Letter to Dad

When I think back to all my childhood memories, the earliest memory that I can pin point is the evening of January 30th, 1983.

The only reason I know the exact date is that the Redskins won their first Super Bowl on that day. I was 3 years and 20 days old, and what I remember from that night is not so much the actual game, but the celebration that ensued afterwards.

Several loud sharp blasts... I crawl under the coffee table and cover my ears. I'm very tired. "Mommy what's that noise?"

Apparently, my father was so overwhelmed with joy over the victory (not to mention piss drunk), that he decided to walk out the front door of our apartment and fire a few gun shots into the air.

Nobody called the cops on him because he was actually the Manager of the apartment complex. (if you can believe that) I remember being confused as to why he was shooting a gun if the Redskins won the game. It seemed to me that shooting the gun would have been more appropriate had we lost... Regardless, it was an exciting moment for a 3 year old child who lived for John Riggins and the Redskins.

That memory says a lot about my father, he was 24 years old, irresponsible, a little crazy, and had a scary little habit of getting drunk and playing with fire arms... However it does not tell the whole story. It would be unfair to tell the bad stuff and not tell you about the good stuff.

I should tell you about the feeling I got when he would come pick me up from the babysitter's house.

I guess anyone who had to go to a babysitter or daycare when they were in Elementary School might know the feeling of seeing your parent walk through the door to take you home.

I remember running up to him and latching onto his leg. He would ask me about school as we walked to his truck. It was just a regular pick up truck but it seemed to touch the sky as I looked up at it from my child's point of view. He would have to pick me up, lifting my chubby body and giant bookbag and place me on the seat.

His hands were so big, so strong. My hand had a way of disappearing into his when he held it, lost in the sea of his hard, calloused fingers.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I had a son and held his hand. My hands are soft and fleshy. Would my son be in awe of hands like that? They just aren't the hands of my father, working man hands... hands you could be proud of.

He was my Dad, my hero... The guy who took a 10th Grade Education and went from Maintenance Man to Operations Manager of a large company.

The man who would be passed out drunk on the kitchen floor Sunday would somehow manage to negotiate a million dollar renovation deal on Monday morning.

He deified logic and wisdom every step of the way. When he was dating my mother he would get so drunk that she had to help him walk, but somehow he always managed to hop on a motorcycle and drive her home before curfew without incident.

No matter how much trouble he got into, he could always get out of it. Once while drinking and driving he ran into a parked car with his truck... When the driver of the car complained, he backed up and hit it again. Then he drove off like nothing happened. That incident ended with him in handcuffs, but when he went to court he talked a judge into giving him what amounted to a slap on the wrist... He didn't even get any points on his license, AND the guy who's car he hit ended up inviting him back to his house for a BBQ! The poor guy... After my Dad was done talking to him, he probably thought HE was at fault in the accident!

As the saying goes, my Dad could "sell ice to an Eskimo."

He knew just what to say, he knew what you wanted to hear... Whether it was a judge, my mother, or his boss, he always knew how to fix the situation.

He talked to the elderly grounds keeper (Mr. Carter, god rest his soul) the same way he talked to his millionaire boss. Like an equal. Everybody respected him. To this day I can call up anyone that worked with or for him and get a favor. Tickets to the game, new siding for my house, or the keys to a vacant apartment. Anything.

He had that Babe Ruth quality about him- stay out drinking all night long and show up the next day just in time to hit the game winning Home Run.

It was as though for him, there were no consequences. You could drop out of school, go through life drunk and high, drive double the speed limit while guzzling a Budweiser, do whatever you wanted and still come out fine on the other end.

Probably not the best roll model, but damn, he's accumulated some great stories over the years... He's never been that great at being a father, but at the very least I can say he's been a good friend. A lot of kids don't even get that so the way I see it, I have no right to complain.

In the end of course it's all an illusion. Nobody can abuse their body that much and still have the last laugh. Nobody can out run time, not even my father... This race we call life is not a sprint, it's a marathon. And despite his early lead, his demons caught up to him. "La Vida Loca" has finally taken it's toll.

On his most recent fall off the wagon he fell further than any of us could have expected, spiraling out of control. In a 6 month period he lost it all, his job, his marriage, his dignity, and his confidence. He is a shell of the man he once was.

I wish I could reach out, take him in my hands and lift him up like he used to do for me. But I can't. I don't even have the courage to call him. We haven't spoken in quite some time, and even if we did speak, to be honest, I don't know what I would say.

I wrote this letter a while back but haven't been able to send it... Maybe one day:

Dad,

I know you’re going through a very difficult time in your life right now. Every man walks down his own road and fights his own battles, so I won’t pretend to have any answers.

I can't say I've ever been in the position you're in right now, but that's not to say I haven't seen my share of adversity and depression.

It seems no matter what I do, where I go, what I buy, or what I change in my life, I am occasionally brought back to the dark and lonely path of depression… So I do now how THAT feels.

At the worst of times it feels like I’m alone in a dark cave searching for an exit that doesn't exist. I’m feeling my way along the walls, hoping that something or someone will help pull me through.
At those moments I often think back to a moment in my life that you might remember.

I’m 12 years old, and I’m in pain. Not just your everyday pain either, this is like a knife jammed into my stomach and being twisted around. The doctors tell me that my appendix has ruptured and that they have to send me to surgery right away.

Everyone is telling me that it’s "no big deal," and that it’s "fairly routine." But I see the look on Mom’s face and I know that it's more serious than that.

I’m terrified and I don’t want to be cut open, but at the same time, the pain is overwhelming. So much so that I keep losing consciousness… I remember being cold and naked, with just a thin hospital gown covering my body.

As they roll me down the hallway and towards the Operating Room I feel very alone. The closer they roll me to the door, the closer the fear gets… Then, (this is the way the foggy memory plays in mind anyway) just before they open the doors, I felt you, my dad... You leaned over and kissed my cheek.

“I love you,” I heard you say and I felt a cold tear roll down my cheek. But it wasn’t my tear, it was yours. I had never felt such pure love in my life and suddenly I wasn’t so afraid.

I knew you loved me, and I knew no matter how far they took me that you would be protecting me.
With all the pain and fear I had swirling around me at the time, some might find it strange that I would choose this as my favorite memory from childhood, but I do.

I don’t take the memory out very often. I keep it tucked away like some sort of treasure, buried deep in some dark corner of my mind. I only take it out when I find myself totally lost and afraid.

I don’t know if you remember that moment differently… Maybe you don’t remember it at all. But I do remember it, and I love you for giving it to me.

