The NYPD and Me

Yes, I had a little run-in with New York’s finest. But I’ll get to that in a little bit. The first part of the weekend deserves some attention. Dancing Fun. On Friday, Jessamyn and I hit this place called Meow Mix. I hear it’s the bar that some of the action in the lesbian-turned-straight-girl movie, Chasing Amy, took place. There was a band playing, which was ok. I'm not big on live music. But it was tolerable. And that’s a generous description:

<li>The crowd got excited over an instrumental rock version of Michael Jackson's hit "Beat It."</li>
<li>I drank a Sierra Nevada out of a plastic cup. I felt like I was at <a href="http://calinative.blogspot.com/archives/%E2%80%9Dhttp://www.facesnightclub.com/recap.asp%E2%80%9D">Faces’</a> version of a post-pride after party. I can accept beer in a plastic cup at times like these.</li>
<li>The bathroom door had a hole where the doorknob was supposed to be. I didn’t realize women were subjected to such things as bootleg glory holes.</li>
<li>I touched a hot pipe, which was sitting right out there for people like me to burn themselves on. Luckily, I didn't burn myself; I just touched it long enough to get the feeling that I should let go.</li>
<li>There was this strange lady who looked at Jessamyn and me and wondered why we weren't dancing to a particular song (it was a P. Diddy song; I try to avoid dancing to Mr. Diddy). And she was wearing a hideous sweater and had a bad 80s perm. Don’t ask me why I’m not dancing if you have a bad 80s perm.</li>
<li>All in all, it wasn't too bad. Contrary to popular belief, I danced. It was fun. After this, we went to another bar whose name appeared nowhere on anything. There was nothing really exciting about that. After this place, we headed to the F train uptown. Only the F train wasn't going uptown that night. So we took cabs. <!--more--> Conny's sister is visiting from Germany for two weeks. So she decided to have a dinner for her and invited Katharina and me. I finally arrived 45 minutes late (the trains, the trains, the trains) and we promptly ate a vegetable, noodle curry concoction. Conny is a very good cook. Then, the Germans tried to convince me that cooked wine is good. I tried. I really did. Rashad, Conny's new roommate, wasn't into it either. There are just some things one shouldn't do to red wine. After dinner, Conny wanted to go down to the water. She mentioned this on the phone to me earlier in the day. Because I’ve been down to that particular part of the water, I wasn’t all that excited about it. But, I went because everyone else did. And because she lives about five minutes from the bank of the East River, it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. So off we went: Conny, her sister, Rashan, Katharina, and me. When we got there, we all stepped over the guardrail so we could hang our feet off the edge. As I prepared to sit down on the wood — testing it to see if it would hold me — I was imagining what would happen if I were to fall in. Katharina also was planning: she asked if I'd jump in after her to save her. So as we were all getting comfortable on our respective garbage bags/splinter guards, a Saturn pulled up. I think it was a Saturn. Then I heard this pathetic attempt at a siren. After the car stopped. I can just see the NYPD handbook:</li>
<li></li>

"When approaching a potential suspect, sound the siren to enforce your power." Rashan and I looked at each other, because we picked up on it first. A blonde man stepped out of the weenie car with a badge around his neck and a pad in his hand. He asks us for our IDs. I ask to whomever will answer if this was illegal what we were doing. There was a sign there but none of us had looked at it. And we certainly weren’t moving now with such a menacing officer in our midst prepared to knock us all on our asses at any moment. He finally says in a thick Brooklyn accent, “yeah, yuh nawt s’posed to be ‘round ‘da watuh.” (That’s the best dialect I can do).

Around the water. I can understand this, especially since I had not three minutes earlier imagined my unfortunate descent to the shore. Ok, so it’s dangerous. Did they have to take our IDs? This guy goes back to the car, leaving us standing there wondering what exactly it is about looking at the water that’s illegal. At first, I was amused. This big bad man (who would later come to be known as Bad Cop) imposing power over five people who just wanted to chill by the water. And he got out of a Saturn. And he wasn’t even in uniform. They were undercover.

Then I started thinking about NYPD Blue and Law and Order. There must have been some hookers, drug dealers, or gun-wielding teens somewhere in the city that could have used some attention. Then after about 20 or 25 minutes – in about 30-degree temperatures – another car pulled up. It could have been another Saturn. Maybe it was a Pontiac. Now I’m getting pissed. They’re holding us because they’re “protecting” us. Tell us that people die this way, and move on. Fight crime. Let us go. Out of the passenger side of this car comes a rather large woman with a lot of hair pulled back into an unfortunate ponytail. She goes to the other car to discuss us, or the ribs she had for dinner (one or the other), and then gets back in the car. Meanwhile, we’re standing there, I’m getting more pissed and I start talking louder. I said something about the size of their penises. Katharina had to contain my volume. She came over and stood by me and I started to talk about the sign. Did it, indeed, say we were not allowed to life our legs over the guardrail to have a seat by the river? She looked. It said nothing of the sort.

