From The Archives Of My Mind: Woods Parties

I grew up in a small rural town in a southern suburb of Boston. It was, and still is a great little town, with a top school system and a high median priced home. There were lots of sprawling hills and woods aplenty, which today I am surprised to see have turned into massive sub-divisions with equally massive homes. I still have family that lives in the town and as I was driving through recently, I went by one of the subdivisions I referred to and remembered what it used to be. Miles and miles of undisturbed woods. Of course things were different back then, and as kids in high school do, we appreciated and utilized the woods for their intended splendor; a great cover for our woods parties.

If I remember correctly, what started out as a group of freshman in high school looking for a discreet place to illegally drink undetected, quickly turned into our chosen weekend destination. We called it "84", the name paying homage to the year of our graduating class. 84 was deep in the woods along a horse farm lined street, with the entrance at the top of a field. We would enter through the field, cases of beer and brown paper bags in hand, and walk until we reached a clearing in the woods. There, we built a huge fire pit, complete with seating, out of logs and rocks. We lit a fire, brought a "boom box", and got wasted under the twinkle of the stars in the sky. It was great and soon enough, word got out around the school. Each weekend, more and more upperclassmen came to join in the celebration at 84. Some of my most memorable high school social triumphs and tribulations took place in the woods at that sacred place.

But, as with all good things which inevitably come to an end, the triumph of 84 did indeed come to an end. With the influx of upperclassmen came their cars, and more bodies which meant more alcohol and more volume. It certainly didn't take long for the jig to be up. The music got louder, the cars became noticeably lined along the quiet street and the cops in the small town were bored enough to have a reason to pounce. The first time it happened, I remember looking up and seeing the boys in blue standing at attention around the fire. Imagine tons of kids scattering like cockroaches under a just lit a light bulb, running through the thick of the woods. The woods were dense and dark and the cops were greatly out numbered, but they pursued us on foot without much success.

Most of us ended up with multiple scrapes, cuts, and bruises from tree branches or sprained ankles and a concussion or two from running full speed into a large tree trunk in the black of the thick woods. This quickly became the game. It was us against them, and if you went to 84 for an evening, the chances were great that you would end up "running from the bust" as we used to call it. Even though we always entered through the same place, we ended up coming out at different spots and you never ended up with the friends that you came with. Instead you ended up with whomever happened to be running in the same direction as you, no where near where you started. Usually on a dimly lit street somewhere in the town and you and the kids you hardly knew had to trek back home on foot. Great times.

As a parent of a high school aged child now, I think back at the dangers of our weekends at 84 with wonder. This was before cell phones and we irresponsibly ran rampant around our quiet town. The local papers published articles with the police chief warning parents about the perils of "out of control underage drinking in the woods". It's a wonder no one was killed or abducted. The horror we all put our parents through. But somehow it seemed like a different time back then and most certainly a different world. A pure and innocent world where running from the cops on a Saturday night was a rite of passage.

My Brief Stint As A Serial Killer

Back in the 80's the Boston Celtics reigned supreme in the NBA. ( kinda like they do today) These were the good old days of Larry Bird, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale. Yeaah, I still wax sentimental when I think of the "Big Green" in those days. At the time, I was a young high school student without much of a social life, so the Celts became my constant companion. Even though a few decades have come and gone since then, I still remember the incident with the clarity as if it happened just yesterday.

It was a Friday night late in the spring of that year. Being the youngest in a family of five without a social calendar to adhere to, I was left alone in the house, as even my parents were out to dinner with friends. The Celts were playing the dreaded Detroit Pistons that night in a battle to sit atop the NBA. The Pistons were the team we loved to hate, with bad boys lining their payroll the likes the NBA has yet to see to this day. We're talking headliners like Bill Laimbeer, Isiah Thomas, and the reprehensable Dennis Rodman. Back in those days, Rodman was at work fine tuning his bad boy image; showing up to events in drag dressed as a bride, wearing black lipstick and make-up, and hanging out with Madonna. The dude was a freak! but he had serious game so the Pistons put up and shut up, as they say. It was always a dog fight when the Celts and the Pistons played, their disdain for each other no secret to any casual observer. Especially when the game took place inside the hallowed, historied walls of the Boston Garden and this night would prove to be no different.

It was a warm evening and our house had no central AC, so I had the windows open in my room which faced the south side of the house, not too far from my neighbor's house while I watched the game. And what a game it was! One of those legendary-once in a lifetime-triple overtime- with one-second-left-basket, to put the game into YET another overtime-game. I was jumping on my bed, going nuts! I remember shouting at the refs, shouting at the players, hootin and hollering and screaming thing like, "take that bitch!" and "die Laimbeer, die!" I am nothing if not a passionate sports fan. After the game was over and the Celts spanked the Pistons like the bitches that they were, I decided to go down to the kitchen to make myself a mini victory feast, a huge smile covering my face.