I would like to give it back... for now… I think you need it more than I do. Use it however you wish. Take it out as often as you like, or keep it tucked away for emergencies, like I do.

Just please, whatever you do, take good care of it. I hope it will help you as much as it has helped me. Your loving son- Joel

Random Things I Though About While...

…Wondering what I will do with my time from now that baseball season is over…

-Pedro Martinez is crazy. And I mean that. Last night he was at the World Series for the Latino Legends of Baseball Ceremony... And with half the world watchign he just kept doing crazy Pedro things. The camera caught him standing alone in the dugout laughing hysterically for no apparent reason. Then he started doing his goofy finger pointing routine at a visably frightened and confused Juan Marical… just classic Pedro stuff. I think my wife summed it up best when she randomly decided to speak English, looking at the TV and simply stating, “You crazy Pedro... Crazy!?" [She speaks English like twice a month at totally random moments and it's always great.]

-Why are Barbara and George Bush Sr., Astro fans? Weren’t they Texas Ranger fans less than a decade ago? In what way is that allowed? You can’t just change teams like that! I mean, if you’re a Ranger's fan you can root for the Astros but you can’t show up to the game and sit front row with the Hats on and pretend to be keeping score... That’s just wrong! I was rooting for the White Sox but I didn't go buy a hat and try to pretend I was a die hard ChiSox fan... And I didn't see any of the famous Cubs fans (Bill Muarry, John Cusak, etc.) sitting in the front row trying to be a Sox fan...


-The evil old white lady I work with told me about her theory that one of our Muslim Policy holders is a terrorist… Her evidence apparently consists of two things [1] His name is Muslim, and [2] he’s not very nice to her… and that’s it. That’s all it takes for her to label you a terrorist… She is however, very tolerant of the redneck policy holder we have who refers to African-Americans as “Colored People” and sometimes an even more insulting name… So by her way of thinking: Muslim=Bad, Racist Hick=Good.

She’s also a Republican… did I mention that? Very, very Republican. She loves George Bush, Jesus, and War, not necessarily in that order.

-There is this show called “Intervention” on A&E where crack heads do crack head things for 45 minutes and then in the last 15 minutes of the show they get a surprise intervention from their family. It’s VERY entertaining, in a train wreck sort of way.

Recently they had an episode where this guy was “addicted” to video games… I don’t think it’s a valid addiction, but if it is, I’m afraid I may be one of the “addicted”.

Here’s why:
Moe Green and I bought an old Sega and a copy of NHL 94 to play on our lunch break. It really wouldn’t be a story if it ended there, but sadly, that’s only where the story really begins… We decided to create our own league… with a real schedule… we keep stats for EVERY player… There is an elaborate rule system… We even have computer printouts that keeps us up to speed on everything from Player's of the Week, to League Leaders… I'm almost ashamed to say it, but Wednesday night I bought a replica Stanley Cup to be awarded to the winner of our post season tournament, which is about to begin… We’ve even gone so far as to have post season awards for the top players, and may have a final ceremony.

Does that make me an addict? Have we crossed the line? 2 weeks ago we skipped eating lunch altogether just so we could get in an extra game!

Emu Noises

I just read Cracked Chancla's 2 part post about [1] Her new book store, and [2] her near death experience with a Burger King onion.

Her story took me back to the summer of 1995, when I was 15 years old.

Every summer my house was the place where everyone converged during the day. My parents were at work until 6, and we had a basketball hoop in the driveway. Sometimes there would be too many people and things would get out of control... But usually it was just me and a couple of friends playing basketball. Which is what was going on the afternoon that Cracked Chancla's post reminded me of.

We had been playing hard all afternoon and decided to take a quick break. It was myself, Kevin, Ben, and a girl who lived across the street. I thought that Moe Green was there as well, but he claims to have no memory of the incident at all... Regardless, even though some of the character's may be a bit foggy, I remember what unfolded very clearly.

We were eating Popsicles, (Orange popsicles to be more exact) and deciding what to do with the rest of the day. We settled on having a slam dunk contest.

None of us could actually dunk a basketball at the time, so what we would do was get out an old wooden foot stool that my Dad kept in the shed. With a running start you could use that foot stool as a launching pad for a dunk that would make even LeBron James proud... Tara, the girl from across the street would be the judge.

So we put down the Popsicles and got out the foot stool. Kevin went first... He tried to do a 360 dunk but got blocked by the rim. We all laughed as he tried to play it off. "The sun was in my eyes," sure Kevin...

Next up was Ben. He flew off the stool and launched high into the air. I think he was surprised by how high he had gotten because he lost his grip on the basketball just as he was about to throw down his dunk. He hung on the rim in disbelief as the ball rolled down the driveway. So close, yet so far.

Now it was my turn... Because they had both missed their dunk attempts, all I needed to do was complete a dunk, any dunk, and I would win.

As Ben had taken his turn I had resumed sucking on my popsicle... In a show of how effortless it would be for me to beat them, I decided to make my dunk while still eating the popsicle.

"I didn't even have to take the popsicle out of my mouth to beat you guys..." That kind of thing. It was a REALLY dumb idea, but in my defense I was only 15.

I picked up the ball and put the pop into my mouth. I dribbled twice and took off. As I planted my foot onto the stool to propel myself into the air, I could feel it wobble beneath me and turn on it's side. Instead of flying towards the rim, I landed on my ass in the middle of the driveway.

Embarrassed, I jumped up immediately and tried to act like I was fine, but something wasn't right... It was then that I realized I couldn't breath!

At some point during my fall the popsicle broke in half, with the stick and the bottom half of the pop falling to the ground... The top half had lodged directly in my throat!

I tried to swallow it down but I couldn't, it was stuck in there pretty well. I could feel my face turning red and my eyes about to fly out of the sockets. Everyone was just starring at me, unsure of what was wrong.

I tried pointing to my throat to indicate that I was choking on the popsicle, but nobody seemed to get it. (I found out later that they knew what was wrong they were just in shock)

That's when I REALLY panicked! For reasons that, to this day, remain unclear to me, I took off running down the street. Not just running, but sprinting down the street, trying my best to scream... Of course a scream wouldn't come out, just these crazy animal grunts that probably frightened all the neighbors. I don't know where I was going or what I was planning on doing when I got there, I was just running.

Then, finally, mercifully, as I neared the end of the street the popsicle melted just enough for it to slide down my throat and into my belly. It hurt really bad on the way down, but it was better than dying.

I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I gasped for air. As I sat there on the ground a thought occurred to me... "Since the object lodged in my throat was a popsicle, there was never any real danger that I would die... I mean, had I just stood in the driveway another 30 seconds the thing would have melted and slid down my throat anyway..."

