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Wayward Urine Sample

2002-04-21 - 11:55 p.m.

Ok. Where where where to begin. . .Oh yes, the middle. The beginning of the middle. Here we go:

The MIDDLE: So I got back from Boston Saturday afternoon and decided to clean my room and do laundry (a decision influenced by the fact that the apartment was gleamingly clean due to Ben's {probable} 11th time cleaning it that weekend). So I decided to start doing laundry. Ben had made Butterfinger Brownies (not to be confused with Blueberry Buckle) and let them cool on the kitchen counter but told me we had to save them for later and I couldn't have any until they cooled. It was Spring Fling this weekend, although the University had renamed it Festivus in the hopes that a.) students wouldn't get as rowdy as they did when it was named Spring Fling and that b.) the students would be so overcome with the cleverosity that the Event Planning Comittee displayed by naming a function after a Seinfeld plot-point that they would stay home and quietly watch Wonder Years reruns on Fox Family. Wanting to get a jump on the festivities, Ben and Rich joined Jeff on campus in the afternoon, but I had to finish my laundry so I told them I'd meet up with them later. If only I had continued doing laundry all night. Ben called from campus to say it was getting colder and could I bring his jacket on campus with me when I came on. Sure, no problem. As I was leaving to catch the bus to campus Peter called. I told him I couldn't talk as I was on my way out the door. If only I had just stayed there and talked to Peter.

So I arrive at the Ghettos, Ben's jacket in tow, and can't find them anywhere. I try calling him on my cell and get no answer. I leave a message politely saying: "Where the fuck are you guys? I have your jacket and I'm wandering aound the Ghettos." I get no call back and annoyed even more call him back again. He answers. "Did you get my message about where we are?" he asks me. "Do you see me there?" I retort. "You're here?!" he asked increduously. "No fuckass, I'm at the GHETTOS, where are YOU?" "Oh, we're at Libby's playing pool. Come here." [Just the beginning of cell phone hijinxery] So I went to the new and improved Libby's. It was my first time going to Libby's since it had been rebuilt after the fire that destroyed it in May 2000.

New Libby's is nice. Too nice in my opinion. At least in comparison to Old Rotting Dank Scandalous "Be Good or Be Gone" Libby's. I feel bad for those UNH kids who never got to see it in its glory. Anyway, I met Jeff, Rich, and Ben in the back of Libby's so I could sit on a stool and watch them play pool. But, a potential crisis was averted and Ben got his jacket. There were a TON of people there my parents age or older (yes, EVEN older!) who needless to say, would not have been caught dead or even dying in the cess pool that was old Libby's. Jeff complained that his cell phone reception in Durham was pretty bad, but I told him he shouldn't feel bad, because I thought his cell phone was so black and sleek that it MORE than made up for the crappy service. One thing I couldn't find a silver lining for was when we discovered that over at Table 43, Sarah (formerly of "Ben & Sarah") and all her sorority sisters had taken up camp. So Ben made quick small talk with her, I informed her (in best attempts to mindfuck her) that if I didn't see her beforehand to "have a happy Mother's Day". Ben chatted it up with some other girls at Libby's shiny new bar, while Rich, Jeff, and I went to Camp Co to get some beer. Jeff suggested (jokingly) that we sneak into the beer coolers at Camp Co like he and Ben did lo those many years ago, but that plan was quickly quashed when we saw that Camp Co no longer HAS any beer. So, you know, that sucked. At least they FINALLY took down that picture of me from Halloween 2000. So we went to Store 24. Ben was still at Libby's.

Store 24 was PACKED. I hadn't seen it that packed since the time I was trying to steal Mac and Cheese with Coty and I drunkenly lost my balance and fell on the floor. Anyway, it was packed. Rich and Jeff stayed there to get beer and I said I'd go find Ben and tell him where we were. I tried calling him on my cell as I was leaving the store. My phone told me "Call Failed - # Not Valid". Damn cell phones. Due to being so involved with the devlish machinations of my cell phone I didn't see the police officer by the door and ran right into him. He was gruff and was not pleased I ran into him (which I can't really blame him). He naturally assumed I was drunk, which despite the TWO beers I had at Libby's I most certainly was not. Either way, I should have taken that as an omen and just gone straight home. Nope, I went to find Ben. . .

