Back in my serious druggy days
a load of friends and myself headed off to a full-moon party on a hill in the middle of nowhere to dispense some brain-candy to the young psychonauts who were flailing away to the sound of repetitive beats. We were walking through the woods on our way up when loads of Gardai emerged through the trees wielding flashlights (as the fuckers always seem to do anytime somebody under the age of 50 tries to have some fun). All of us immediately split up and ran like hell, but they managed to catch one of our party - a young lady and good friend of ours who happened to have a few hundred single serving delights in her pocket. We didn't know she'd been nabbed until a while later when she hadn't turned up and someone said they saw her being led away. Of course we were all a bit freaked so after trying and failing to get more news, we headed home... and guess who was there waiting for us? No - not the drug squad but our esteemed friend!! Apparently, she'd been caught and the little white fun sweets had been found - she was spread-eagled against the side of a police car after being searched by a young Bean Garda (lady pig to you Brits) who went off to excitedly report her findings to a senior officer. As soon as she left, my nameless friend just sort of 'slipped away' into the trees and made her way home. She was still a few grand in debt to some serious gentlemen after losing a very substantial amount of produce, but way better than an imminent jail sentence, don't you think?
(PsiPhi, Thu 8 Jan 2004, 13:52, Reply)