It's Been a Long Day, Always, Ain't That Right...
WOW. My day began like 20 hours ago and still hasn't
ended. Work went fine, although I did manage to destroy a
perfectly good pair of jeans, a hoodie, and a Beatle's T-
Shirt while cutting and cleaning damaged screens. Next time
Bill tells me he has a job I can do, I will be forced to
punch him in the nose. I ended up covered in paint, dirt,
cleaning chemicals and ink, which have stained my hands
some rather hideous colors, and also managed to accidently
get my long leather jacket into a bunch of white ink on my
way out for a smoke break.
Which got it all over my pants.
And tracked it on the carpet outside the door.
Luckily, I managed to get it out with a solvent, and went
merrily home, looking forward to a clean me, clean clothes,
and a night out with Robin, Steph, Brian, Picard, and Bob.
I left home and stopped at Dumont's for smokes, after which
I hit the wrong button on my dashboard, so my headlights
weren't on. Of course, being the smrt won eye ahm, I didn't
I had just started out on Rt. 16 when I got pulled over by
a Statey, not having the least idea why. He pointed out
that my lights weren't on (whoops, my bad) and then went
back to his crusier to do a usual check on me.
This is where things went horribly horribly wrong.
Ok, to backtrack a little, last August myself, Ozzy, Andy,
and Jon Walsh went to Portsmouth, and Andy and Ozzy took it
upon themselves to steal some artwork from the building
across from the parking garage. They came up to me, asking
for the keys to my van, and I have them to them, thinking
they wanted to stash their hoodies or something.
So Walsh and I sat and waited for them to return...
And waited, and waited.
Finally a cop on a bicycle showed up, and asked if we had
been with two guys, one in a black and one in an orange
hoodie. We said yes, and he informed us that someone had
seen them taking paintings. Walsh and I went to my van with
him, where like 5 cops were, and after spotting the
paintings in my van, they broke it open and took them out
along with some street signs that had been left in there.
After filling out a statement and all that other legal
crap, the cop told me and Walsh we could leave, and told me
that I'd get a call from them, and I'd have to go in to the
Portsmouth Police Station, pay 20 bucks, and everything
would be set.
Well, the PPD never called, and I figured I'd been lost
somewhere in the paperwork. Andy and Ozzy were supposed to
get arrested and that never happened either.
So tonight the State Officer comes back to my window and
asks if I'd ever been arrested. I said no, and he asked
again, like he thought I was lying. He told me that the PPD
had what's called an Electric Bench Warrent out for me,
meaning I had skipped a court date. I informed him I had
never recieved a summons, and I was promptly arrested.
Because my lights weren't on.
But it gets better. So we're sitting there, the cop trying
to find someone to tow my van and me being forced to lean
back in extreme discomfort with tighter- than- required
handcuffs tying my hands behind my back, which he was nice
enough to replace with a more comfortable pair when I
admitted to being in pain.
Another cop showed up and offered to watch the van until
the towing people came so he could drive me to the Dover
Toll Booth, where we were to meet a Portsmouth officer who
would take me the rest of the way.
Because my LIGHTS WEREN'T ON.
So I get to the Portsmouth Police Station, and the officer
there, while seemingly mildly retarded, was also quite
pleasant, letting me use the phone as much as I wanted and
not making me be cuffed the whole time.
I called Daddy and gave him the heads-up, and he left to
come bail me out. In the meantime, Officer ____________
talked several times to the Bail guy and the Lutenant, and
told my father bail would be $30. After talking to BG (bail
guy), that number changed to $300. So Daddy had to scamper
about a city he doesn't know, and try to come up with 300
cash at 9 pm.
You know why?
My lights weren't on.
So then the cop asks me something about the night I was
arrested. Confosed, I said, "What, you mean tonight?"
He said "No, the night the artwork was taken."
I informed him I WASN'T arrested then, and repeated (for
the umpteenth time) what the bike cop had said that night.
He called the Lt. (After taking some really scary looking
mug shots of me- I wanted to ask if I could keep one and
thought it might not be a grand idea) and told her what I
had said, and she looked it up in the system and saw *gasp*
that I WAS TELIING THE TRUTH THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME.
Wow, an honest 18-year-old? Whooda thunk it?
This is what I don't get: What it said on the complaint
(aka warrent, I guess) was that the incident happened Aug.
13, that I was arrested Sept. 21, and my court date was
supposed to be Oct. 22.
I was never arrested, thus I never had a court date, thus I
didn't MISS a court date, thus the warrent wasn't valid.
I have to go to court in January, and I don't plan on
pleading guilty since, start to finish, none of this was my
fault (well, except the fucking lights)- I didn't take the
paintings, I didn't put them in the van, I didn't know they
were there, I didn't get arrested, I didn't have court.