[ALERT: BAD OMEN! BAD OMEN!]

So I found Ben, wandering outside of Camp Co talking to some weird hippie kid. I snuck up behind him and scared him. He didn't have the hiccups, but if he had, it probably wouldn't of cured them. I asked him who the kid was. He said he didn't know, but the kid clearly knew him. I explained to him that Jeff and Rich were at Store 24 and that I didn't exactly want to go back there, as I was scared Sipowicz would get me. So we went to Scorpio's to get beer instead. Ben and I had a scary moment there when we realized we were probably the only two kids in line with a birthday during the Carter Administration. He cried. I sulked. We went outside and found Jeff and Rich talking to a freshly shorn Todd and then we (sans Todd) left for the Ghettos.

When we got there it was absolutely trashed. There were people playing Beirut on several different tables, one of which was a door ripped off its hinges and balancing on two sawhorses. There were glass bottles being hurled through the air in a style I hadn't seen since the infamous bottle throwing incident that I got involved in (fighting the Pod People on tape mind you) at 38 Young Drive two Springs beforehand. In other words, it was a typical Ghettos scene. The four of us walked into Mike's (Jeff's brother) place and were quickly greeted by blaring Michael Jackson and the appearance of one half of the Montreal Panic Room. That's right Mike and Adam "House of" Paine. SO that was . . . different. Assorted Cranes and Sevins were also accounted for. As I was leaving to go outside to check out the Beirut Waiting List I ran smack dab into All-Star. He snidely pointed out that he wasn't surprised to see me there since the people who lived there were MY "Laconia Peeps". I quickly corrected Alex that the people there, while "Laconia Peeps", were not MY LACONIA PEEPS. He scoffed at my distinction and I told him I took back the radio dedication I made to him. With All-Star thoroughly confused, I went outside. Ben joined me soon after and then Ben and Rich began playing Beirut. It was close. . .but they lost. Just then, a bunch of Bike Cops showed up and flashlights were being flashed in a very flashy way. They were barking "IF YOU DON'T LIVE HERE, THEN LEAVE!" over and over and over. Jeeze, put a Badge on a BMX and they think they can go busting up any soiree they come upon. So, since they APPARENTLY had no problem believing that EVERYONE present lived there, they just watched as people crammed inside the apartments (mostly so those under 21 wouldn't get busted). UNFORTUNATELY, Ben had already started to leave (in full view of the Cops) and I was going to leave too until Ben realized he forgot his jacket inside. At this point I was contemplating stapling the god damned thing to him. So he started to go back to get it. "YOU!" one of the Barky McBuzzKills yelled "you already left, so you obviously don't live here, SO GET OUT." "I forgot my jacket inside!" belligerent Ben yelled back. "One Minute." Barky tersely barked back. So then jackass me yelled out: "Uh-Oh Ben, better hurry! 60 seconds starting . . .NOW! 1, 2, 3 . . ." to which Barky responded with an actual countdown to fix my wagon. Well, consider my wagon fixed.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 . . ."

So Ben, Rich and I went over to Woodman and played Beirut on this gigantic Beirut table that not even *I* could get accused of leaning with. SO we played with this kid from Princeton, whose name escapes me, so I'll call him Princey. Anyway, Princey told us that he's good friends with Djorje, Real World: Chicago Kyle's friend. And, well, I'm gonna censor myself a bit here, but he informed us about some of Cara's bedroom proclivities in a way that left NOTHING to the imagination. It was muddy there, so we went back to the Ghettos, assuming the cops would be gone. They were. So that was good. We went in for a bit. I'm not too sure on all the chronology here, but I know Rich disappeared right about here and Jeff left with Amy to go back to Portsmouth (I think). I was informed the next day by Ben that Rich had left at that point to go to meet Todd at Beta. Anyway, Ben and I heard from some people at the Ghettos that people were meeting up at Libby's. So we left for Libby's. I was almost out of beer so Libby's didn't seem like a very bad idea. Well guess what? It was.

