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The Altima, Part Six: The Arrest/No More Jarmobile

October 25, 2011 Leave a comment

Having graduated college towards the end of December, I was really fucked in terms of finding a stable job in the carpentry/masonry trade. I spent the first two weeks at home doing nothing on purpose just because I didn’t feel like doing anything right after I was done school. For the last few days of December & the first week of January 2010, it started getting boring and I made a pledge to have a job of some kind by the end of the month. After only a week, the boredom continued and I pitched the crazy idea to my dad of joining the army if I didn’t have a job by the end of the month. He apparently didn’t think I was serious, and questioned the effort of my attempt. A week later, and with two weeks of no answers from the Unemployment office, I gave up and called the recruiter. A few days later, he was at my house. Less than a week after the first call, I had signed the initial paperwork. On February 12, I officially signed as a recruit. One of my favorite questions that the recruiter asks involves drug/alcohol use and abuse. And this is where the conclusion begins.

At the beginning of March, the Summers Bros. were on school vacation up to Big Poop’s new house down in Thornton. I had just gotten my old job back at Lowe’s and had money to my name once again. I travelled down to do what else, drink beers and smoke some mary-jane. Travis “Danger” Miller had been calling for about 2 hours telling us about a party that was going on down at UNH. It was only 7:30 at this point, but we somehow were intent on staying put where we were. At some point “Black Nate” McBeath and “Kitty” Friedmann showed up, I don’t remember when. By about 9:30, 945ish, after a solid amount of bong hits, we were in no shape to leave Shiloh’s room in the basement. Travis called yet again, and somehow at about 10pm, we made the sudden decision to stuff all 5 of us in the Altima and make the 2 hour drive down to Durham. Supplies were needed, so an unnamed amount of Bud Lights were thrown into a backpack and we were off. For 2 straight hours, It was almost impossible to open my eyes more than a crack, so I could only see about 30% of the road the entire trip. I also regret not pounding a road soda on the way down.

We got onto campus sometime just before midnight and then spent a good 20 minutes trying to find a parking space in what has to be the most poorly constructed student parking lot of all time. We find Travis and make our way into the dorm for this “party” he’s been screaming about for 4 hours. The first things I notice after walking into the suite:

1.a couple of fat kids to the left standing in a group with no beers in their hands,

2. at least 3 girls I went to high school with to the left behind the fat guys

3. a group of about 10 slow dancing (yes, THEY WERE FUCKING SLOW DANCING AT A “party”) straight ahead of me

4. A loud, obnoxious, scrawny girl crying about the rules of beirut while playing against YET ANOTHER person I went to highschool with

5. I won’t ever remember what music was playing, but it was something godawful.

I honestly drove completely stoned 2 hours for THIS. Any kind of buzz I was feeling before this, GONE. I’m at a school with over 15,000 students, the biggest “college” in all of NH, and I’m really in a room where I know 6-10 people here? I ask one of the fat dudes where the beer is at, since there doesn’t appear to be a sign of a full beer anywhere in this suite. He then tells me there is none. I am almost irate at this point, having already witnessed 1-5 and I’m starting to flip out. It took the next 20 minutes or so to convince the other 4 guys to leave, with Travis trying to convince everyone the entire time that an alcohol-free party was going to be at least slightly interesting. After waiting for what seemed like an hour we left as Nate felt the need to pick up a quarter which was seriously wrapped in paper towel (classy UNH drug dealers) and cost $125 for what was really $40 worth of weed. Satchel insisted on trying to find Taylor Caggiula’s frat and going there, but I’d already had enough of UNH and wanted to head back. We made our way back to the parking lot and set off.

As rough as the trip down was, the trip back was easier but more frustrating, until we rolled up a few J’s for the ride back. We had just finished and thrown the roach out the window when we approached the store next to the road where my uncle lived before he passed away. As we got within about 500 feet, a cop car up ahead flew into the parking lot and made a lightning fast U-turn. As we drove by, he almost slammed into me pulling out. He then followed us for the next 2 miles or so before throwing on the flashers. Of course we still had the weed on us, and of all our great ideas for hiding it, Shiloh put it under the front passenger seat. After waiting forever the cop finally walks up and shines his light directly into my eyeballs and starts asking the usual cop questions. Immediately, he becomes more interested in the aroma of mary-jane emanating from the car and asks if he can take a look around. As quoted by Satchel, I then blurted out “there are no drugs in this car” [false] and within five minutes we’re all standing outside being questioned as there was no way I was gonna fuck with the threat of them bringing the K-9 unit in.