Blame it on Ozzy, Andy and the PPD's fucking up. No guilty
for me, whoa no. Daddy plans on getting a lawyer... can we
say, "Sued for wrongful arrest"? I can!
So Daddy came and picked me up after I got to spend a few
thrilling minutes locked in a dirty cell (glad I didn't
have to spend the night there... gross) and we left. I was
only mildly bitched at on the way home, and when I went in
to see Momma, she was severely fucking pissed because I
hadn't told her about it at the start of the incident. I
told her I would have, but I was misinformed by the cop
that night and it was the PPD's fuck up, not mine. Not to
lay the blame elsewhere, but it was.
Well the looks Momma was giving me and the tone in her
voice just did it. I was emotionally and physically
drained, and my defenses were shut down, if not off
completely. I started to cry halfway down the stairs and by
the time I reached the den, I was full-out sobbing. I
wasn't upset and being arrested or any of that- it was my
mother's angry, disappointed, My-Daughter's-A-Loser voice.
She came in to say goodnight, and I cried on her a bit.
Then she sat and I (AGAIN) told everything, start to
Soon after she went to bed, the rest of the degenerate's
gang came over, and then some: Kat, Steph, Robin, Jake,
Mike, Jon, Picard, Brian, and Bob.
I had called Kat's cell from jail (didn't have 'Bin's on me
and Picard's wasn't working) and asked her to call Bin and
tell her what was going on, since I was supposed to be with
them two hours prior.
So everyone knew I'd been arrested, and I told the tale
AGAIN, we hung out all squeezed on my porch for a bit, and
then hopped into a bunch of cars and went to Bickford's,
metting up with two of 'Bin's other friends there who
joined us, giving us a table of twelve, count 'em twelve,
rambunxious young adults. I spent most of my time cracking
wise ass remarks, laughing at other people's wise ass
remarks, drinking 12 creamers all in a row with a straw,
molesting and being molested by Picard, etc etc. The usual.
After awhile I saw a familiar face pop in and recognized
him as Tony, a totally kick ass guy, wonderful guitar
player and singer from Market Square. And after him walked
in none other than Jon Butland (see first post).
At this point, I kinda went blank for a second, and most
everyone at the table looked at me, while Picard squeezed
my knee reassuringly.
I decided it was time to power-smoke a cigarette. After
doing so and getting up from Kat's chair which I had
stolen, I went over and gave him a hug, which I'd been
wanting to do and wasn't sure if I should. My back was to
the table but I'm sure we got some interesting looks.
He squeezed me back to tight I almost spilled my coffee all
over him, and eventually I puleld up a chair to his end of
the table and we chatted like old friends. And it was good,
I'm glad I saw him. The fear is gone... I doubt we'll ever
be the same as we were, even as friends go, but at least I
can be around him again without trembling. While there's
others there, at least.
We left around one or so, everyone going seperate ways and
me riding home with Mike, Kat, and Jon, practically falling
asleep on Jon as I did so. (He's incredibly comfy).
And here I sit, one of the longest goddamn days of my
life. up at 5:30 am, work at 7, 8 1/2 hrs at work, hr or so
getting ready, 5 hours of being arrested/incapacitated, 2
1/2 hours out with friends.
Tomorrow will be up at 7 and out of here by 9 to go clothes
shopping with Momma, and maybe Allison and Aunt Sandi. Then
over comes Norty, Bob, Mike, Kat, Jake, Jon, Brian, Chris,
Steph, Bin, and god alone knows who else.
It was so great getting to see Bob again, finally. It's
been SO long. He still looks the same... all black clothes,
black duster, black scarf, black shoes, finger armor rings,
spiky black hair. Of course, minus the hair, I haven't
Seeing Picard and Bin was great too, I don't get to see
them much, and of course, seeing Jon B was interesting. I
had been Brian only once, at Norty's party, and though he
doesn't say much he's still a groovy fella. Maybe he
doesn't say anything because he's afraid of us, I don't
know. But I told him of he's shy around us, we'll merrily
rip him into shreds. :) And of course, seeing the usuals..
Kat, Jake, Jon, Mike, Steph- is always a plus.
Can't wait till tomorrow... it is tomorrow. Ah only for
hours left to sleep... fuck.
~Today is the 21st anniversay of the day when John Winston
Ono Lennon was shot and killed outside the Dakota
Apartments where he lived with his wife, Yoko, and their
son Sean, by a man named Mark David Chapman. John was 40
years, one month and 30 days at the time of his death,
leaving behind a wife, and ex-wife, an auntie, two half-
sisters, two sons, and a legion of adoring fans. He taught
the world to imagine all the people living life in peace,
and that is what we need right now. He was- and is- an
insiration to millions, and he will still shine on.~
*Moment of Silence*
John, wherever you are, I hope you and George Harrison are
rocking out together. We still Imagine, and the sun will
Music: Imagaine, by John Lennon