We snuck through that muddy river short cut (not to be confused with the smoke house of the same name) behind the sororities and Sigma Nu. I was finishing up my beer as we cut through the volleyball court at Zeta Ki (or is it Xi? or Chi? I'm glad I don't know). As we went over the bridge towards the back side of the Tin Palace I thought I should probably throw my beer in the river since I couldn't very well be seen with it on Main Street. Then I thought I shouldn't litter in the water and instead would litter in the parking lot. Ben tells me now that he actually saw the cops at this point but he didn't even know I had an open beer so didn't say any words of warning. The next thing I know, there are bike cops on either side of me. They tell me to drop the bottle and put my hands behind my back. Ben looks at me and says "That sucks." And I looked back and said "Yup."

So they emptied my pockets and asked if I had any weapons with which I could cut them. I said "No." They said "Then what are these?" And I said "Nail Clippers." Then they put what little beer that was left in my OPEN CONTAINER and put it in a sample jar and labeled it evidence. I DID NOT SEE THEM DO THIS as I was too busy getting handcuffed by their unusually sharp plastic handcuffs. When I saw the sample jar I asked what it was. They said it was a urine sample they found in my pocket. I said "I didn't have any urine samples in my pocket!" Then they all laughed and laughed and in general had a big laugh. HA HA MOTHERFUCKING HA. At this point Ben said "Well, there's not much I can really do here. I'll have a beer at Libby's for you ok?" I said OK. And he left. The Police Van showed up and I hopped in and tried to very awkwardly sit with my hands behind my back. Before we left the Bike Cops told the two Van Cops about how they *CONVINCED* me that I was found with a Urine Sample in my pocket. The Van Cops found this just as funny, if not moreso, than the Bike Cops. I can only imagine how the Horse Cops must have reacted when the Bike Cops told them later. SO I was the only one in the Van besides Dumb and Fatter. They informed me that since they had just come from "dropping a shipment of kids off" to the jail, they'd have to drive around with me until they filled back up. Oh, just su-fuckin'-per.

So I met some new friends. Eric, Shawn, David, Josh, and Mike were the names of my new friends. We met Eric when we picked him up at the Greens. Eric said to me when he got thrown in the van "Nice to meet ya, I'd shake your hand, but well, I can't." My new friend Eric said this to EVERY SINGLE person that came into the van. He also said "The way I look at this is - it's an adventure! So let's have fun!" This reasoning worked on me, but some of our other new friends didn't like that reasoning. Eric would try to cheer them up by continually saying "Nice to meet ya, I'd shake your hand, but well, I can't." This didn't seem to help. Also, every time someone new would come in Dumb and Fatter would recount the HI-larious tale they entitled "Mr. Foote and the Wayward Urine Sample". Sounds like something we should sell at the Wallakers. Or at least Spaulding Book and Video. I fought the story each time, except near the end, I just decided to piss them off and ruin their story by jumping to the end of it and telling one of my new friends the BIG PUNCHLINE "I didn't have any urine samples in my pocket!". Dumb and Fatter didn't like that. They also didn't like when, after picking up Mike, our sixth and final friend I yelled out "Yahtzee!" SO then we drove down Rt. 108 and got to the jail. I told them as we were pulling up that it would be a lot more convenient if the jail was on Rt. 155 or if I still lived on Rt. 4. They weren't talking to me anymore at this point. They stopped the van and led us into jail.

Once in there, we had to wait in line while all the other detainees that were there before us got their mug shots taken and all their valubles (that had been stripped off them previously) given back in a plastic bag with their name on it in big black permanent marker. I could hear a kid from inside another room scream that he was going to file charges on the police because the handcuffs made him bleed and they refused him a band-aid. They made us all wait in one area before we went into the "mug shot" room.