Five minutes after they pull us out I’m in handcuffs and being put in a cruiser with Shiloh, still without being told what I was ever pulled over for in the first place. As we’re waiting for the rest of the group to be locked up, I hear a clicking noise, and the Fat Fuck driving the SUV cruiser turns around. He says something to the other officer and at this time, we both realize he locked himself out of his own cruiser even though he forgot to shut my door all the way when he closed it. After about a 20 minute wait, a third crusier shows up, they unlock our crusier’s front doors, and then drive off with Nate as the only passenger. (apparently black people have to be taken away alone) While we were waiting for the third cop, I watched a flatbed wrecker appear out of nowhere, pick my car up, and then back down into the garage we were stopped across from. (really?) About an hour after pulling us over, these “cops” finally drive us down to the police “station”.

They take us in, unhandcuff us, then have us wait to get fingerprints and mugshots. The whole process was a joke as the cop really had to consult Shiloh for a second opinion on what my facial hair type was (beard, goatee?). After that, I then went to a room with a table and a big bowl of M&Ms (which we ate most of over the next 90 or so minutes). The K9 guy, apparently bored from not doing anything on shift, shows up and starts bullshitting with us. Shiloh left his jacket and Pacers hat in the room and he spent a good 15 minutes telling us how he would get raped wearing those to the Rockingham County Jail. He then tries telling us after 5 unsuccessful tries of calling Caggiula that we would be sent to the drunk tank for the night if we couldn’t get anyone to pick us up. We then spoke with the bailiff, who gave us our paperwork (charges, court dates, bail fee, etc.) We get let go at about 4:15 am, with no idea where the nearest gas station was, seeing as all our travel was done at night after business hours. We then groveled for about 4+ miles or so over the next two hours, with me wearing Kitty’s jacket as I had conveniently thrown my sweater in the trunk upon departing UNH. At this point, Satchel also realizes that the outstanding officers never bothered to fingerprint or mugshot him.

At some point just after 6, we found a shell station that was open for the morning and walked in. They had one of those in-store Subway’s with all the tables and chairs. I found one and passed out instantly. I was woken up about an hour later by Satchel telling me it was time to go. Apparently, some woman walked in on her way to work at some nursing home further south and he told her a solid lie about being left there by our friends (who somehow had a vehicle big enough to fit all of them and all 5 of us) and she believed him and agreed to drive us 20 minutes out of her way back to UNH. We had gotten hold of Caggiula by this time and he agreed to let us stay in his room (which meant I would have to be within 15 feet of James Conklin, the only kid cool enough to rock a bowl cut mullet past the age of 18). I got to sit in the corner with the TV on my lap, and the trip back seemed a lot longer than I remembered the night before. We got dropped off, found T’s room, and passed out for a few hours (with me using one of Conk’s shoes as a pillow).

Somewhere around 11, Nate was able to call his mom and come up with another great lie, that I’d illegally parked in a no-parking zone and had my car towed. She made the drive all the way down to pick us up and took us back to Big Poop’s. I ended up calling the garage first thing the next morning and found out that I owed $250, for the tow and the two days that the car had sat in their impound lot. As I didn’t get paid until that Friday, this was impossible, and they told me it would be $500 to pick it up then.  I ended up working out a deal to pay them the $250 and to sign the title over to the garage. A car that I had gotten for free, paid thousands in repair, and was still quoted at $4500 damage for the t-bone and guardrail incident, was going to cost me money to get rid of. The Altima had gone out on its last drive with a bang. I called my recruiter, who in turn emailed the prosecutor, and all I got out of the whole thing was a penalty of a $60 online alcohol awareness course. (I didn’t even drink a single beer that entire night.)

Me and Satchel drove down Friday morning in the Blazer to recover the contents of the inside. Amazingly enough with all the solid police work done by the Northwood Police Department, they somehow managed to leave every last scrap of weed, still intact in the paper towel inside my car. We signed the paperwork, and the Altima, sadly, was out of my hands. As far as I know, the weed ended up being sold to Matt Driscoll upon Satchel’s return to Ursinus. The car is probably sitting in a junkyard somewhere, just rusting away, nothing but a memory of all the stupid shit I did from the ages of 18-20.

These days, I look at the tale of the Altima as a turning point in my life. I had the high moment of having my first car, and I experienced rock bottom, being dead broke with an inoperable automobile. Now I have a guaranteed job, full benefits, a working car that has yet to be in a [major] incident, and I can pay all of my bills and loans with ease. I look back on my college days as a learning experience in life, and to not make some of the stupid mistakes I made. It’s entirely possible that someone aquired the Altima, and is now having the same life journey I had.