Around the ripe ol' age of eighteen, I began to rebel in any which way possible. Alcohol seemed to be the easiest fit for such work. One fateful weekend, I planned an evening of debauchery with my friend Miranda, who was up at school.
Miranda was attending Rutgers and living off-campus in New Brunswick, New Jersey, where their main campus resides. I drove up for the evening, ready for fun. Miranda lived in a house with three roommates at the time: Lucy, Andrea, and weird-Susan. Miranda had been friends with Lucy and Andrea for years and had set out to claim housing with them. When a friend dropped out of their housing search, they were left with weird-Susan. I had been warned about weird-Susan. I had been told it was in my best interest to stay away from this girl. Weird-Susan was a caricature of a person. She was frumpy, moody, and a big Debbie Downer. Her attitude can best be matched in Alan Arkin's mood throughout the 90's Film 'Slums of Beverly Hills'. Check it out here.
That being said, I didn't see the harm in weird-Susan despite the warnings. She seemed harmless. Moody and pessimistic - yes, but she seemed virtually harmless.
The plan for the evening was set to be Miranda, myself, Lucy, and Andrea drinking the night away. Weird-Susan was not be in attendance. As we were getting ready to leave their house, Miranda's basket-case of a roommate, weird-Susan, arrived home. Miranda and her other roommates had no intention of inviting weird-Susan. I, on the other hand, was merely seeking some form of rebellion that evening and didn't see the harm in weird-Susan's attendance. She wanted to join in the festivities. After my invite, Miranda and her posse reluctantly agreed to oblige. We headed over to a house-party somewhere on the Rutgers campus. The party was sequestered to the attic of this house. There were far too many people in a very small place. If one was not a claustrophobic individual, this party could have easily changed that. There were well over fifty underage co-eds in about 100 square feet of space. That being said, there were underage drinkers everywhere, music blasting, and excited drunk undergrads. At the time, this felt awesome. That being said, I felt a bit claustrophobic. I had a bit of a buzz going, but I hadn't met any boys yet that night and the social environment was not what I was expecting. The thing about me is that once I get an idea in my head, it is very difficult to change that. If it was up to me, we would have ventured into Manhattan and tried to get into a gay bar. This was not my home, though, and I was Miranda's guest. She was my tour guide and had kept up her promise to take me out.
I was still somewhat disappointed and anxious in this tight space. I threw a few beers back in said cramped, overpopulated attic. Then Miranda's uninvited roommate began to take a liking to me. She started chatting my ear off and asked if I wanted to go outside for a cigarette with her. I was not addicted to smoking at this time and had only done it a handful of times. I was rebellious and actively searching for my voice amongst all of the craziness in my life and I wanted to do bad things. Cigarettes were the epitome of bad in my eyes and so I gladly accepted her offer. Miranda warned me not to leave with her roommate. She didn't want me smoking cigarettes and she didn't trust her roommate. She was an awkward girl that never seemed to be fully present. Needless to say, I felt as if I knew better. With that said, I had agreed to go outside and was anxious to feel cool with a cigarette pursed against my lips.
We walked down the stairs of this house, exiting the fire hazard of a party that was occurring upstairs. We took the red solo cups, filled with beer from upstairs, outside with us. We stood next to a car on the edge of the sidewalk and set our beers down. I did not attend Rutgers at the time and didn't know the area or the rules. Weird-Susan assured me that she knew where we could congregate and what we could do. She opened her oversized handbag and reached in for a pack of Marlboro Lights. This was my sister's brand of cigarettes and I had smoked them with her before, so I was happy to accept one. As we lit up, I began to realize why Miranda and her other two roommates warned me about Weird-Susan. She was erratic, kooky, angry, and not present. Most of our conversation was irrelevant to anything. I just thought she was a huge weirdo. As we were standing outside, it started to hit me that I may have been somewhat inebriated. As I'm realizing this, I decide we should go back inside and grab Miranda. Weird-Susan insisted we finish our cigarettes and I obliged. As we were putting out our last puffs, a Rutgers Campus Police car came driving up, flashing its lights. Weird-Susan had finished her beer and now carried an empty red solo cup, while my cup was still half-full. Not being a student of Rutgers University at the time, I didn't know protocol and I wasn't sure what our next step should be. Weird-Susan told me to toss my cup on the curb. "Get rid of your beer! Spill it out! Then, they can't do anything!" So, I did.
I'm not sure the Campus Police planned on stopping, but after my careless attempt to spill out my alcohol, they decided to stop their Campus Police Car right in front of us. I turned to Weird-Susan for direction. She immediately whispered to me: "Tell them you have no I.D. or wallet if they ask." At this point, I should have realized weird-Susan did not have any authority or claim to ground, but alas, I still listened to her. I was nervous. Not only were we drinking outside, but we were under the legal drinking age. As they approached, the campus police officers began screaming at me and exited their patrol car. They asked me why I spilled the cup and I stood there dumbfounded, in shock. What was happening? This kept running through my mind. I was drunk on top of all of this, so I couldn't be fully rational. I had no answer for them other than a claim that there was no alcohol in the cup, which was obvious to all involved that this was a lie. They asked us each for identification. At the time, I had an expired New York State I.D. from one of my older sister's friends. I also had my regular New Jersey License. My sister had warned me never to hand over my wallet with the fake inside, so I insisted that I had no wallet or I.D. with me. Rational and clear thinking for a drunken eighteen year old is not always a high possibility. It definitely was not with me. As soon as I said no, they patted me down and found my wallet in my back pocket - the most obvious hiding place. As soon as the campus police officer opened my wallet, he found both Identification cards. He turned to scare tactics, insinuating terrible consequences to my possession of an I.D. not legally issued to me. I was so nervous and scared at this moment. I didn't know what to expect and I didn't understand the difference between campus police and actual Police Officers. These were glorified meter-maids and mall-cops, but I feared them like a Drill Sargent second in command to the President. I just wanted to escape this scenario. Weird-Susan handed over her I.D. without a bit of reluctance. At this point, the campus police targeted me alone and seemed mostly disinterested in Weird-Susan. Weird-Susan had found a way to escape any and all punishment. She was now just standing there, watching me get detained.