Then we had our handcuffs clipped, and were led into the mugshot room. The mugshot room was a lot smaller and had one L-shaped blue bench in it. The bench had a pole attached to it. They handcuffed us with the good old-fashioned metal handcuffs to the pole to make sure we didn't make a break for it. "A break for it" through like 15 cops and 3 locked doors. Argh. I saw my "valubles", specifically my cell phone, on the table and asked this woman who was running around yelling things if she could shut it off for me. She said "I'm sorry sir, that's what we call 'tampering with the evidence'." I said "It's not evidence, it's my phone, and I'm gonna need it to not be dead when I get out of here. Please?!" "Sorry sir, that's what we call 'tampering with evidence'." As I was waiting for my Mug Shot turn I spotted an officer with a Laconia badge on. I so badly wanted to just say to him: "You know, I managed to elude you wily bastards for over 23 years from everything to drinking rum in the woods on the boulevard at 15 yrs. old, to looting and pillaging Lakeport, to escaping a "bear attack" at the O'Shea's and hiding in the woods with Vinny, to HIDING FUCKING UNDER WATER IN LAKE WINNISQUAM so you wouldn't catch me and I finally get done in by some podunk Durham Bike Cops at TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD FOR AN OPEN CONTAINER?!?!" But something told me that wouldn't help my situation. After I got my mug shot, (which is SO not what TV or Jim Morrison would have you think it's like, they didn't even TAKE A SIDE-WAYS SHOT!) I was led into a smaller room and had to sit at some table with this old guy I'll call Stan.

He had me sign some documents. They pretty much said I had to pay them $90 by the end of May. Then he made me pay him $30 bail. Then he gave me back my wallet, nail clippers, my cell phone and other various and sundry items in a big plastic bag with my name on it. I asked for a copy of my mug shot. They wouldn't give me one. I asked again. They frustratingly told me that if I REALLY wanted it I could come by Monday morning and get a copy. You god damned BET I want a copy!

I left the jail and started walking down Rt. 108 and back towards civilization. I hitched. Unlike Coty and Jeff, who can look at a car hard enough and get it to stop and pick them up, NO ONE stopped for me. I tried calling Ben on my cell phone to find out where he was, but of course, it was dead. I ended up at Carley's, at the Red Barn. She wasn't home. But her roommate, Kristen, was. Or should I say Saint Kristen. Since she demanded she give me a ride home and wouldn't let me walk the 2+ hours home. She is my hero. I don't care WHAT Enrique Iglasias says.

Whilst all this was transpiring, unbeknownst to me Ben was having a time of it himself at Libby's. He ran into one of the many birthday boys there. (The very same birthday boy I pitied for sharing his big day with the Columbine Anniversary) That's right, back from the Coast and looking in vain to sweat up Libby's dance floor old skool: David T. Marshall. Ben said some people at Libby's were surprisingly cool to him and talked to him (we'll call this sample group the "Fej & Marshall" group) and he said some were surprisingly uncool to him (we'll call this group the "I'm still waiting for you to come back to my birthday party" group.) Ben eventually ambled to Carley's, and having no idea I was there a few hours before slept on the couch there and got up at 8 and drove home.

When I got home I called Ricky and told him I had an adventure in the pokey minutes before. He said he was tired and had to go to bed. Remind me who NOT to call next time I have a funny pokey-related story. . .Before bed I decided to throw all caution to the wind and eat Ben's Butterfinger Brownies with a Big Glass of Milk. Mmmmmm, brownies and milk. I slept late Sunday morning and got up and watched the Celtics and the Red Sox win. And then I got the Hiccups. The END OF THE MIDDLE.

It's been real,

Inmate #082878

ps - The best part? I get to get up early tomorrow and do my Chinatown presentation. AGAIN. Argh.

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