"Way to keep calm and level headed under pressure Joel...," I sarcastically thought to myself.

I walked back to my driveway very embarrassed and unsure of what to say to my wide eyed friends. They just starred on in silence.

Finally, Kevin spoke up. "Dude, you sounded like an Emu!"

"What the fuck does an Emu sound like?" Ben asked.

Kevin pointed at me, "like that... An Emu sounds like Joel running down the street with a Popsicle stuck in his throat."

Everyone burst out laughing, even me.

It Was a Good Day

I stepped out of my house Saturday morning and was immediately struck by warmth of the sun. It was a beautiful day by anyone's standards... I don't normally notice things like that, but it had been a particularly ugly week here in the suburbs of our Nation's Capital and such a drastic change really made me take notice.

If the weather were a movie, then I would have to say the Sun had been relegated to small cameo parts all week. "Hey isn't that the sun?!" I found myself saying during her brief appearances... But now here she was, back in a leading role.

It was such a nice day in fact that it made me, the home-body, want to go do outside stuff like go hiking, or ride a bike, or whatever it is normal people do when it's nice out.

Sadly though, I was not on my way to do any of those normal people activities. I was on my way to work... It was only for 4 hours, but I was sure that by the time I left to go home, it would be raining again. We have a saying in the DC-Maryland area that goes something like this: "If you don't like the weather, just wait..." The meaning of course is that the weather here is infamous for changing drastically at a moment's notice. Monday could be 75% and sunny, but that doesn't mean we won't be hit with a freak snow fall on Tuesday. You just never know... Trying to guess the weather here is like trying to throw darts with you lelft hand... after you've downed a dozen or so beers.

So no, I was not counting on the sun making an all day appearance.

Then I remembered something... Today was going to be one of the best Sports days of the year! Penn State was going to be playing in Michigan, USC was going to be playing in Notre Dame, and the baseball playoffs were going full force!

Forget going outside!

I'm going to be sitting right on my couch, eating chicken wings, playing video games, and watching college football... The thought alone made me let out a school girl giggle.

(By the way, you've never seen anyone multi-task like I can during a sporting event... I'm playing X-Box on one TV, switching between 3 games on the other TV, eating, and talking on the phone all at once. PLUS whenever football is on my wife can't go 3 minutes without asking a question... So there I am holding an X-Box controller, a TV remote, a cell-phone pressed to my ear, chicken wing in my mouth and trying to speak 2 languages at once! Not to mention I have to argue with my little sister to get off the computer every 20 minutes so I can check fantasy football scores... Somehow I'm still married.)

Anyway, I quickly forgot about the weather and put my mind on work and sports (not necessarily in that order). I had planned out the entire afternoon in my mind... Popeye's chicken, start with the Notre Dame-USC game, and use commercials to check up on the Penn State game. I figured one of those two games would be a blow out meaning I could switch that game with the Cardinals-Astro's game.

It was all setting up perfectly and before I knew it, it was time to go home.

I walked to my car and to my surprise the sun was still out in full force... It was as though the Summer had returned for one last encore performance.

"Too bad," I said as I walked to the car... Thoughts of Football and chicken dancing in my head.

I sat behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

A young mother walked by pushing a stroller, two young kids straggling behind... They were headed to Baker Park, only a block away from my office.

Morena had been bugging me for the better part of a month to take her there and feed the ducks. They would be flying south soon.

"Not today Joel," I told myself... Not on the best sports day of the year.

As I drove the 5 or so minutes back to the house I thought about the situation. Morena had been stuck in the house all week long. It had rained EVERY day, so she couldn't even go for a walk.

Of course today, while I was at work she was no doubt cleaning the whole house... And really, how many more nice days were left before the ducks flew south? I felt the guilt surge through my body. "Stupid guilt!?!" I mumbled under my breath.

All I wanted to do was go home and zone out in front of the TV, but now my damn spousal guilt had gotten involved... I knew I was going to the park.

As bad as this sounds, I was now angry with the sun... "Why couldn't you have pulled this crap during the week when there are no games!"

But any disappointment that lingered was wiped away when I saw the joy on Morena's face when I got home and asked her if she wanted to go to the park... Well, actually her initial reaction was disbelief, and a look the said "What's the catch?"... But after that initial look, trust me there was joy.

So off we went. We drove back to my work to park the car and grab the office camera.

We walked around the lake... We watched the ducks... We talked... We read our books. The young mother with the stroller and the kids walked by. I tried to explain to Morena that she was to thank for our visit, but she was to distracted by duckling that had walked up to her in search of bread crumbs.

We had previously been to Baker Park on July 4th, to watch the fireworks but there were thousands of people there so it wasn't very intimate. Aside from that visit I hadn't been since I was a kid.

I had forgotten how big it was. We followed the creek that ran parallel, admiring all the big beautiful houses that overlooked the park and thought, "Maybe one day."

Not once did I even think about the games I was missing... (okay that's a lie, I called Moe Green for a score update, but only once!)

As we were getting ready to go home I got a call from my sister and her friend Alana. They were at "Rita's Italian Ice" which is across the street from my office. They picked us up a couple of Mango Gelatti's and we all sat at my desk shooting the breeze, and laughing at Alana. (She had just recently showed up to homecoming in a dress that 3 other girls were wearing... She didn't find it quite as funny as I did though, go figure).

The thought that I could go home right now and still catch most of the second half of the games did occur to me, but Morena looked so content eating her Gelatti and listening to our English jibber-jabber.

So I didn't rush anything, I let the conversation come to a natural conclusion... And that's when fate intervened.

It was almost as if all of my good deeds of the afternoon had paid off and I was rewarded. I was so sure that both the Penn State, and Notre Dame games would be long over by the time we got home... but low and behold, I turned on the TV and both games were just entering the 4th quarter. Plus the Astro's had a firm grip on victory versus the Card's allowing me to concentrate on flipping between the two college games.

That's when I entered "the zone"... I some how managed to flip back and forth between the two games with unimaginable timing. It was a Michael Jordan-esque performance from me, a Hall of Fame Couch Potato.

I was able to see every big play in each game including the dramatic finishes in both games. Plus Morena was some how able to watch it all unfold without asking any distracting questions.

Even though she doesn't quite "get" American Football, she is able to sense the drama and pageantry of it all. She even let out a big "Nooooooooo!" when Matt Leinhart dove into the endzone for the last second TD that defeated Fighting Irish.

