A Little Elaboration

Sunday, July 30, 2006

The Time I Almost Went to Jail Part 2: The Crosstown Incident, or, How I'm Like the Dukes of Hazzard

Okay, this will officially be part two in the Almost Arrested Series. The title assumes that you know that the Dukes of Hazzard actually had a job besides driving Boss Hogg and Roscoe P. Coltrane crazy. Beau and Luke delivered the moonshine that Uncle Jesse brewed on the farm. So, the following is the account of the second time I almost got arrested, this is The Crosstown Incident, or, How I'm Like the Dukes of Hazzard.

Senior year and May, there are no two things that an 18 year old looks forward to more. My friends and I had been celebrating a lot lately in apprehension of our upcoming commencement ceremony. That weekend was somewhat different. While in preparation for most celebrations, most high school students were left to fend for themselves, in-so-much as acquiring the cocktails needed for the night's activities.

[This party was to be thrown by a new character in the series, The Crooked Politician].

The way in which this weekend was different than all the others was that The Crooked Politician was fitting the bill for the whole soiree', not only was he to be our benefactor, but he was also providing the location for the grand ball, his parents' pool house.

This was the perfect location for a celebration of this caliber, the main house was to be locked up, but right next to that residence was a fabulous swimming pool and the pool house was adjacent. The Crooked Politician's parents not only knew about the events that would unfold, but also aided in the monetary costs of the celebration. This is interesting because the father of The Crooked Politician was the president of the ABLE commission of Oklahoma. The ABLE commission is the commission that prevents the illegal sale of alcoholic beverages to minors. It is obvious, in retrospect, that this is where The Crooked Politician got his genes.

The Buck was made head of the alcohol gathering committee, which was a glove that fit him just fine. The Buck's mother was the head of purchase at a hotel in our small hamlet, so she simply put in an order for an extra keg of beer for the bar. We got the beer at cost, and also bypassed the red tape that is involved in buying alcohol at the age of 18. The Buck's uncle was another aide in the process, as the date of the celebration drew nearer, word of the party spread around the hallowed halls of our educational establishment. It became obvious by midweek that the keg of beer would not be enough to feed the hungry masses that would gather come Friday evening. The Buck approached his uncle and asked, if we paid for the alcohol, could he possibly stop by a liquor establishment and purchase some of the requisite materials for the weekend. Also, we may need more beer, and it would be of great help if he could perhaps pick up some more of the brewed stuff. The Buck's uncle, in his infinite wisdom (or drunkenness) agreed with at smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Friday afternoon finally came, it was my job to accompany The Buck in the transportation of the goods to The Crooked Politician's place of residence. The Buck drove in his tattered, old, blue van. The smell of it still brings a smile to my face. It was two years earlier, in that van that on the first day that The Buck had his driver's license, he and I were headed over to the Rialto to take in a film and were rear-ended by another car. He had his license for less than 6 hours and had already been in an accident. That could only happen to The Buck.

Anyway, The Buck and I first headed over to his mother's place of business to pick up the keg. Everything had gone to plan and we paid the bartender the money that we owed. We then headed over to The Buck's uncles' house to drive him to the places we needed to obtain the goods required. First we went to the liquor store and the uncle purchased three quarts each of the following: rum, tequila, whiskey, and vodka. Then, we traveled to a place of business that sold the masterpiece of the monks that we desired so. While in the van still, the uncle asked us how much beer we wanted.

"However much this will buy us," The Buck replied, handing him a wad of money.

"This is like two-hundred dollars," his uncle stated.

"(The Crooked Politician) said to buy as much as we could with what he gave us," was The Buck's explanation.

The Buck's uncle returned a few minutes later carrying four thirty-pack cases of beer. "I'll be right back," he told us. He re-entered the store and came back with four more cases, "Just one more trip," he then said. At this, The Buck and I smiled at each other. Finally, the uncle came back with his last load, four more cases. We then drove The Buck's uncle back to his house and he told us to be careful, we told him we know what we were doing. Or at least we thought we did.

It was about a four mile drive back to The Crooked Politician's house and The Buck and I were carrying a van-load of alcohol. All told we had: 1 keg of beer, 12 bottles of liquor, and 12 thirty-pack cases of beer; we were 18 years old.

On the way to the site of the gathering I made an observation, "You know, if we get pulled over, we're going to jail."

"Yeah, I know," replied The Buck.

It was then that our plan took a turn that we hadn't expected. A police officer pulled in behind us. The Buck began to panic. "Just drive the speed limit and use your blinkers," I told him. "They can't pull you over if you're not breaking the law."

"We are breaking the law!" he exclaimed.

The police car's lights then popped on and it's siren began to wail.

"What do I do now?!," The Buck wanted to know.

"What do you mean, what do you do? You pull over!" I yelled.

"If I pull over we're going to jail, we're only like 2 miles from (The Crooked Politician's) house!"

"You are not going to try and outrun a cop!" I shouted, "He might not even think to look in the back if you just pull over! If you try and outrun him we're going to jail, for sure!"

"We've got 500lbs of alcohol in this van!" The Buck exclaimed, "I'm pretty sure we're riding a little bit low to the ground, he knows we're hauling something!"

"Just pull over to the side of the road!" I pleaded.

The Buck then made his decision, he pulled over. As we both watched the police vehicle in the rear-view mirrors we held our breath. The car pulled out and around us and sped down the street on his way to another crime being committed.

We sat in complete silence for at least three minutes, The Buck then put the car in gear and drove to The Crooked Politician's house, the entire time we were doing our best mime impressions.

When we arrived at the place of celebration we got out of the van and unloaded the goods, we then decided that it would be best if we just washed our hands of the whole experience. We were going home, we didn't want anything more to do with this process.

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