Our kitchen was accessible from the driveway on the south side of the house, and I had left the front door open, leaving just the unlocked screen door,between myself and the bright, shining light which was now glaring through the screen into my kitchen. As I turned the corner to enter the kitchen, and just before switching on the light, I caught a glimpse of the glare of the un-invited illumination and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Panic paralyzed my body and my at one time victorious smile disappeared as I stood still while the next chain of events happened.

In one fell swoop, the screen door opened and four uniformed police officers descended upon me like a SWAT training exersise in progress. One officer scooped my up into his arms while the other officers, weapons brandished, scattered all over my house.

"Miss, are you alright?" the officer holding me shouted. "Are you hurt?"

Again, paralyzed by fear, I tried to utter some form of a response, but much like I was in the midst of a bad dream, I couldn't get the words out.

"Are you OK?" the officer pleaded again.

"Yeah," was all I could meekly utter, in the confines of the officer's protective grasp.

"What happened here?" the officer asked. "We got a call from the neighbors saying there were loud screams and what seemed like violence going on over here. Are you alone?"

By this time the other three officers were coming back from their search of a completely empty house, replacing their weapons in their holsters.

"Ummm. Yeah, I'm alone," I uttered, my face reddened with fear and embarassment.

"I'm sorry. Everything's fine." I said. "I was just watching the Celtics game."

My face contorted into a meek, sort of coquettish grin as I said that.

Complete silence. For a good five seconds, which seemed like a lifetime because all I remember was the sound of the excessive pounding of my heart .

The sounds of uproarious laughter, which broke the silence, much to my relief, then filled the room and after a few moments, the cops started high fiving me and playfully patting me on the back.

"You'd better go tell your neighbor you are ok. She thought there was a murder taking place over here," a cop said.

"Ohh, this is good. I can't wait to tell the chief this one," another cop said.

"Hey, did they win? HAHAHA!!"

They all seemed to be having a good laugh at my expense. I didn't care. I was just grateful that I wasn't in any kind of trouble. Being 15 at the time, anything that involves the cops and no trouble was always a good thing. They then left my house, warning me to lock the door behind them and go to bed!

The funny thing is that the cops never forgot that night. I spent the next few years known, in my small town as "Celtics Fan" a title I wore proudly. They always cut me and my friends a little more slack at football games and home town events than the other kids. I guess the infamy I gained because of that evening served me well. My neighbor never quite got over it though. For a long while after the incident, she would shutter when she saw me. She probably still thinks I'm some sort of serial killer.

Robo Christmas Cop

I know I promised a short post today (so I lied), and I will try to condense this story as much as possible cuz it's a good one.

Last year at this time, I bought My Guy a 36" plasma TV for his new home office as his Christmas gift. As you may have read in a previous post here, I ended up getting him something better (the artist finished it before Xmas), so I needed to return the TV to the Costco Wholesale Warehouse I bought it at. The TV was big, and heavy, so it took myself and my wife (she is my cleaning girl and I call her my wife with all the love and respect that term implies) a great deal of effort to get it into my SUV. I drive over to Costco and when I get there, of course, there is NO parking. So I drive up to the main entrance, remembering that when I purchased the TV, I was able to pull right up to the front and get some assistance loading it into the car.

Let me now just give you the visuals so you can get a mental picture: Think horizontal. One horizontal being the front entrance, the other horizontal (about 30 yards directly in front of the entrance) being at least 10 EMPTY handicap parking spaces lining the front.

As I am pulling up to the front I notice an employee standing outside smoking a cigarette. Since I can't stop here and block the flow of traffic building up behind me (remember I have the entrance on one side and row of EMPTY handicap parking on the other and not much room in between), I pull into the first handicap space, leave my car running, and get out to walk the 10 yards or so to ask the smoking employee how I would go about getting some help with the huge TV. She tells me NOT to park there because I will most certainly get a ticket, but to back it out and pull up to the front so she can call another employee to come with a dolly to assist me.
OK, the whole exchange took about 10 seconds and I have not walked more than 5 yards away from my car, which is of course, still running. Right? So I get back into my car and as I am about to pull out of the space, I see a police cruiser come flying up behind me, skidding to a halt directly behind my car. Not good.

It must have been my lucky day because none other than Robo Cop, fully flanked from head to toe in black riot fatigues with a black sniper hat on his head, steps out of the cruiser. He approaches my vehicle and I roll the window down to explain what is taking place.

