time realizing that he is the type of person we don’t want to be like when we grow up.

My buddy and I hit the road back to Hinckley in his 1977 Camaro by doing a donut in the parking lot before we headed west. This is about the same instant that a State of Illinois squad car decided to drive by. He didn’t see it but I made sure he understood the urgency of the situation as we drove back to our home town.

Within seconds we were flying westbound at a speed that certainly was greater the speed limit. Like 2 ½ times the limit to be exact. As we traversed the empty highway at idiotic speed we encounter a problem. He needs to take a leak and starts to head down a gravel road in search of a place to eliminate his bodily fluids.

Now it can be said that teenagers think they’re smart and can make good decisions but this was not one of those times. What the heck are you doing you idiot. We’re getting away and you stop to take a leak two minutes after we left a gas station. He informs me of a party down the road and that he really wants to head there when he is finished. &^&%)%!. Within 30 seconds the squad car was heading down the gravel road looking for the culprits. Us.

“Boys, I don’t know how fast you were going but I was doing 80 and had no chance of getting you. If it wasn’t for the dust from the gravel road I wouldn’t have found you. License and registration please.” was the first thing out of his mouth. Sitting in the passenger, I start to grab the wallet out of the back pocket of my pants in anticipation of identity confirmation when he screams” HANDS ON THE DASH NOW SON!!!”. “I’m going to jail” crosses my mind as the stupidity of my friend prepares to kick me in the nuts.

He gets us out of the car one at a time and does a search of the vehicle. This highly trained public servant finds a freshly opened case of beer with 22 cans left inside. He informs us of the legal drinking age and that we don’t meet the criteria of legal drinkers. Now at this point things lighten up a little as he asks us to dump the beer and throw the cans in the trunk. Of coarse my buddy doesn’t want to because he paid good money for it but in the end we open each can and spill the contents on the ground.

Now the time of reckoning appeared as he asked my buddy to do a field sobriety test. He did pretty well until he had to stand on one foot with his leg extended and arms sticking out to the side while counting to 30. When he got to 17 he lost his place and asked if he could start over.

“We’re going to jail” kept running through my head at a speed not unlike the drive that caused this problem in the first place. I was convinced my future was over as he brought us together and prepared to give us the bad news.

“It’s late and my shift is over in 10 minutes. I don’t want to deal with this and get home at God knows when. Don’t let him drive. You drive him home and keep his keys until tomorrow or until he is sober. And don’t let me find out that you’ve ignored my request or I’ll come get you. Have a good night.”

So I jumped into the driver’s seat and drove to my house and let my buddy drive home from there seeing that he only lived 4 blocks away. Within 2 minutes another group of my friends drove by and I continued my night like nothing had ever happened.

To be continued…

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