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So I was meeting up with my coke dealer one day. We're in the bar, I bought a drink and he got me another one. We'd already done the deal - I had a half gram in my pocket and then we were just shooting the shit. Funny guy - he'd get out of prison, spend a few months smoking and selling crack then he'd get busted again and go back into the joint to fatten back up and start again.
We're chatting away and some guy with a light blue jacket and a buzz cut walks up, asks his name, stands him up and snaps the cuffs on. I take a long haul on my drink while I watch this go down and then get a tap on my shoulder. Detective dick, saying we've gotta talk. I asked him for ID and he flips his wallet open and shut real quick. I say no, I'd like to see it properly. He hands it over, I confirm his name with him, hand it back and ask him what's up.
"We need to have a talk."
"Okay, we're talking."
"Outside."
Well fuck, I don't want to start digging my heels in with this guy so alright let's go outside. We get out there and he starts in right away.
"Okay, as of right now you're under arrest."
"For what?"
"Possession of a controlled substance."
"How do you figure that?"
"You were in the company of a known drug dealer."
"I'm a pretty sociable guy. I talk to lots of people in the bar."
Mind you, he hasn't cuffed me at this point. We're standing face to face, I've handed over my ID and my pocket knife but he hasn't given me the Canadian version of the Miranda so I'm thinking this arrest is complete bullshit. He's fishing and I don't want to bite.
"So you don't have any drugs on you?"
"Well shit, I might have some weed in my tobacco pouch" I don't but I'm stalling so I pull it out and pick through it where he can see.
"Sorry I don't even have any weed on me"
"Well I'm going to have to ask you to empty your pockets."
"I don't see why I'd do that for you."
"Blah blah blah bullshit lie bullshit blah blah blah"
"I don't think I'm required to do that, sir"
"Blah blah blah"
I've finally had enough of this stupid back-and-forth so I say
"Look, I've given you my ID. Why don't you run my name and we'll move along"
He finally calls my name in and says
"I'm going to ask you one last time to empty your pockets."
"I'm going to have to tell you one more time that I'm not willing to do that.
So he grabs me and hooks the cuffs on. Fuck me, here we go. But he only did a pat-down over my clothes and you're not going to feel a half gram of powder in somebody's pocket. The radio comes back saying I'm a good boy never did nuffin and off come the cuffs.
"Okay, uhhh, well you're free to go."
"I thought I was under arrest?"
"Well mumble mumble go on your way"
"You have a business card, detective Potter? Make that two."
He looks like a whipped pup by now. Hands over the cards and I thank him and head to the closest place I can think of to "dispose" of the dope.
It was a good day.
Oh, I got my knife back too
We're chatting away and some guy with a light blue jacket and a buzz cut walks up, asks his name, stands him up and snaps the cuffs on. I take a long haul on my drink while I watch this go down and then get a tap on my shoulder. Detective dick, saying we've gotta talk. I asked him for ID and he flips his wallet open and shut real quick. I say no, I'd like to see it properly. He hands it over, I confirm his name with him, hand it back and ask him what's up.
"We need to have a talk."
"Okay, we're talking."
"Outside."
Well fuck, I don't want to start digging my heels in with this guy so alright let's go outside. We get out there and he starts in right away.
"Okay, as of right now you're under arrest."
"For what?"
"Possession of a controlled substance."
"How do you figure that?"
"You were in the company of a known drug dealer."
"I'm a pretty sociable guy. I talk to lots of people in the bar."
Mind you, he hasn't cuffed me at this point. We're standing face to face, I've handed over my ID and my pocket knife but he hasn't given me the Canadian version of the Miranda so I'm thinking this arrest is complete bullshit. He's fishing and I don't want to bite.
"So you don't have any drugs on you?"
"Well shit, I might have some weed in my tobacco pouch" I don't but I'm stalling so I pull it out and pick through it where he can see.
"Sorry I don't even have any weed on me"
"Well I'm going to have to ask you to empty your pockets."
"I don't see why I'd do that for you."
"Blah blah blah bullshit lie bullshit blah blah blah"
"I don't think I'm required to do that, sir"
"Blah blah blah"
I've finally had enough of this stupid back-and-forth so I say
"Look, I've given you my ID. Why don't you run my name and we'll move along"
He finally calls my name in and says
"I'm going to ask you one last time to empty your pockets."
"I'm going to have to tell you one more time that I'm not willing to do that.
So he grabs me and hooks the cuffs on. Fuck me, here we go. But he only did a pat-down over my clothes and you're not going to feel a half gram of powder in somebody's pocket. The radio comes back saying I'm a good boy never did nuffin and off come the cuffs.
"Okay, uhhh, well you're free to go."
"I thought I was under arrest?"
"Well mumble mumble go on your way"
"You have a business card, detective Potter? Make that two."
He looks like a whipped pup by now. Hands over the cards and I thank him and head to the closest place I can think of to "dispose" of the dope.
It was a good day.
Oh, I got my knife back too