Before I can even utter a word, Robo Cop, who is now red faced, snarls from his teeth, "License and registration." This is how the exchange goes:

ME: Officer, I have a huge TV in the back and I was just ask....
ROBO:(face getting redder, still snarling through his bared teeth) I SAID license and registration. You are in violation parked in a handicapped space. License and registration Ma'am.(he is now swaying back and forth on his feet)
ME: (fumbling for my license and reg) Officer, can I just explain? You see I was trying to get some hel...
ROBO: Unless you have a handicap placard hanging from your rear view mirror, which I don't see, you are in VIOLATION, so there is nothing to explain.
ME: I was asking that employee over there the best way to get some help with the large TV in the back of my car.
ROBO: (yelling to the employee who is still standing there) I CAN'T DO MY JOB BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU. YOU CAN'T TELL SHOPPERS TO PARK HERE....
ME: (interrupting him this time) She didn't tell me to park here. In fact she told me not to park here. I left my car running and was asking her about some help.
ROBO: (holding his black, gloved hand, up to the employee) Sorry Ma'am. (now to me) You are in VIOLATION. (spitting) Now, I'm going to ask you one more time; LICENSE and REGISTRATION!
ME: (handing it to him thinking to myself, "keep your cool Candy". The whole "batting my eyelashes" thing is now out the window because Robo here is way too jacked for a big bust) Officer, can I get out of my car and show you the enormous box in the back?
ROBO: You can do whatever you want, still doesn't change the fact that you are in VIOLATION!

Don't ask me why, but I get out of my car and go to the back of my car to show him the big box.

ME: See, this is far too big for me to get it inside by myself. I didn't even turn off my car. I never intended to park here. I pulled in so I wouldn't block traffic and I was just asking for some help. I never even walked more than 5 yards away from running my car.
ROBO: (No reply. Still rocking back and forth on his feet staring at my license)
ME: (waiting a good 10-15 seconds in silence) No Christmas spirit, huh?

Robo then walks over to the cruiser and gets in. I get back into my car and sit and wait. After about 5 minutes, Robo pulls the cruiser up a whole 2 feet and comes over to my open window.

ROBO: Ma'am, move your car immediately to the front of the store.
ME: I can't, your cruiser is too close. Can you move it up a little more?

Robo makes no reply but walks over to the back side of the cruiser and stands with his arms folded. I now know there is no way I am not getting a ticket for the VIOLATION and that Robo is going to bust my balls to the fullest extent, so I move my car. It took about a 25 point turn to get my SUV out of the handicap space because, I swear to you, Robo hardly moved the cruiser up enough for me to get out AND he stood there, arms folded, red faced, watching me. At one point, while making the 25 point turn, I said to him through my open window, "officer if your going to stand there your going to have to forgive me if I run over your foot".

I get the car to the front and he gets back into the cruiser. I get out and stand there thinking about what to say to this complete DICK without getting into trouble. He comes out and hands me the $100.00 ticket. I take the ticket but not without saying to him (and it's all I could think of at that moment):
ME: Officer you have been EXTERMELY rude and I hope that Santa brings you COAL in your stocking!
He turns and walks away. End of story right?? No-I must have been a very good girl last year because I got my revenge on Robo-jacked up on ROID rage-Cop in two great ways.

The first: After all the hub bub, an employee came out to help me immediately. We get the TV out of the car and I go park LEGALLY, then get into the retun line at the front of the store. Well who works at the return desk? None other than Smoking Employee. When she sees me she comes right over to me to say that the cops behavior was completely out of line and unnecessary. She tells me that she was all shook up from him yelling at her and I tell her that my heart is still pounding and my adrenaline pumping from the entire exchange. While we are talking, I look up and see Robo Cop coming around the corner. I couldn't help myself but to glare at him and he matched my glare, our eyes locked in a predatory stare. As he walks in my direction, he has the BALLS to smile a snarky grin at me. I look right at him as he is passing me and say loud enough for all the people in line to hear, "Merry Christmas," and just as he goes by me, out of my eyesight I then say, "RAMBO".

Oh yeah, that felt way too good!! Even though I got him verbally, he still got me because I was the one with the $100.00 ticket in hand. But not for long!!!HAHAHAHAHA!

The Second: I called My Guy immediately who knows all cops in that town because he grew up with them and lucky for me, Robo's boss is My Guys good friend. I was able to rip up the ticket and can you believe Robo told his boss that I WAS MEAN! HA! All I have to say to him if he is reading this is, "Dude, get off the roids and Merry Christmas douchebag!"