It's a curious thing, how the night brings out the promiscuity in beings; innocence accompanies the sun as it sets. An atrocious day filled with disappointments vanishes, and what is left is an eagerness to explore and experience. On one of those summer nights, I had no idea that I would be exploring and experiencing the back of a cop car. The journey leading up to my newfound intimate relationship with the leather in the back seat of this cop car began with a series of disappointments, each one intensifying my furiousness. With the night came my freedom, and now knowing where I would end up, perhaps I got overwhelmed with this freedom.
Like I said, the night, with welcoming arms, embraces promiscuity, and I certainly did that summer night, starting with just driving through darkness, vapor curling around the headlights.
"Are we driving somewhere in particular?" my partner inquired.
"Anywhere," I told him. It was the shortest journey to "anywhere" that I had ever taken, just a mere quick right, continue straight, left, and another quick right.
"I say 'anywhere,' and you think the children's park?" I asked him.
"It is anywhere, and I drove. If you had other ideas, you should have driven," he retorted. "Besides, how much trouble can we get into at a children's park?"
Oh the irony.
There, then, in that van, we fancied ourselves tortured souls, reveling in each other's company, not thinking to find something more private. To us, a vacant children's park was private. Whoever "they" are always says, "Two is a party. Three is a crowd." Before that night, I had never given that sentiment much thought, but I found it incredibly accurate as my partner and I proceeded with our unmentionables to find ourselves blinded with white light.
"Is this the white light everyone sees when they die and go to heaven?" he asked.
"You're close," I responded, "but this won't be heaven." I paused. "This is hell." Just as the words had finished leaving my mouth, the van door was being yanked open to reveal a young police officer blinding us with a flashlight.
"Ma'am," he said. "I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle." So, without bothering to grab my jacket or shoes, I hopped out of "the vehicle" and followed him to his cop car to answer a series of questions while my partner anxiously waited in "the vehicle."
"What's your full name?"
"What's your date of birth?"
"How old are you?"
"What's your address?"
"How long have you been living there?"
I found quick relief as he entered my information into his police scanner, only to continue playing twenty questions.
"Do you know his address?"
"What's his name?"
"How old is he?"
"How long have you two known each other?"
"How did you meet?"
"Who does this vehicle belong to?"
Then came the more interesting questions.
"Did you enter this vehicle of your own free will?"
"Did he injure you?"
"Did he threaten you to enter this vehicle?"
"Did he threaten you in any way?"
And then came my favorite question, with my winning answer.
"What exactly were you two doing in the vehicle?"
"Um," I said. "Knockin' boots." My answer broke his professional façade. The police officer paused in questioning me to turn and laugh. And laugh. And laugh. Apparently, when police officers bust teenagers for unmentionables, they do not commonly come across "knockin' boots," as an answer.
Here "they" are again, with seemingly more insight to my life than I have. "They" always say that if you can make a cop laugh, it will save your life. I would like to take this moment in time to pause and thank my former self for being too shocked to present a remorseful answer and instead reveal her hilarity. Former self, I thank you.
After the kindly police officer regained his composure, he said, "Walk this way," and lead me back to the scene of the crime—"the vehicle."
"Sir," the police officer said. "You can step out of the vehicle now." So my partner stepped out of the vehicle. We stood two feet apart, not wanting to get into trouble for standing too close, and listened to the police officer's speech.
"So you, sir, are not going to get into any trouble with me because she is of legal consenting age, although you are older than her, so there will come a time when you could run into trouble with the law again. For tonight regarding this particular issue, you're fine. FOR TONIGHT. Moving on. What was going on in that vehicle, should not be done in a children's park. For that, I could press charges. However, she seems like a good kid, and so do you, so I'm not going to press charges. But with that being said, I still have to drive her home. So ma'am, it's time for you to come with me." Riding home in a cop car took up all the space in my mind, so I was about to get in before I said,
"Wait. Can I get my bag and jacket? And shoes?"
"Oh. Yeah, get your personal belongings," the police officer said. After a quick goodbye to my partner, I climbed into the back of the police officer's car. The drive back to my house was mostly silent as I watched the police officer diligently continue his job, no doubt hoping to pick up another kid for being out after dark. He pulled into my driveway, and I was still about to make curfew. I sat waiting for him to open the door for me since the back doors can't open from the inside, thinking I dodged a real bullet, only to hear him say,
"And you have to wake at least one parent so I can brief them on the events that transpired tonight," that evil police officer sneered at me.
THE END
(of my life)