Last night, I realized that I was running low on hair product and deodorant, so I made a trip to my local Walgreens. Because the Walgreens is just down the street from where I live, I walked.
After getting all my beauty supplies, I ran into my friend Manny.
MANNY: Hey dude! What's up?
ME: Oh nothing. I needed stuff for my hair...so...yeah.
MANNY: Oh, that's cool. So, hey, I saw your blog online.
ME: Shut up. For reals.
MANNY: Yeah, man. Who's Melissa, and how come I dont know who she is?
ME: I cant tell you.
MANNY: Why? Why you gotta be like that?
ME: Just. Cuz.
MANNY: Well, I wanna know where she took you to. Does that place really exist?
ME: Yeah. It's all the way east on Speedway.
Confused with my simple directions, I ended up in the passenger seat of my friends truck and we drove in silence to the infamous parking lot spot. What is it with guys and the awkward silence between them when they drive? I know for me, I love to talk and converse, but when your in a car with another guy, you just dont say much. Still trying to figure that one out...
After 15 minutes of silence, we arrived. The moment we turned into the parking lot, a car that was parked in the back corner turned it's lights on, like they knew they had been caught. You know a little backseat action was going on. I laughed as Manny pulled in, and took a moment to look around the deserted area. Not five seconds after we pulled in, two other cars pull in, blaring red and blue search lights. They were cops.
COPS: Please step out of the vehicle with your hands behind your head.
We were blocked in. Trapped. No way out. I had no idea why the cops chose to raid the deserted parking lot. So I got out of the car with my hands behind my head. If it werent for the fact that I was paralyzed with fear, I would have pissed and shitted all over myself. In my mind, it was Schindler's List all over again. There I was, with a gun pointed at me, hoping and praying to God this cop was not trigger happy.
He wasnt. The cop came over and had me put my hands on the hood of Manny's truck, while he patted me down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Manny and the sexual couple from the other car were recieving the same treatment.
COP: What are you doing all the way out here?
ME: I just came with my friend to show him that this place really existed.
COP: How old are you?
ME: I'm 20.
COP: I'm not going to ask you again. How old are you?
ME: 20. I'm 20.
COP: Lemme see your ID.
And that my friends, was a problem. I didnt have my ID or my wallet. I just thought a trip to Walgreens with 20 bucks in hand, was all I needed, you know? It also didnt help my case, that I look much younger than I really am and that my friend Manny looks much older than he really is. As the cop kept interrogating me, I kept trying to grow facial hair and hope that God would give me instant deep-set wrinkles.
COP: So you just came up here...just because, or...
ME: Well, I wrote this story in my blog and my friend...
COP: What's a blog?
ME: It's short for weblog.
COP: Then why don’t you just call it weblog?
I explained that 'blog' is hipper and cooler. I was losing him with the hip, cool angle, so I backed off and agreed that they should call it ‘weblog’ and that I’d do my best to change the entire system. But in the meantime, I'd spend my time worrying about the outcome of my situation. I could imagine myself in jail, making that horrific phone call home, telling my folks that I had been arrested.
But that never happened. The cops told Manny and me to get back into the truck and to wait. Manny started to freak out. He overheard one of the cop's talking about "indecent exposure" and imagined his photo being placed all over the internet above the caption: SEXUAL OFFENDER. We didn't even do anything, and we were in the parking lot for not even a second. Sexual offender was not a title I was willing to put on my resume. I tried to clear my mind by turning on the radio. Beyonce's "Check On It" was on, and through the lyrics I was able to find serenity.
Watch it, while he check up on it...dip it, pop it, twerk it, stop it...check on me tonight!
In the end, the cops sent us along our merry way. As it turns out, the car hiding in the corner was occupied by a guy and an underage kid. They were smokin' weed and getting each other off. The guy knew he was busted beyond belief and to save himself from further emabarassment, he told the cops we had pulled into the parking lot not a second before they did. Thank God there are some sexual offenders out there, who still have some morals. As we pulled out the parking lot, I realized two things. One was to never ever forget my wallet ever again. If I have to, I will convert my ID into fashionable neckwear. That sucker will never leave me. And two...my days of backseat banging are totally destroyed. Never again, will I be turned on by the prospect of a quickie in a small crowded area. Damn.
