There has been a groundswell of interest in my post from the morning of 03/27. I received some intriguing responses concerning what you would do in such a situation. My favorite response was from Mr. Pickles since it most paralleled what I wanted to do: "I'd rip out my throat and let that fucking pig deal with the mess." [clapping]
So what did I do? I was on the verge of panic when I finally comprehended my situation and thought about throwing my unit into drive and bolting. I'm glad I didn't though since I'd probably still be in jail if I had. The cop walked up to my window and asked "now, which one did you say it was?", I summoned the most sober expression I could, and just raised my finger and pointed in the general direction of the 3 people on the ground. "That one," I said. "Right, right," replied the cop, "blah blah blah blah blah." He was speaking to me but I wasn't listening or couldn't understand. There was only an all consuming, gnawing desire to escape. I waited for what seemed to me an appropriate amount of time before interrupting the cop and asking, "so…can I go?" It was the wrong question to ask; the cop backed up from my window and gave me a Larry David-esque stare down. "So the jig is up", I thought and just as I was about to get out of my unit and jump in the back seat of one of the police cars the cop smiled at me and said, "yea, you've stuck around long enough we can handle the rest." I'm not sure if I laughed in his face or not but I got the fuck out of there before he had a chance to say another word. Sweet, sweet adrenaline you alone kept me out of jail.
I am still intrigued as to what the fuck I was doing at the Fiesta and intend to request some information form the City of Houston Police department about any charges dropped in the area of town I was in that night to try and get to the bottom of this mess. There are few doubts in my mind that this was somehow orchestrated by a faction of the Marry Lou Retton camp.
So what did I do? I was on the verge of panic when I finally comprehended my situation and thought about throwing my unit into drive and bolting. I'm glad I didn't though since I'd probably still be in jail if I had. The cop walked up to my window and asked "now, which one did you say it was?", I summoned the most sober expression I could, and just raised my finger and pointed in the general direction of the 3 people on the ground. "That one," I said. "Right, right," replied the cop, "blah blah blah blah blah." He was speaking to me but I wasn't listening or couldn't understand. There was only an all consuming, gnawing desire to escape. I waited for what seemed to me an appropriate amount of time before interrupting the cop and asking, "so…can I go?" It was the wrong question to ask; the cop backed up from my window and gave me a Larry David-esque stare down. "So the jig is up", I thought and just as I was about to get out of my unit and jump in the back seat of one of the police cars the cop smiled at me and said, "yea, you've stuck around long enough we can handle the rest." I'm not sure if I laughed in his face or not but I got the fuck out of there before he had a chance to say another word. Sweet, sweet adrenaline you alone kept me out of jail.
I am still intrigued as to what the fuck I was doing at the Fiesta and intend to request some information form the City of Houston Police department about any charges dropped in the area of town I was in that night to try and get to the bottom of this mess. There are few doubts in my mind that this was somehow orchestrated by a faction of the Marry Lou Retton camp.
