How I got busted by the POLE-ice
I was a very defiant teenager. As good a job as my southern parents did trying to raise a polite, respectful southern beel for a daughter, the unwittingly also passed along the "southern spunk gene." I was fine in public - I was a very nice, sweet, polite young lady. But, get me home alone with them, and I was a shrew. I wanted nothing of of the traditional "Little House on the Prarie" family setting. I did not want to be told what to do. This spunk gene I got didn't reveal itself until I became a teenager, which I suspect is normal.
I would smoke, stay out late, hang around with people they didn't approve me hanging out with (or hanging out in general for that matter), especially "older men" (meaning boys 15 or over). Now, when I was 13, it was 1981 - before all this AIDS stuff, before Amber Alerts and touchy-feely priests (well at least that we knew of). Now that I look back I realize I was too easily influenced by the "bad kids" and wanted desperately to "be cool" which meant to "be bad." Of course back then I was 100% certain I was right and my parents were wrong and I was doing nothing at all to deserve this strict, rule-giving parent crap.
Fast forward to when I was oh, 17 or thereabouts. The fighting between my parents and I grew worse, to the point that verbal explosions were a daily occurrence, followed by my either stomping up the stairs to my room, slamming the door so hard as to nearly rip it off the hinges, and blasting Ozzy or Judas Priest as loud as my stereo would take it, or slamming the front door as I left, not caring about the consequences, just need to get out get out get of that fucking house.
There was this bad boy who lived the next block over. His name was Steve, but everyone called him "Ab." Don't know why, just what they called him. He was not the smartest tool in the shed, but was tall, with long blonde hair and walked around in the summer with jeans and no shirt on. Well, that was enough for me. I was madly in love and convinced we would eventually marry and have cute little babies and live happily ever after. Or, maybe that was just the alcohol talkin :o).
One day I stormed out of my parents house, with smoke coming out of my ears, face red with anger; just another day. I went running over to Steve's place. He knew I needed to get away from them for a while and cool off, so he came up with a brilliant idea. We'd run away for a day or two and hitch-hike down the shore! (I lived in a Western Philly suburb, about 1 1/2 - 2 hour drive to the store. I didn't have a change of clothes, nothing - just my purse with very little money. He had the same (well, not a purse.... you get the picture).
I honestly don't remember much of the hitch-hiking experience. I know some guy picked us up first - he weirded both of us out a little, so we got dropped off after only about 1/2 hour of driving. Then our next and last ride was in a car with 2 guys and 2 girls, also heading to the shore. Excellent!!! I think I remember them smoking some of the "funny stuff," because I don't remember much of that ride now :op
So, we get to the store, it's nighttime. We spent what little money we had on a slice of pizza or two and head to the beach to sleep. We did a little making out, and woke up the next morning tired, hungry and dirty. It was awful. I wished I was home. But I was too proud to do something that sensible! He actually suggested we go to the local "shelter" to get a free meal, which I reluctantly did. That was humiliating, but everyone was very nice to us. We ate, listened to the message (forget now what they said), and were on our way. We headed back to the beach, just sitting around, hanging out, not sure what to do or where to go. Ab spots some girl he went to high school with. He does't go over to say hello, as most people would - he just stays where he is, and keeps glancing over there to where she (and her boyfriend, I assume)is laying on the beach. They eventually get up and head into the water - I remember if being hot as shit that day (I had jeans on, and didn't have a change of clothes). He says he'll be right back, and wanders off in the same general direction. I figured he was gonna go say hi after all, maybe see if he can borrow a few bucks for us to get something to eat. I get distracted watching the ocean, etc. and when he comes back, he's carrying a whole bunch of stuff and telling me to hurry up and follow him off the beach. Being naive to such thing, it took me a few minutes to realize what he had done. By then, we were a couple blocks away from the beach and headed toward a dumpster in the back of a deserted motel. He done stole their shit! I was dumbfounded - I'd never in a million years have done something like that, now I was an accomplice! He went through the stuff quickly and found a little bit of money - less than $20 - and threw the rest of the stuff in the dumpster, grabbed my hand and we started walking - fast. We got oh, maybe 2 blocks, and there came the cops. I was seriously about to shit myself. I had in essence run away from home, the guy I was with just stole peole's stuff on the beach, and I was officially up shit's creek without a paddle.
The cops separated us, me into one car and him into another. I was scared shitless and knew dealing with the cops was nothing compared to what was gonna happen when my parents got "the call." Oh fuck, how did this happen? I was too young and much too stupid to take RESPONSIBILITY for my actions! It was all HIS fault goddammit!
We get to the police station in Wildwood, NJ - not the most technologically advanced place, but the bars were just as strong. They questioned us separately - well I don't actually know what they did with him, I never saw him again after that day. I told them my story (the truth for a change!), and the couple whose stuff got stolen dropped any charges against me. They called my parents, who had to drive the 2 hours to come and get me. So, while I 'waited,' they actually put me in a CELL (I guess more just to put me somewhere more or less comfortable, and probably to each me a lesson as well It was so freakin cold in there. The air was blasting (you know how guys always want the air down so low ice starts to form), I had jeans and a tank top on, I think, and I was sooooooo cold. The cops were very nice to me though. They got me a cheeseburger and soda, and I sat there for 2 hours, waiting.....