After getting all my beauty supplies, I ran into my friend Manny.
MANNY: Hey dude! What's up?
ME: Oh nothing. I needed stuff for my hair...so...yeah.
MANNY: Oh, that's cool. So, hey, I saw your blog online.
ME: Shut up. For reals.
MANNY: Yeah, man. Who's Melissa, and how come I dont know who she is?
ME: I cant tell you.
MANNY: Why? Why you gotta be like that?
ME: Just. Cuz.
MANNY: Well, I wanna know where she took you to. Does that place really exist?
ME: Yeah. It's all the way east on Speedway.
Confused with my simple directions, I ended up in the passenger seat of my friends truck and we drove in silence to the infamous parking lot spot. What is it with guys and the awkward silence between them when they drive? I know for me, I love to talk and converse, but when your in a car with another guy, you just dont say much. Still trying to figure that one out...
After 15 minutes of silence, we arrived. The moment we turned into the parking lot, a car that was parked in the back corner turned it's lights on, like they knew they had been caught. You know a little backseat action was going on. I laughed as Manny pulled in, and took a moment to look around the deserted area. Not five seconds after we pulled in, two other cars pull in, blaring red and blue search lights. They were cops.
COPS: Please step out of the vehicle with your hands behind your head.
We were blocked in. Trapped. No way out. I had no idea why the cops chose to raid the deserted parking lot. So I got out of the car with my hands behind my head. If it werent for the fact that I was paralyzed with fear, I would have pissed and shitted all over myself. In my mind, it was Schindler's List all over again. There I was, with a gun pointed at me, hoping and praying to God this cop was not trigger happy.
He wasnt. The cop came over and had me put my hands on the hood of Manny's truck, while he patted me down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Manny and the sexual couple from the other car were recieving the same treatment.
COP: What are you doing all the way out here?
ME: I just came with my friend to show him that this place really existed.
COP: How old are you?
ME: I'm 20.
COP: I'm not going to ask you again. How old are you?
ME: 20. I'm 20.
COP: Lemme see your ID.
And that my friends, was a problem. I didnt have my ID or my wallet. I just thought a trip to Walgreens with 20 bucks in hand, was all I needed, you know? It also didnt help my case, that I look much younger than I really am and that my friend Manny looks much older than he really is. As the cop kept interrogating me, I kept trying to grow facial hair and hope that God would give me instant deep-set wrinkles.
COP: So you just came up here...just because, or...
ME: Well, I wrote this story in my blog and my friend...
COP: What's a blog?
ME: It's short for weblog.
COP: Then why don’t you just call it weblog?
I explained that 'blog' is hipper and cooler. I was losing him with the hip, cool angle, so I backed off and agreed that they should call it ‘weblog’ and that I’d do my best to change the entire system. But in the meantime, I'd spend my time worrying about the outcome of my situation. I could imagine myself in jail, making that horrific phone call home, telling my folks that I had been arrested.
But that never happened. The cops told Manny and me to get back into the truck and to wait. Manny started to freak out. He overheard one of the cop's talking about "indecent exposure" and imagined his photo being placed all over the internet above the caption: SEXUAL OFFENDER. We didn't even do anything, and we were in the parking lot for not even a second. Sexual offender was not a title I was willing to put on my resume. I tried to clear my mind by turning on the radio. Beyonce's "Check On It" was on, and through the lyrics I was able to find serenity.
Watch it, while he check up on it...dip it, pop it, twerk it, stop it...check on me tonight!
In the end, the cops sent us along our merry way. As it turns out, the car hiding in the corner was occupied by a guy and an underage kid. They were smokin' weed and getting each other off. The guy knew he was busted beyond belief and to save himself from further emabarassment, he told the cops we had pulled into the parking lot not a second before they did. Thank God there are some sexual offenders out there, who still have some morals. As we pulled out the parking lot, I realized two things. One was to never ever forget my wallet ever again. If I have to, I will convert my ID into fashionable neckwear. That sucker will never leave me. And two...my days of backseat banging are totally destroyed. Never again, will I be turned on by the prospect of a quickie in a small crowded area. Damn.
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