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you have been the one, you have been the one for me

Monday, June 07, 2004

Chapel Hill in June is a beautiful thing, so when the word came through that a keg party was going down at a secluded townhouse steps from Franklin Street, plans for Saturday night were made without a second thought. Come hell or night shift at work, the Chosen One Himself was going to make an appearance that would make Janet Jackson's right nipple cry. Little did I know that the night's events would not only show me Lady Luck, but clone her and bring them both to my side.

I was released from the dungeon of work around 10:45 pm and made the trek from Cary to the party. When I arrived, everyone was drinking beer and badly-mixed daiquiris, listening to Kanye West, watching hockey and just generally having a good time. I joined them. We drink some more beer, and about when 2:30 am rolls around, my superhuman alcohol-induced intellect decides that I need more smokes and the party needs more beer (half a keg for fifteen drunks didn't seem like enough). I did my best Dubya Bush impression and haphazardly assembled a coalition of the willing to launch an attack on the Murda Mart to continue the fight against soberness and lack of smokes. When the Coalition's attack resulted in empty hands, that's when the night got interesting.

First, let me give you the rundown on the Coalition of the Willing. "Avril" was supposed to be the sober driver (who happened to be driving her friend's car without a license). "George," "Anthony" and I were the passengers. When leaving the closed Murda Mart, Avril forgets to turn on the lights. Cops usually frown on this behavior, and the one that passed us at that very moment decided to frown on us in person. She (yes, she) lit up and proceeded to pull us over. At this point, Avril is fucked like Paris Hilton in a homemade video. Sitting in the driver's seat with no license, and she's been drinking. The cop takes Avril and puts her in the back of the black and white. We fear the worst.

While Officer Butch spends some quality time with Avril, her backup arrives. Two more black and white driving, fat, out-of-shape beat cops show up and immediately begin calculating how badly they can fuck us over. Now, mind you, George and Anthony are both black, and unless you haven't, um, lived in America lately, you know that black men and cops go together like George Tenet and the director of the CIA: they're completely different people. The backups look us over in the car and, upon noticing a certain cranium accessory being worn by George, decide to racially profile us and violate our civil rights. Each of us gets pulled out of the car and thoroughly patted down. No, officer, those are my testicles, not crack rocks. The pigs then go ahead and search the car. No, officer, you don't have probable cause to look for whatever-the-hell-you're-looking-for, but go ahead and violate my rights some more. It's not like there's any real crime like murder and robbery going on elsewhere. Just waste your time with these kids and try to ruin their lives for absolutely no reason other than your own boredom. There's a very distinct possibility that God hates me (Tyler's words coming out of my mouth... actually just going through my head).

Four illegal searches and one poorly-written citation later, the cops chose to fuck around even more before letting us go. Since Avril's .03 BAC makes too drunk to drive us home, someone has to blow .00 or else you have to walk and we tow the car. After looking us over, she points to Anthony and says You, you have to blow or else you walk. Anthony just happened to be wearing two flipped-up collared shirts. It is a very real possibility that she mistook him for a member of Pi Kappa Phi, and thus, George and I are again victims of racial profiling. So, while George and I prepare to walk back to the party, Anthony steps up and blows. The breathalyzer says... double goose eggs. Thanks officer, I'll be riding home, in this car, driven by this black man, who's been drinking beer all night. You've successfully wasted an hour of my life. I hope your wife cuts your balls off while you sleep and throws them out of a moving vehicle. That goes for you too Officer Butch, Have a pleasant evening.

Yes, I came away unscathed from my encounter with Chapel Hill's fattest. Yes, I realize that the failure of the Coalition was a blessing because it kept us out of jail. What can I say, Chapel Hill never fails to disappoint.

Ed. Some names have been changed to protect the guilty. Sorry, but it was dark and I didn't get a good look at their badges.

posted by accident at 10:46:00 PM +

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