Monday, April 29, 2002

I was actually looking for a different picture, from 1974, but this one from 1977 is a decent enough diversion. Many many many years ago, I was arrested by the Chicago Police. It was the typical scenario with my parents, most notably my father. When he came to the precinct to pick me up, he screamed and yelled at the cops for treating his son so poorly (one of my hands was handcuffed to the wall); but once we got in the car, he screamed and yelled at me. Once we got home, after a quick family meeting about my arrest, and troubles my older brothers had with the local cops, my parents went upstairs to yell at each other about how each was responsible. Meanwhile, my four siblings and I went to the basement to do bong hits while I gave them all the details of my marijuana arrest. Undercover cops grabbed me when I was going to a friend's house, asked me a bunch of questions, confused me with one of my older brothers who was always drinking beer in the local park, searched me, found some skinny joints, and shoved me in the back seat of their car. Some hours later, in a cell, I found a small roach (for you non-druggies, that's the small remnant of a joint that us hardcore addicts save in case of emergency) in my pocket, and lit up in the cell. No buzz, but it made the "real" criminals laugh. Ahhhhhh, youth! (looking at the picture, it's funny to see how the glare seems to form this "D" on my forehead - "druggie"? "derelict"?)