gnoll's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- boston Being rowdy in theatres occasionally comes with a price, though we snuck through without laying down admission so getting kicked out didn�t seem like a big deal, until the police were involved. Splitting up is always a good idea, though remember to get your stories aligned ahead of time. Off in different directions a few of us were afforded an easy escape and we wished the rest good luck. It was dark, the alleys darker and I really don�t know my way around Boston. I could hear them closing in from both ends so I found a segment between two garages that was overgrown with weeds and laid still, flat, and very quiet hoping they wouldn�t pick up on where I had gone. Then they let the dogs loose. I was violently hoisted to my feet after the dogs had found me and happily slobbered all over my face and then dragged over to the nearest house for interrogation. They knocked, nobody was home. They checked the windows to be sure and then kicked in the front door. The cops in Boston, they�ve got the art of intimidation down. They sat me in a chair in the middle of someone�s living room and immediately started questioning me. why did I run, why did I hide, where was I from, where was I going. They didn�t lay a hand me to which I was greatly relieved as I was certain they were going to beat me senseless. I admitted nothing. I said I was walking along the alley and tripped, hit my head, and woke up to the dogs licking my face. They weren�t buying it, though I wasn�t sure what sort of confession they were looking for anyway. Did they want an admission to sneaking into the theatre, for being rowdy, for being amongst rowdies? Seemed there had to be another story I wasn�t aware of, and this somehow bolstered my confidence as I knew I had done nothing wrong. And their dogs, they were so friendly, wagging their tails and playing chase games in the hall. After an hour or so, and going from violently intimidating to fluffy pacifists, they let me go. Well, they drove me home and had my wife sign for me. She looked disappointed, though she always had that look about her, and she barely looked at me before going back to our son�s room to explain to him why the police had brought their father home in the middle of the night. Not long after they had left the phone rang and it was Chris. It was obvious the police had caught him and were trying to use him to bluff information out of me. He introduced himself, that was the first thing that tipped me off, and he knew it would. 3:56 p.m. - Friday, May. 09, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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