about 15 years ago, a mate and I were driving in a van through the bayous of Lousiana heading to New Orleans, when we saw the flashing lights of a police car in the mirror
I wasn't speeding, couldn't think of anything we might have done, but this copper was closing in fast and wanted us to pull over. We stopped and two policeman got out of their vehicle. When I opened the door, one pulled his gun and yelled at us to stay in the car. He then commanded us to get out slowly, still with his gun drawn, and put our hands on his police car and not move. I asked them what we were being pulled over for and he said he had a report of an escaping van from the next county, and we were all just going to wait until the other county police arrived. He thought that it might be a break-in.
I exchanged a glance with my friend, and his stare back showed me he was thinking the same thing. We were going to a big street party in New Orleans, not the Mardi Gras, and had bought LSD in San Francisco, to add to our substantial stash of marijuana. On top of this, an open bucket-bong was sitting unhidden in the rear of the van. If they opened the van door, we were fucked. If it's a break-in, they're going to search the van I thought, whether we did it or not. I also recalled reading that Louisiana had automatic jail time for class A possesion, and was silently cursing my idiocy for not at least hiding it somewhere. My mate had also just got married to a Mexican girl in Austin (who years later left him for another man and then got a role in the Star Wars movie, by the by), and had even more to lose if we ended up in a backwater jail.
More police kept arriving, and had the sort of exchanges that in hindsight were amusing, but at the time my mind was a bit preoccupied. "They're Orrstraylian." "Do they speak English" "Oh yeah. They speak it real good". After half an hour in limbo, the sherrif of the next county showed up and was able to explain why the call had been put out. We had stayed the night in the carpark of a Fisheries and Wildlife office. My mate had woken up and taken a morning piss against a tree. Some women had rung up who must have been sticky-beaking from the window of a house at least 100 yards away to say that a man was flashing his cock at her.
We apologised, the police lost interest and started talking about gumbo that one of their wives was cooking, I shit you not. After driving a few clicks away from the scene, my mate had a bit of a turn as the reality sunk in of how close we'd come to whole heap of unwanted shit, I imagine, and asked me to take over the driving.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Fri 27 Jan 2012, 2:00, 1 reply)

Mate, I soooo fucking loved that.
Sometimes being a bloke is good.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 27 Jan 2012, 7:53, closed)