All in all, it was a good day. Morena was happy, I felt like a good husband, I got to see the end of two GREAT football games, and my mom even brought home carry-out Oliver Garden! (Two words, Fried-Calamari...)

I guess you could say I got to have my cake and eat it too... Or better yet, I got to have my calamari and eat it too!

---------------------------------------------------------------

Will this was happening...





















This was happening...













...and that's okay!

It Was Just a Matter of Time

My wife found this story on La Prensa Grafica (a newspaper salvadorena) a few days ago and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind... Just thought I would pass it on:

Deportan a evacuada por huracán Katrina

Keny López/Milena Varón

Una salvadoreña fue deportada luego de ser capturada por inmigración mientras evacuaba Misisipi.

“Si hubiera sabido, capaz no me muevo de allí”, se lamentó Sasha Cruz, una salvadoreña que fue deportada de Estados Unidos luego de ser capturada por agentes de inmigración mientras evacuaba Misisipi a raíz del huracán Katrina.

Cruz, quien está embarazada de cuatro meses, fue capturada junto a su esposo, el mexicano Luis Hernández, el 12 de septiembre cuando se dirigían a Los Ángeles para buscar un refugio más seguro luego de las evacuaciones.

“Estuvimos una semana en Misisipi, pero nos fuimos porque casi no le daban atención a los latinos”, indicó Sasha. A raíz de esto, la joven se comunicó con su madre en Los Ángeles para que le ayudara a comprar los boletos de autobús de la empresa Greyhound.

“Le pregunté a un policía si podíamos tener problemas en el camino por ser ilegales y él me dijo que no, por eso nos confiamos”, se lamenta la joven. La pareja se desplazó por Nuevo México y en la ciudad de Phoenix, Arizona, donde tenían que cambiar de autobús, fueron detenidos por agentes de inmigración que les pidieron los documentos.

“Nos preguntaron en inglés (los agentes de inmigración), pero le pedimos que hablara en español. Luego otra persona se acercó para decirnos que nos estaban pidiendo los documentos”, agregó.

Sasha, quien llegó a EUA hace dos años con su pareja, dijo que el agente les indicó que debían acompañarlos por ser indocumentados.

Los esposos Hernández fueron llevados a una prisión federal donde fueron separados y desde esa fecha no se han comunicado.

Desesperada por deportación

La joven narró que el 14 de septiembre, un juez de inmigración le ofreció la oportunidad de quedarse en EUA si pagaba una fianza de 10 mil dólares y si alguien con residencia permanente en EUA respondía por ella. “La familia de mi esposo y la mía están ilegales, por eso no nos podían ayudar”, dijo.

Desde esa fecha, Sasha estuvo esperando la deportación, ya que los malestares de su embarazo hacían de la prisión un infierno. Fue deportada hasta el 3 de octubre.

Actualmente, la joven vive en la casa de su padre en San Salvador, pero está desesperada por no saber nada de su esposo, quien vive en Chiapas.

“Me siento mal porque antes le ayudaba a mi familia. Hoy soy una doble carga para ellos”, se lamentó Sasha, quien no descarta irse a vivir a México al lado de su esposo.

Favorite/Least Favorite Customers

So I know that a Top Five List is a really lame and over used blog post topic, but I just got a call from the wife of one of my favorite customers and I started thinking about who my favorite and least favorite customers/policy holders are.

So considering that I'm bored, I have a mild case of writer's block, and it's about time for me to post something new, this post just writes itself... So here we go:

I'll start with the favorite and then go to the least favorite because in my experience people seem to get more pleasure out of angry customer stories than nice customer stories. (First names will be real but I'm changing the last names to something that resembles but is not actually the true last names)

Favorite Customer/Policy Holder:

#5.] Dion "McKenzie"- The first client that I signed all by myself. She's pleasantly plump, always entertaining, and I have this story about her:
Dion bought a car and then it was stolen like a month later... The person who stole the car got into a wreck while running from the police, and the car was totaled. At that point it's no longer Dion's car, it belongs to the Insurance Company.
To make a long story short, Dion wasn't happy with the amount of money she was going to be paid for the car, so she had her cousin steal the car from the body shop where it was being stored! That led to me having to call her and have this talk:

Me: Is this Dion?
Dion: Yes...
Me: Dion, is there something you want to tell me about your car?
Dion: um... Yeah... My cousin, sort of, kinda, stole it back from the body shop...
Me: Do you see where that might be a problem?
Dion: Yes?
Me: Please take the car back... Really... This is a bad thing.
Dion: I think you're probably right.
Me: So you will bring the car back?
Dion: I guess...

I don't know if that conversation translates well on paper but it was such a matter of fact talk that it still makes me laugh. We could have been talking about anything, but we were talking about a stolen car... She wasn't worried, or surprised about the call, it was just a Tuesday for her.

She ended up bringing the car back and I was able smooth things over with the company and all is now well.

#4.] Luz "Sanchez"- She's just very cute and has a great... um... Personality. A very nice, round, um... Personality.

#3.] Carolyn "Byers"- Elderly black lady who has still got a LOT of spunk left in her... She is 74 years old but loves to make Moe Green blush with her dirty jokes. She gives him crap about everything from the lack of good candy on his desk to his hair loss issues, but you can tell she would be devastated if she walked in and Moe wasn't there.

#2.] Melvin "Crawford"- Picture the stereotype hillbilly and you have Melvin. He's always angry about something and always thinks somebody is out to get him. He loves to do things like buy a car and not tell us he bought until a year later when he has an accident in it... On 2 separate occasions I thought I was going to have to jump in front of him to stop him from attacking Moe Green... If I had to deal with him he would be on the "Least Favorite List" but since Moe deals with him, I love the guy!

He also had one of my all time favorite quotes ever... He makes it clear every time he comes in here that he can't read or write, yet after having a heated argument with Moe he let out this gem, (insert hillbilly accent) "I just can't trust y'all... I mean, it's gettin' to the point where I'ma haf to git everthang you say in writing!"

#1.] Jose "Ordonez" and his wife- Any day where there is a Jose sighting is a good day... He always calls me "Don Joel" and is so nice to me it's almost painful. He always has a funny story to tell, and has offered to hook me or Moe up with his little sister on several occasions even though we're both married... "No me importa, va a ser nuestro secreto!" he laughs with his silver teeth exposed. You just know Jose would be fun to drink with.

The other great part about Jose and his wife is that EVERY month they have a fight about who pays what on their bill... Like clock work, Jose will call me and ask how much of the bill goes to his Ford Ranger and how much goes to his wife's Land Cruiser... The next day, the wife calls and asks me the same question because she doesn't trust him.