My parents got there, and believe it or not they weren't all that pissed - they were a LITTLE pissed, but more so just glad I wasn't dead in a ditch. I'm not a parent, so I still don't know the totality of how much a parent worries about their child; however, I was doin a bit of worrying myself :o)
**P.S. THIS is the weather here for the next 10 days - can someone tell the fucking weatherman that IT'S ALMOST SUMMER GODDAMMIT!!!!!
I would smoke, stay out late, hang around with people they didn't approve me hanging out with (or hanging out in general for that matter), especially "older men" (meaning boys 15 or over). Now, when I was 13, it was 1981 - before all this AIDS stuff, before Amber Alerts and touchy-feely priests (well at least that we knew of). Now that I look back I realize I was too easily influenced by the "bad kids" and wanted desperately to "be cool" which meant to "be bad." Of course back then I was 100% certain I was right and my parents were wrong and I was doing nothing at all to deserve this strict, rule-giving parent crap.
Fast forward to when I was oh, 17 or thereabouts. The fighting between my parents and I grew worse, to the point that verbal explosions were a daily occurrence, followed by my either stomping up the stairs to my room, slamming the door so hard as to nearly rip it off the hinges, and blasting Ozzy or Judas Priest as loud as my stereo would take it, or slamming the front door as I left, not caring about the consequences, just need to get out get out get of that fucking house.
There was this bad boy who lived the next block over. His name was Steve, but everyone called him "Ab." Don't know why, just what they called him. He was not the smartest tool in the shed, but was tall, with long blonde hair and walked around in the summer with jeans and no shirt on. Well, that was enough for me. I was madly in love and convinced we would eventually marry and have cute little babies and live happily ever after. Or, maybe that was just the alcohol talkin :o).
One day I stormed out of my parents house, with smoke coming out of my ears, face red with anger; just another day. I went running over to Steve's place. He knew I needed to get away from them for a while and cool off, so he came up with a brilliant idea. We'd run away for a day or two and hitch-hike down the shore! (I lived in a Western Philly suburb, about 1 1/2 - 2 hour drive to the store. I didn't have a change of clothes, nothing - just my purse with very little money. He had the same (well, not a purse.... you get the picture).
I honestly don't remember much of the hitch-hiking experience. I know some guy picked us up first - he weirded both of us out a little, so we got dropped off after only about 1/2 hour of driving. Then our next and last ride was in a car with 2 guys and 2 girls, also heading to the shore. Excellent!!! I think I remember them smoking some of the "funny stuff," because I don't remember much of that ride now :op
So, we get to the store, it's nighttime. We spent what little money we had on a slice of pizza or two and head to the beach to sleep. We did a little making out, and woke up the next morning tired, hungry and dirty. It was awful. I wished I was home. But I was too proud to do something that sensible! He actually suggested we go to the local "shelter" to get a free meal, which I reluctantly did. That was humiliating, but everyone was very nice to us. We ate, listened to the message (forget now what they said), and were on our way. We headed back to the beach, just sitting around, hanging out, not sure what to do or where to go. Ab spots some girl he went to high school with. He does't go over to say hello, as most people would - he just stays where he is, and keeps glancing over there to where she (and her boyfriend, I assume)is laying on the beach. They eventually get up and head into the water - I remember if being hot as shit that day (I had jeans on, and didn't have a change of clothes). He says he'll be right back, and wanders off in the same general direction. I figured he was gonna go say hi after all, maybe see if he can borrow a few bucks for us to get something to eat. I get distracted watching the ocean, etc. and when he comes back, he's carrying a whole bunch of stuff and telling me to hurry up and follow him off the beach. Being naive to such thing, it took me a few minutes to realize what he had done. By then, we were a couple blocks away from the beach and headed toward a dumpster in the back of a deserted motel. He done stole their shit! I was dumbfounded - I'd never in a million years have done something like that, now I was an accomplice! He went through the stuff quickly and found a little bit of money - less than $20 - and threw the rest of the stuff in the dumpster, grabbed my hand and we started walking - fast. We got oh, maybe 2 blocks, and there came the cops. I was seriously about to shit myself. I had in essence run away from home, the guy I was with just stole peole's stuff on the beach, and I was officially up shit's creek without a paddle.
The cops separated us, me into one car and him into another. I was scared shitless and knew dealing with the cops was nothing compared to what was gonna happen when my parents got "the call." Oh fuck, how did this happen? I was too young and much too stupid to take RESPONSIBILITY for my actions! It was all HIS fault goddammit!
We get to the police station in Wildwood, NJ - not the most technologically advanced place, but the bars were just as strong. They questioned us separately - well I don't actually know what they did with him, I never saw him again after that day. I told them my story (the truth for a change!), and the couple whose stuff got stolen dropped any charges against me. They called my parents, who had to drive the 2 hours to come and get me. So, while I 'waited,' they actually put me in a CELL (I guess more just to put me somewhere more or less comfortable, and probably to each me a lesson as well It was so freakin cold in there. The air was blasting (you know how guys always want the air down so low ice starts to form), I had jeans and a tank top on, I think, and I was sooooooo cold. The cops were very nice to me though. They got me a cheeseburger and soda, and I sat there for 2 hours, waiting.....
My parents got there, and believe it or not they weren't all that pissed - they were a LITTLE pissed, but more so just glad I wasn't dead in a ditch. I'm not a parent, so I still don't know the totality of how much a parent worries about their child; however, I was doin a bit of worrying myself :o)
**P.S. THIS is the weather here for the next 10 days - can someone tell the fucking weatherman that IT'S ALMOST SUMMER GODDAMMIT!!!!!
posted by Miss_Vicki at 8:05 PM
|
<< Home