This one goes back to around two years ago in the fall. I was laying down some of my
patented blistering guitar godsmanship at
a studio in the ATL. I had ridden my mountain bike to the gig and was leaving around 2AM. As I peddled up the street when I could see that
a quarter mile up the hill the cops had
a DUI checkpoint set up. For once, I didn’t have any drugs on me and I was sober, so I figured rather than getting cased up scurrying off on one of the side streets into the clutches of that one car that is always hidden, it would be better to just ride through. I mean, they probably won’t even mess with me –
I’M ON A FUCKING BIKE — RIGHT?
“Let me see your ID and get off the bike.” the Officer Zucchini asks.
So I put the bike down and sit on the curb while he runs my ID.
He comes back, “Did you know that you need to have a light when you ride that thing at night?”
“No, I didn’t know that, sir.”
He gets back in his car and starts writing me a ticket.
“Are you really writing me a ticket for that?” I ask.
“Yes, I am. You’re lucky – I could haul you in for this. You’re lucky bud, you’re getting’ to go home tonight.”
OK, whatever…
A few nights later, I decided to ride my bike to grab a slice of pizza. Being the rebel I am, I still hadn’t got my light. I peddle into the parking lot of the pizza place and there a cop car sitting there.
From out of it I hear someone yell, “Hey boy, you know that you need to have a light when you ride at night, right?”
I didn’t even get through saying “no officer, I didn’t know that was a law…” when I realized that it was the same cop from the other night. Whoops!
You would think in a town more than its share of murders, rapes, aggravated robberies, burglaries, aggravated assaults, arsons, carjacking, and aggravated attempts at aggravation by repeat aggravators that the cops would have more to do. This shit was retarded. I do fancy myself as an excellent armchair / jailhouse lawyer, so I knew if I took this thing to court I could get it thrown out for sure. Both tickets from my crime spree were issued so close together that I had the same court date – now, I had to go.
The night before court, I ripped a page straight out of “Jay’s Big Book of Lies” when I was coerced into going out for “a drink”. As you know, one drink turned into another drink and then 100 bucks transformed into a big bag of blow — the next thing I know I am sitting there yapping and drinking beer over a pile of weasel dust at my coffee table. My court is at 8:30 AM, so around 7:47 AM I decided that I’d better take a quick nap. I set my alarm, put one foot in the bed, and am about to put the other leg in when the alarm goes off. I walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth – just as soon as the toothpaste hits my mouth I find myself blowing up chunks into the sink.
Then it dawned on me…
I WAS TOO DRUNK TO DRIVE TO COURT!
I called a cab, it got me there just in time, I walked into traffic court, and my case is the first one called. Now, keep in mind that I am still as blasted as Robert Downey Jr. on New Years Eve with puke still hanging off my shirt, coke buggers dangling from my nose hairs, and slurring my words as I approached the bench.
The judge asks, “Mr. Quinlan, look like we have here two riding a bicycle at night without a headlight violations…”
I hold up my light for the bike and turn it in the middle of the courtroom as I slur, “Your honor, I have a light now. The neighborhood is safe.”
Believe it or not, he dismissed the tickets. Had a criminal like me be set free on a technicality on was is this just more proof that crime pays?
Either way, the neighborhood could sleep safe that night.
Peas,
Jay