The best part is... She doesn't even have a driver's license! I'm not supposed to know she even exists. Every time one of them calls with that question I have to hang up phone and pretend like we didn't just have that conversation!

Once he even brought her into the office with him to pay the bill! I introduced her like this: "Moe, this is the wife Jose doesn't have, the one who doesn't drive the Land Cruiser that we just saw her drive into our parking lot!"

Least Favorite Customer/Policy Holders:

#5.] Cruz "Gomez"- He comes in once a week to bitch about something. He always thinks he's paying too much money, and he stopped saying thank you about 2 months ago.

#4.] Ester "Hernandez"- She came into the office after I'd been working here for like 2 weeks. She kept telling me how beautiful my eyes were, how my wife should never let me go to El Salvador without her, how cute me accent was, etc... She was also leaning over and making her bra/cleavage quite visible.

Normally that would make her like #1 on my Favorite customer list, except that her actions caused me to write an explicit email to Moe Green detailing everything that happened... Only I accidentally sent the email to my boss! Gulp, I want to puke right now just thinking about it!
As you can imagine it didn't go over that well.

Now I can't even look at her almost totally exposed breasts without thinking of that emal and wanting to hyperventilate.

#3.] Flora "Alvarez"- Picture Horacio Sanz in drag... but uglier. Now picture that she comes in every month wearing belly shirts and droping hint after hint that she's "available."

#2.] Ralph & Betty "Kelly"- They're both over 80, neither of them should be allowed anywhere near a steering wheel... For whatever reason they only want to talk to me, and when they do it's 30-40 minutes of my life that I'll never get back.

#1.] Jose "Castro"and his wife- every time he comes into the office he takes a 10 minute task and turns it into an hour... He calls me on Sundays sometimes and isn't afraid to ask me to do him personal favors like: make faxes for him, write letters to his bank, and write out the phonetic pronunciation for every word in English he's ever heard and would like to learn... which is all of them.

He also has a strange feminine quality to him that makes me wonder... I mean, he looks straight, he's married to an attractive woman, and he works in construction, but there is just something a little off.

He once tried to get me to come over to his house so I could read him some letter he got from a credit card company. I told him I'd be glad to read it to him in the office on Monday (this was a Sunday afternoon), but he REALLY wanted me to go to his house!

His wife is actually delightful to talk to but she went back to Venezuela and left me here to deal with him, so now I hate her! I can neither confrim nor deny the rumors that I'm looking into a restraining order.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Chages.....

I just want to apologize to everyone for changing my template like 50 times in a week... I just couldn't find something that really worked for me. Every template I used was prefect... until I realized it had one or two things that really bothered me. I wish I had never changed it in the first place, but too late.
For right now, this is the template I'm going to stick to and that's that.
Sorry for the constant eye-sores!

Chinese Buffet Maddness!

My friend Moe Green and I spend a lot, A LOT, of time in Chinese Buffets. We go 2-3 times a week, and are always on the lookout for new spots. I'd like to think of us as Chinese Buffet Connoisseurs... Some people can ramble on the finer points of wine, or antique cars; we can ramble on about the wonders of General Tso (or at least his Chicken).

Evaluating a new spot is serious business. Not something to be taken likely.

Some keys when looking for a new restaurant:

Price: Obviously cheaper is better, but keep in mind you often get what you pay for.

Distance: Is it close enough to get there, stuff your face, and then get back to work in time?

Pandas: Avoid any place that has a Panda on the sign; The Panda Express, Chinese Panda, Panda Garden, Panda Kitchen, etc. Those places are usually located in malls and offer a very limited selection. You end up paying too much for crappy food AND you have to walk through the mall.

Carry out?: If they have it, do they just give you a box and let you cram in as much food as you can, or do they use that rip off weight scale?

Street Cred: Trust the word on the street... Well sort of... If you hear a place sucks, it usually does... If you hear a place is phenomenal, then you'll usually be disappointed... The best spots are spoken about in hushed voices in the dark corners of the office... The places that give you a big Styrofoam box for $5.25 and then turn a blind eye as you load up with so much sweet and sour pork and lo mein that you can barely close the lid...Those places are secret. Nobody wants to let the word get out. It's like that book "The Beach" by Alex Garland, everyone wants to keep paradise to themselves.

Once you've located a possible new place, the evaluation process should begin the minute you step in the door... Is it a pay before you eat place? That's usually a bad sign.

Other early warnings signs include (but are not limited to), confused hostess, or no hostess at all; mismatched chairs and/or tables; signs on the wall that threaten to charge you for any wasted food; the place is too crowded. (You don't want an empty place either. Every time I've eaten at an empty Chinese Place I'm always expecting the Health Department to show up at any second, kick in the doors, cuff the owners, and close the place down).

Be on the look out for all those early warning signs!

The next part of the new buffet experience is the most underrated but it's also very crucial... the seating process.

This is a very touchy part because it's the only aspect of the, "Chinese Buffet Experience," that depends on you and not the restaurant. Let me explain...

The Chinese Buffet (or any Buffet for that matter) is all about speed. They try to get you in the door and back out in an assembly line fashion. They take your drink order and point you towards the food before you can really sit down and get comfy.

The result is, you end up sitting down for a split second, making your drink order, then starting to stand again before you realize that the rest of the people in your group are still sitting... So then you start to sit back down, just as they start to get up! It's a mess.

You can try to laugh and play it off, but at that point you look and feel like a complete ass... I call it the, "Sit Down Dance."

Something like that can ruin the whole mood and atmosphere of the Buffet trip. Getting off to a bad start like that can potentially turn a good experience to a bad one. To combat this, Moe Green and I have decided that there are only 2 options to properly avoid the "Sit Down Dance":

Option [1]: Sit down at the table, order the drinks, and then stay there until the drinks arrive. No matter what! Even if someone from the restaurant staff does that wave of the hand thingy encouraging you to go ahead and get started, don't do it. Act like you meant to sit down and have some conversation before you start the meal. You'll save dignity and face, trust me.

Option [2]: This is the less conventional and more controversial method... Upon arrival at your table everybody determines which chair will be theirs, but nobody actuallysits down, they just stand behind their respective chairs. You make your drink order still standing, then, as soon as the waiter leaves, you go eat. When pulled off correctly you'll be able to see the envy from the surrounding tables... They'll remember how dumb they felt when they did the, "Sit Down Dance," and stare down at their fried rice in shame.

The key is to be confident in which ever strategy you choose. Also, everybody has to be on the same page... You can't have one guy do the 'stand' while everyone else does the 'sit', or vice versa... Of course the larger your dinning party, the harder it is to coordinate. I suggest ridicule and harsh critism for anybody who screws up the process.

