Pt. 3 of the continuing saga of my brief and only involvement with the law.
We froze. Not a sound is heard except for the soft plopping of toilet paper rolls.
Larry stepped out onto the porch and began naming names. Perpetrators fled. I'm torn--run, confess, run, confess.....which shall it be????
He hasn't called my name yet--I choose to run!
I dash across the street only to trip on the curb and sprawl gracefully across someone's drive.
A friend grabs my arm and pulls me up.
Other friends make it to the cars and drive away......(tires screeching in the night!)
Leaving me and one other girl to walk home.
In the dark.
After committing a crime of which I was sure we'd go to jail for.
(Did I say these people were my friends?)
Luckily, the friend who was left behind was a native of the city and knew her way very well through the alleys and back streets. (Why would this be you might ask? Why would this sweet, BSU attending college student who stayed behind to help a friend know the back alleyways and darkest streets of the city???Perhaps she lived a life of crime that I was to naive to see at the time!)
We dashed and zigged and zagged for a bit, then I was winded and we began to meander. I jumped at every car that passed--looking for flashing red lights....listening for the fateful sound of a siren.
Sadly, our luck did not hold. A police car came down our alley. We started to run, but the alley was a dead end my friend said, "Oh don't run. I know all the cops in town. It's no big deal (another hint of her dark past that I should have heeded....)."
Guess what. It turned out to be a big deal. She didn't know this guy. He didn't know her. He was looking for college students who'd been toilet papering a house.
I threw the toilet paper rolls I'd been clutching in my sweaty fists behind me. They bounced off a metal trash can, startling rats from their night time feeding. The red eyes of the rodents glared at me--they knew what I'd been doing. (ok, not really. I wasn't still carrying the toilet paper rolls. We weren't in an alley. I didn't see rats. The policeman was real).
The policeman radioed into head quarters requesting a backup. He said he had the perps and we were going to guide him to the home of our gang leader. He told us to get into the car.
Luckily (or unluckily if you like that sort of thing) no handcuffs were used. He did not guard our head as we ducked into the back seat.
The backseat of a police car in the middle of the night is very dark and very cold and very scary.
Especially when you think about your one phone call. And calling your parents. And then you hope your dad would answer because he was in trouble a lot in High School and he'd surely understand.
Many stories herein are subject to the faulty, and sometimes creative, memory of the blog owner and should not be taken as factual, although the names and events are real! Kind of.