So, we’re now being held for no reason. Nowhere does it say anything about the legal ramifications of our actions. But we continued standing. Conny and Katharina began thinking about the papers that they’re supposed to be carrying around with them all the time. They weren’t. Conny was fretting about the ticket for littering she still hadn’t paid. And overall, we’re just getting more annoyed. Then, Unfortunate Ponytail came up and asked for the Germans’ addresses and birth dates. Conny and Katharina had given them their New School IDs, so they needed more information. Just then, the other guy (who would later come to be known as Good Cop) got out of the car and approached us. He was a little guy. He handed Rashan and me our IDs, and started talking about people falling into the water and being carried up/downriver. We also got a lesson in riptides. He even pointed one out to us.

With our IDs were little pink pieces of paper. A summons. Good Cop then told us what we were to do: Before February 2003, we are to appear at 346 Broadway before a judge at the Criminal Summons Court and say we were just visiting and had no idea this was “trespassing” (the official “Criminal Offense). The charges will be dropped, we won’t have to pay a fine, and – this is the best part -- if we stay out of trouble for six months, then we’d be cleared. If we don’t show up before then, we will have warrants put out for our arrests. I had to hold my tongue because all of a sudden, I’m forced into a probationary state of being. I’ve never been “on probation.” While I can pretty much guess what’s wrong and what’s right, I’m no longer sure I can trust myself. Because I didn’t think this was wrong. So I had to prevent myself from asking Good Cop to define “staying out of trouble.” I didn’t ask.

He went into detail of two guys who ended up over here, one of which who couldn’t stop. He discussed NYC’s financial state, in response to someone’s (I believe it was Katharina’s) suggestion of putting up a sign. He even supported that with an anecdote about truck signs on the freeway, which I will not get into here. Good Cop didn’t stop there. He went on to say that it was a good way to make money. And an even better function of these trespassing laws was that it was a good way to keep crime down. Katharina was facing me at this point and I had to tell her not to say anything because I could see her poised to debate. I was there with her but I didn’t want to torture the poor guy. He wasn’t too smart. He then told us about Roosevelt Island in great detail: there are benches there, and you can park your car and look at the water.

It’s right across from the U.N. Well this is wonderful. He really thought we were attached this much to the water. This was the end of the conversation for now. He returned to the Saturn but soon re-emerged with explicit directions on getting to Roosevelt Island. The woman came back with the Germans’ IDs. Her partner was standing about 10 feet behind her. After that, after almost an hour of hanging around, we walked away. The woman’s final words: “Sorry, gang.” Gang. We found a bar and laughed about it. And because I’m leaving for L.A. in the morning, I can’t take care of this yet. So I’m going to be a bit of a criminal for a while. Oh well.

The night did not end there. Katharina and I left together to go back to Manhattan. She had a bit of a trek ahead of her and I was just on the other side of the bridge. Nevertheless, it was going to take a while. We headed up the street to the F train. We swiped our Metro cards, and promptly began to wait. And we waited. And waited. This isn’t out of the ordinary because it was 2 a.m. After about 20 minutes, I noticed this thing on the track. Just sitting there. Then I remembered the signs that were posted at the turnstile. Then I remembered having to take the cab home the previous evening. “The train’s not coming, Katharina.” We left and began walking to another train. Then we considered just walking over the Brooklyn Bridge. It would get me close to my place and she could catch her train. Well, we missed that opportunity and, unable to see the subway, we decided to take a cab just to the other side of the water. Katharina hailed one and he rolled down his window and asked where we were going. “Lower Manhattan,” I replied. “Sorry.” I laughed. A few minutes later, a bus came. He pulled up, stopped the bus, looked at me, paused, then kept going. There was no one on the bus. He was in service. And apparently he wasn’t in the mood for us. I didn’t think I looked that mean last night. But maybe I did. We finally just decided to find the train and we found it and we got home all right.

Clothes Shopping. Katharina and I went shopping. It was originally for me. But it didn’t turn out that way. Which is good because I looked at my savings account tonight. Anyway, Katharina had a grand ol’ time finding things and trying things on. I complied. It wasn’t too bad. But I told her I’d never do it again. She was understanding, because she’s not big on shopping either. The interesting thing that happened/was said, though, was in response to her outfit. I’d been standing out there handing her clothes, fetching different sizes (I know, I really worked today), etc. Of course, I was telling her to go smaller, because that always looks good. She came out with this outfit that looked quite nice, but about which she had reservations. She decided to ask the dressing room chick for her input. She said it looked good. Katharina said that it wasn’t her style. That’s when the lady said that it wasn’t really about that, it was about what I thought! Hilarious. Well, that was my weekend. The shuttle is picking me up at 11:15. I’m on United Airlines flight 11 headed to Los Angeles if you should hear any news reports. I will try to update this while I’m gone for those of you who just can’t get enough of my life.