After the "Sit Down" all the pressure is off of you and on the food. Here are some keys to look for:

The Rice: is it cooked well, or is it that rushed yellow color? Did they go overboard with the onions? Bonus points awarded for having either chicken fried rice or the elusive shrimp fried rice. (Finding good shrimp fried rice at a buffet is the food equivalent of finding the Holy Grail)

Dumplings: are they tiny and over cooked? Many times they just sit there in that pot for way too long and by the time it gets to your plate, it's like leather... So you chew through the leather to get to a tiny piece of pork/beef.

Chicken Variety: Every buffet throws the General Tso's out there (to varying degrees of quality) but the best spots also have Orange Chicken, Sesame Chicken, Sweet and Sour Chicken, Teriyaki Chicken, etc... (The place around the corner from my house has Coconut Chicken which is more or less General Tso's in a coconut flavored sauce... If it doesn't sound tasty just trust me when I say it is.)

Shrimp Toast: You'd think every place would have it, but it surprises me how many buffets don't.

Refills: How often do they refill the food trays? Do you find yourself waiting for the crazy old lady with the grey streaks in her hair to come out the kitchen with more fried shrimp? If so, that's a bad sign.

Drinks: How long does it take to get a refill? Do they take your glass back to the fountain to refill the drink or do they have the "refill girl" wandering around the restaurant with the pitcher full of warm, flat coke?

[interesting story here... Moe Green and I used to frequent a place called "City Buffet" where the staff consists of a dozen or so really hot girls who spoke little English... Whenever one of the girls would come by to check on us they would always ask 'yes' or 'no' questions that would be easy for them to understand.
"Can I get you more coke?" That kind of thing... Well without even realizing it, Moe would always answer with something a little too complicated like, "Sure", "You bet”, or "Sounds good"... The girl would then stand there frozen with confusion. It took him at least 3 months to realize what the problem was. The best part is that he can down 7-8 glasses of coke per sitting so we're talking about some frustrated chinese girls!]

Ice Cream: This is the final indicator. Any halfway decent buffet has that monstrous Ice Cream Machine with Chocolate or Vanilla, but can it handle the Chocolate-Vanilla swirl mix? How about toppings? I'm a rainbow sprinkles guy, but some people like chocolate sprinkles and/or syrup. All 3 must be present to get the perfect score. Large bowls are also essential.

And that's pretty much it... A good Chinese Buffet should pass all of that criteria and still be reasonably priced. When you do find one of those places, don't let too many people know about it.

You should also make sure you frequent as often as you can, because once the secret is out, your favorite restaurant will never be the same. Prices will go up and the lunch corwds will swarm... Before you know it you'll be paying $12 to wrestle with some guy in a trucker hat over the last spoon full of Coconut Chicken!

The Godfather meets the Washington Nationals

Gustavo, Moe Green, and Cindy, the dozen or so people who read my blog aren't big baseball people... So I came up with an idea (translation: stole idea from favorite sports writer) to hopefully keep everyone interested. I'm going to hand out post season awards based on quotes and characters from "The Godfather" (It's not only one of my Top 5 Favorite movies, it's something most people have seen and love).

Before we get onto the awards let me just say that I see the season as a great success. Even though the team finished 81-81 (a mediocre record on the surface) they managed to win the City over and stay in the Wild Card Race up until the last week of the season... Which is pretty special when you consider that they were picked to be one of the leagues worst teams.

But enough of that, it's time to hand out Joel's First Annual Godfather Awards!

Quotes first:

"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse"- Perhaps the most famous quote of the movie goes to Frank Robinson, the Nats manager... Midway through the season star pitcher Livan Hernandez was unhappy after a loss and said he wanted to have season ending knee surgery. Frank took him into his office the next day for a private "talk"... When they came out of the office Livan's knee had magically healed and he finished out the year.

"It's a Sicilian message. It means Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes"- This award goes to none other than Nats Second Baseman Jose Vidro. Before the season started there was talk of him maybe returning to his former All-Star status but he was hurt and ineffective all year long, and clearly done.

"Oh, Paulie? Won't see him no more"- This is my favorite quote of the movie and it goes to diva pitcher Zach Day... He couldn't find the strike zone all year and then made the mistake of turning his back on Frank Robinson when he came out to the mound to talk to him... You don't do that to Frank and everyone knew he was a goner at that point. "Oh, Zach? Won't see him no more." He was sent down to the minors and then traded a month later.

"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli."- This goes to Shortstop Christian Guzman who forgot to bring his bat this year but clearly ate his share of cannoli. He didn't get into playing shape until mid-season, when it was already too late for him to salvage his year.

"I've frisked a thousand young punks"- This is what the Irish Police Captain McClusky says to Sollozzo as Michael heads to the bathroom. He was clearly underestimating young Michael Corleone, and we know what happened when Mike came out of the bathroom. The award goes to John Patterson/The Arizona Diamondbacks. The D-Backs let Patterson go last year and now he's living up to his potential with the Nats. Peter Gammons (baseball Nostradamus) says Patterson will be an All-Star in the next two years.

"Hey, whataya gonna do, nice college boy, eh? Didn't want to get mixed up in the Family business, huh? Now you wanna gun down a police captain, why, because he slapped ya in the face a little bit? Hah? What do you think this is the Army, where you shoot'em a mile away? You've gotta get up close like this and bada-Bing! You blow their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit"- This goes to Ryan Zimmerman who came straight from college to the Majors in 2 months. He then proceeded to hit .397 in 20 games with the big club and become every experts pick for next great Third Baseman.

"Tattaglia's a pimp, he never could've out fought Santino. But I didn't know until this very day, that it was Barzini all along"- To me this is the last time you see The Godfather at anywhere close to full strength. He figures it all out and helps Michael through the end before having his garden death scene. The award goes to Vinny Castilla who used every last bit of strength to get to the end of the season. Nice career Vinny, now it's time to play tag with your grandson in the garden.

"If I had a wartime consiglieri- a Sicilian -I wouldn't be in this shape!"- This goes to Major League Baseball who wouldn't allow the appointed GM to resign Vladamir Gurrero a few years back. He would have been the difference between us being a good team and a great team.

"Do you know who I am? I'm Moe Greene! I made my bones when you were going out with cheerleaders!"- This is a great line which was made better by the fact that the next time we saw Moe, he took a bullet in the eye. The award goes to Tomo Ohka who also failed to show Frank Robinson respect and was then sent to Milwaukee... If that's not a bullet in the eye, I don't know what is... Have fun being a Brewer Tomo!