As the campus police handcuffed me and proceeded to read me my Miranda Rights (how ironic...), the whole evening became very real to me. I was still drunk, but I knew something had changed. I realized that I was in real trouble for my evening, now. I couldn't believe this was happening. Nothing like this had ever occurred before for me. I had flashbacks to the trouble my older brother would get into with the law when I was younger and started worrying about whether or not I had just destroyed my own life. I was a sheltered little Jewish gay boy from a secluded community and this seemed so far out of my league. I knew that despite being drunk, I had to behave. I wanted to get out of this as quickly as possible with the fewest scratches possible. They threw me in the back of their patrol car and drove me off. Weird-Susan just stood there watching the car drive away. She never once ran in to grab Miranda or their other roommates. Clearly, Miranda was correct all along. This girl I had been warned about had been the one who had suggested we go outside, beers in hand. She was also the person that insisted I spill my drink, in turn provoking the ridiculous campus police. She then seemed to do nothing and take no responsibility for the situation. At the very least, she could have gone inside and found Miranda. Instead she just stared as I was driven away. I watched her, in confusion, from the back window of the car. It was like the end of a suspense thriller where the innocent is detained and taken away, while the true villain watches on, giggling, escaping any consequences...
When we arrived to the "Police Station" - a term which I use very loosely - I was removed from my shackles momentarily. Almost immediately, the campus police handcuffed one of my hands to a hard, uncomfortable bench in a room beneath the ground floor. I had no idea how long they would hold me there for. Once I was handcuffed to the bench, they left me alone. These two men went about their business elsewhere and I was left to my own devices, uncomfortable and drunk, trembling with fear. A short time into my stay, I became more comfortable with my new habitat. I was not comfortable, but it became clear I was not leaving any time too soon. I became resolved to this setting. After some more time passed, my phone began to ring. I forgot I still had my phone on me, too embarrassed and shamed to call anyone - also, still drunk.
With one hand free and no "officers" present, I decided to answer. It was late into the evening, sometime past midnight. The party on the other end was a popular radio station from back home. I had been randomly entered into their database for a special raffle and had won! What had I won?! Front row tickets with backstage VIP passes for Britney Spears, live in concert. This was at the height of Britney's commercial success and popularity and everyone I knew wanted tickets to see her live. This was well before her public meltdown, shaving of her head, Cheetos-addiction, and all of the media attention. She was the hottest performer around. Drunkenly, I answered a couple of questions for the radio host and was promised said tickets. I was, however, still drunk - and the DJ was having fun with this... When asked my interest in attending the show, I informed the DJ that I of course wanted Britney tickets! When asked how I was, I proudly exclaimed: "I'm drunk!" I'm sure my slurred words already gave that away. Then I was asked where I was, to which I drunkenly announced: "I'm handcuffed to a bench!" I then asked if the radio station had keys to my locks. The radio station had no idea when they first called me that they were entering golden lands. Here I was, handcuffed to a bench, ranting on a radio station all about it. This received many laughs from the radio host and after a few more questions, they asked me to stay on the line as they were going to transfer me to the producers to cover the logistics of my receiving these tickets. At the time, I didn't realize this and hung up the phone. I was just overly excited for my Britney tickets; and drunk. (It wasn't until later that week that I discovered my mistake.)
After a number of hours being chained to a bench in the Campus Police Station, I was let loose. I was handed a ticket and court date, but left to my own devices. When I came outside, there was no one waiting for me. I didn't know where I was, outside of the fact that I was on Rutgers Campus. I started wandering the streets in search of Miranda. Sober now, it was easier for me to navigate myself through the New Jersey streets. Eventually I found Miranda. She had been searching for me, when a friend called and told her to turn on the radio. They had heard me on the radio, along with most everyone on Rutger's campus, and had been searching endlessly for hours. She was overly apologetic, but mostly concerned with who my plus one would be for the Britney concert. She felt terrible, but also thought it was hysterical that I was offered front row tickets to a coveted concert tour while intoxicated under arrest. This was an evening that only I was capable of experiencing. After all of the chaos, I was ready to go to sleep. I went back to Miranda's house and crashed in her bed. The next morning it was the talk of the town at Rutgers.
I wanted to rebel that evening and I wanted to try something new and dangerous. I did just that. I was back up at Rutgers the following month for my court appearance. The court date led to a small penalty fee and no record of an offense, so I soon discovered that this "arrest" was taken from the Mickey Mouse School of illegal activity. Walking away from that evening, my story became legend at Rutgers and my Britney tickets are a continuing joke of the time as I never got to see the Cheetos-Queen herself...
Thoughts or opinions?
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