"It's not personal, Sonny. It's strictly business."- This has to go to Preston Wilson who came in at the trade deadline and played very well for us... BUT, he won't be resigned. He's too old, too injury prone and too expensive. But it's just bushiness.

The Cast Awards:

Vito Award (For having the Most Respect)- Frank Robinson, for obvious reasons.

Michael Award (Showing the most Potential)- Ryan Zimmerman, he is the future of the franchise.

Sonny Award (Most likely to go Crazy)- Jose Guillen, who flies off the handle and scares everyone sometimes, but he means well. I'll never forget the first game of the year when he hit a HR and then wrapped his arm around Carlos Baerga in the dugout... Carlos was terrified that Jose was trying to choke him, but then realized Jose just wanted a hug. It was a priceless moment.

Fredo Award (Biggest disappointment)- Brad Wilkerson. He was billed as the team star before the season but spent the year looking like... Well, looking like Fredo when the assassins came for his dad.

Tom Hagen Award (Quietly getting the Job Done)- The most underrated character of the movie goes to the most underrated player on the team, Esteban Loaiza, who quietly had an excellent year and kept us going with his reliable starts.

Kay Award (Most Feminine)- Everybody hates Kay, everybody hates John Halama. Kay is a girl, John throws like a girl... Which is a bad thing when you're a pitcher! (No offense to Cindy who I'm sure has some zip on her fastball)

Clemenza Award (Most lovable chubby guy)- Carlos Baerga, he's fat, he's old, he's wise.

Tessio Award (Least trustworthy)- He tried to sell out the family so they killed him. Reads a lot like the Zach Day biography.

Luca Brasi Award (Most Loyal)- Big and reliable, the enemy knew they had to kill Luca to stop him... And you'd have to kill Livan Hernandez to get him to come out of the game early.

Carlo Award (Most Hated)- Just a despicable character who beat his pregnant wife and conspired to have his brother in law (Sonny) killed... Christian Guzman was a god awful hitter and then had the nerve to be inconsistent in the field. He got his big payday and quit working out. Had he showed up in shape when he could have really been the difference this year. His strong finish over the last month and a half was too little too late.

And finally, the award for my favorite character in the movie goes to the Team MVP (as far as I'm concerned):

Appolonia Award (Makes my heart skip a beat)- I fell for Appolonia the first time I saw her, and I fell for Chad "The Cheif" Cordero the first time I saw him waddle out from the bullpen, his head down and his hat tilted slightly to the side.

Tragic Use of Deadly Force

On Saturday afternoon I posted a story about two black teens who were harassed by police officers in the parking lot of the office where I work. The incident had taken place the day before, and stuck with me all night.
I thought about the questionable history of the Frederick Police Department. In 1998 they made Amnesty International headlines when they pulled over a man "for driving erratically on the wrong side of the road (he turned out to be suffering from hypoglycemic shock). He was reportedly beaten, pepper sprayed and repeatedly bitten by a police dog who was ordered into the car once it had come to a halt. He was reported to have suffered dog bite injuries to his arms and right thigh."
Later that same year they took an elderly school teacher to jail for driving too slow... Turns out she was on her way to a church here in Frederick, and got lost. She slowed down to see if the church she was approaching was the one she was looking for. She never got to find out however because "Frederick's Finest" pulled her over and roughed her up before hauling her off to jail.
For an encore performance, Frederick PD got into hot water over their "practices" in the now demolished John Hanson Housing Projects. It seems the police decided that anyone who did not live in the Housing Project was not allowed on the property. They began arresting violators and putting their names on some creepy list that they kept for god knows what purpose.
The "highlight" was when they wouldn't allow a 10 year old boy to visit his Grandmother who lived on the premises.
The NAACP of Frederick was rightfully furious and began protesting the actions. Finally the State Supreme Court stepped in and more or less chastised the Frederick Police Department for their blatant disregard for Civil Liberties and ordered them to stop making their list and start allowing visitors into John Hanson.
In retaliation the Police Department began harassing and surveying NAACP leaders. The end result was resignations of the Police Chief, and the NAACP President who found herself in financial scandal's that have crippled the once powerful organization here in Frederick.
Things finally reached a climax in the Spring of 2000 when my High School Classmate Eric Angel Lebron was shot and killed in the same Housing Project where the police had used their unethical trasspassing strategy. There were TWO MORE murders in that John Hanson Housing Project THAT SAME WEEK!
The residents claimed that the police had intentionally cut back their patrols as retribution for State Supreme Court's ruling... The police supporters claimed that the murders were a good example of why the controversial tresspasing law had been necessary. Who was right? It's hard to say. Clearly the police were going to the extreme, but at the same time the drug problem was out of control and something had to be done to protect the innocent residents of the neighborhood.
The only thing certain was that aftermath left the city shaken. Both sides seemed to realize that the bad blood had gone too far and over time the tension seemed to fade.
On a personal level, it was a real wake up call for me. I was in the process of straightening my life out and those murders really made me reevaluate things. I moved out of the City not long after that...
That was 5 years ago, and now I'm back. I'm a different person, and Frederick is a different City... But I guess things never change, because as I typed my post about Friday's Traffic harassment, I was unaware of what happened less than a mile from my house a few hours later. Here is the story from The Frederick News Post:

FREDERICK -- A crowd of friends and family held a makeshift memorial service Saturday on the sidewalk of Dahlia Drive where 18-year-old Deni W. Rosales was shot and killed Friday by two Frederick Police Department officers.
Some of the crowd became angry and shouted when Detective David Armstrong and two officers from the Frederick Police Department approached the crowd to ask questions.
"Why couldn't we see the body?" one girl shouted. "Why didn't you show us the gun?"
Police released an incident summary of what happened Friday, but friends and family members told a different story Saturday.
Kenny Rivera, 16, said he witnessed Mr. Rosales, his friend, being shot.
"I saw everything," he said, crying. "He did what the cops said, and the cops shot him."
Kenny said he "was like a foot away" when police shot Mr. Rosales.
"He tried to get away and tripped, and the cops shot him," Kenny said. "He never had a gun."
Det. Armstrong said Mr. Rosales did have a gun in his hand when he hit the ground.
According to police, officers recovered a gun from underneath Mr. Rosales and determined it was an air-powered handgun manufactured to look just like a standard firearm.
The shooting took place about 5:30 p.m. Friday when Officers First Class James Martin and Michael Weaver saw Mr. Rosales and four others fighting, according to police. The officers honked their horn and identified themselves, police said.
Then four of the people involved in the fight started running, according to Lt. Tom Chase.
Both officers saw Mr. Rosales carrying a handgun and ordered him to drop it, according to police. Mr. Rosales did not drop the gun, and "he turned pointing the handgun at the officers, at which time both officers fired," according to the police incident summary.
Det. Armstrong said the officers fired three shots, and two hit the victim. Police would not say where on his body Mr. Rosales was hit.
Kenny said he and Mr. Rosales ran from police after having a fight with two black men who confronted them.
The victim's mother, Lilian Rosales, believes her son ran because he didn't know who the two officers were, she said through a translator.
Lt. Chase confirmed the two policemen were not in uniform and were driving an unmarked car.
Kenny said his friend was still alive for a few moments after being shot.
"I started crying and take his hands. I said, "Don't leave me like this!' ... He said my name three times," Kenny said.
While police were interviewing Kenny on Saturday, they pulled him away from the crowd.
After talking with Kenny privately, Det. Armstrong spoke to the crowd and questioned the validity of Kenny's story.
"Kenny's telling a lot of different stories," the detective said. "We need to get with his mom. He's too emotional. He's having trouble dealing with this."
Rosales family members said they want to press charges against the two officers who shot their son, but are unsure of how to do it.
Officers Martin and Weaver have been placed on routine administrative leave pending the outcome of an investigation. Once the investigation is completed, it will be presented to the grand jury.
Det. Armstrong said he will continue to investigate the shooting.
Friends and family continued their vigil on Dahlia Drive on Saturday. They left flowers, balloons, candles, notes and pictures of Mr. Rosales, a native of El Salvador. One note asked for donations to help cover funeral expenses.
Friends said Friday was Mr. Rosales' birthday.

I wasn't there so I can't honestly say whether or not Deni had a gun, but clearly things don't quite add up. Why didn't any of the witnesses see the gun? Why did two police officers attempt to break up a fight by honking their car horn? Did the poor kid even realize the two men were police officers? And most of all, if the kid did indeed have the BB gun, why would he point it at 2 cops who had their guns drawn and aimed at him?!?
The cops can save their weak explanations for someone else because I for one remember the history of this police department and will not soon forget.

Driving While Black/Brown

"Speeding less than 10 mph over the speed limit", "Failure to comply with regulations", "Driving to fast for the conditions", "equipment violations"... Off the top of my head, those are all bullshit driving charges that you can be ticketed for in the great State of Maryland. If I really thought about it I could probably come up with a half dozen more questionably vague violations.
My friend Brian (Moe Green) and I like to call these charges: "Driving While Black/Brown." (I'm pretty sure we heard that somewhere else, and adopted it as our own, but I'm not sure where.)
Both of us being Insurance Agents we have access to driving records... We've seen thousands upon thousands of records and we began to notice some things; Like, when you pull someone's record and you see tickets for those charges. Well, 75%-80% of the time it's a minority sitting across your desk. (Brian puts the percentage higher than I do.)
We've talked about starting some kind of spreadsheet where we could actually record every time we come across this... Something to show what the bullshit charge was followed by the persons race/age/sex. I don't know what we would do with our little study when we were done with it. Most likely we'd just look at it and say "wow, we were right," and that would be the end of it.
I guess until we actually get around to starting and completing our little study, we have no scientific evidence to show... For now you'll just have to take the word of two guys who have seen A LOT of driving records. Beyond that, all I can offer you two short stories that perfectly illustrate our theory in work.

STORY 1: This involves myself and Brian when we were 17 and 16 respectively. My mom's boss gave her the keys to their beach house for a week, so off we went. My mother, my little sister, myself and Brian. I was 17 and a half at the time but had only been driving for 2 months. (that was due to an insane incident where I stole my own car and went missing for a day, but that's a story for another time!)
Anyway, I had very little driving experience but somehow we convinced my mother that instead of just going in her Minivan, we should be able to take my car as well... (For the record that has to be one of the Top 5 most illogical parental decisions my Mom ever made.)
To make a long story short, we ended up getting pulled over one night because I was speeding about 15 mph over the limit with my headlights turned off, AND I didn't have my Driver's License with me! (even if I did have it with me it was a Provisional License that restricted me from driving past midnight, and it was 1:30 AM).
I thought I was going to jail for sure... I was like 2 seconds away from crying when the cop said "You do actually have a driver's license don't you?"
"Yes," I replied, a little confused by the fact that he was going to just take my word for it.
"Well, you boys turn your headlights on and drive home safely..."
And that was it. Not a written warning, not even a verbal warning... He didn't ask for my name!?!
I often wonder how that would have turned out had we not been a couple of innocent looking white boys.

STORY 2: This took place yesterday in our office parking lot.
Around 3 pm we noticed that there were FOUR cop cars blocking off our parking lot as they interviewed 2 black teenagers.
Both the teenagers had that "I don't understand why we're being pulled over?/What the hell are there 4 Police cars here for anyway?" look about them... Before I could even say the words, Brian beat me to it, "Driving While Black," was his theory.
The questioning went on for another FORTY-FIVE minutes! They searched both teens, and then did a thorough search of the car... They found nothing.
Finally one of the cops came in to let us know what was going on.
"Driving without a license..." He informed us.
Well driving without a license isn't something you get pulled over for, that's something that they discover AFTER they pull you over.
"How did you find out he didn't have a license?" I asked.
"Well," he replied with a southern twang, "he almost got into an accident there on Patrick Street, he wasn't paying attention and almost rear-ended somebody."
Since when is ALMOST having an accident a crime? And if he was able to avoid the accident he must have been paying attention. Right?
I didn't have the balls to question the officer any further. I've had a long history of mouthing off to the Cops when I shouldn't, and it never goes well. So I bit my tongue.
I couldn't however, suppress the cynical look I had on my face. Seeing this, the Cop must have felt compelled to further explain his actions... "I just want to see some ID from him. His girlfriend is supposed to be on her way, she has his License," he explained.
At first when the officer said the kid was driving without a license, I took that to mean he had no License to speak of, but if his girlfriend was bringing it to him then he had simply forgotten to take it with him when he left the house... Just like I did when I was 17 years old at the beach.
It just didn't seem right. They pulled him over for almost having an accident, questioned him and his friend for almost an hour, searched the car, wrote him a $30 ticket for not having his license with him, and that needed 4 police cars?!?!?
As the commotion died down and all the cars left our parking lot, I turned to Brian.
"Do you remember when-" I started to say before he cut me off.
"The beach right?" he asked.
"Exactly," I replied.
"Yeah, I remember..."