March 4th, 2005
Did I mention that I was arrested on the 50-yard line at the Rose Bowl? Oh, and it gets worse. I was carrying a saxophone, and wearing a wool band uniform with epaulets, gold braided cords, and one of those monstrous white Q-tip hats.
Arrested, I tell you. Led off the field, past the rest of the marching band, football players at the sideline, and the entire pep squad. In full view of the whole high school, including parents, faculty, and alumni. Yes… Handcuffed, read my rights, and tossed into the back of a squad car.
It was my junior year of high school, and it was a foregone conclusion that I would attend the homecoming game. After all, I was in marching band and we had been practicing our field routines for months.
The homecoming dance was held the night before the big game. As a dateless band-geek, the big plan was to hit dance with a group of similarly disenfranchised girls, have a sleep-over, and then head to rehearsal the next morning.
Simple plan, right? Actually, I had forgotten to take into account the fact that my mother was a stark raving bitch, who took great pleasure in imposing stupid restrictions upon me unprovoked. The word “fair” was not in her vocabulary. And this week she had PMS.
Two days before the dance - after I had already purchased a dance ticket and a dress with my own money, earned while working a part-time job after school - Mom decided that I was not allowed to go. I decided I’d had enough. Screw her, I’m going.
And that I did. I packed my gear on Thursday night and brought it to school with me on Friday. Went home with Heather and we got ready for the dance together. Had a wonderful time, considering.
Got back to Heather’s at a respectable hour, hopped into pajamas, cracked jokes until her parents scolded us, then fell asleep and woke up the next morning to head to band practice and the big game.
I figured my mom would be pissed, but she knew where I was and why. Surely she had to know that she was being crazy and unreasonable. Maybe by now she had come to her senses and moved on.
In fact, she reported me run-away to the Sherriff’s department. She was even so thorough as to provide them with a full itinerary of where they might find me. And there they were… at the Rose Bowl.
We were about to start the pre-game show when I saw these two officers walk up to our conductor, and I immediately knew they were there for me. I remember the terror that struck my hart as the music professor pointed to me from the stands.
By the time they reached the field the show had begun, and the sherriffs had to weave through formations to reach me. When they did, they each grabbed me by an arm and escorted me off the field and out to the thoroughfare where the squad car was parked.
A few feet away, my ex-boyfriend, who was about to perform along with the rest of the drumline, looked on in horror and bemusement. One of the officers took out a picture of me and asked me questions to verify my identity. I answered honestly, holding back tears.
They tossed me in the squad car, laughed among themselves, and poked fun at me the during the trip to the Sherriff’s station. Later I came to find out that my mom had asked them to teach me a good hard lesson. So kind of them to comply.
Officers processed me like any other criminal. They took mug shots and fingerprints. Then they sat me down in an interrogation room identical to ones you see on Law & Order, and taunted me with condescending questions while they filled out their paperwork.
I think they spent twenty minutes trying to find out the street address of the Rose Bowl to complete their report, as one by one, their colleagues stopped by to laugh a me, still in my band uniform, holding my saxophone, face still wet from crying.
When they told me that my mother was outside, and that they would release me to her shortly, they thought they were doing me a favor. That’s when I started wailing through the tears. I begged them to keep me there instead.
As bad as it was to be in police custody, nothing could be as bad as the wrath of my custodial parent. I had no idea what kind of a mood she’d be in, and I was terrified. Only when I heard my aunt was with her did I agree to be released.
She stood there with a satisfied grin smeared across her face. She knew she got me good. She couldn’t even keep herself from laughing when she spoke. Finally she had to turn away to regain composure.
Entry Filed under: Time Travel
25 Comments Add your own
1.
Janet | March 4th, 2005 at 3:03 pm
I’m glad that I didn’t have your mother. That must have been so hard to go through.
2.
Lisa | March 4th, 2005 at 3:46 pm
Your mom and my mom must have read the same parenting books.
3.
Roman | March 4th, 2005 at 3:47 pm
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let’s not just breeze by this you and Heather jumped into pajamas thing…
4.
LlamaKing | March 4th, 2005 at 5:54 pm
I thought it was bad when I was handcuffed for going running… You win.
5.
Jim | March 4th, 2005 at 8:03 pm
Wow! What a story. How is the saxaphone coming along? Heh, heh. Just passing through with BE. Nice site, very entertaining.
6.
Lewis Moten | March 4th, 2005 at 8:59 pm
You got her back rite? Please tell me that you did!
7.
Jason Rohrblogger | March 5th, 2005 at 1:09 am
This story sucks. You didn’t deserve that.
8.
Jesse | March 5th, 2005 at 11:00 am
Wow… My having had to sing the national anthem while wearing my dirty football uniform, standing next to 6 or 7 other students dressed in their Sunday’s best, then having to jog to the sidelines to rejoin the team before a big game, pales in comparison to your story.
9.
John | March 5th, 2005 at 2:34 pm
You should have told the cops you wouldn’t go home because of the physical abuse, I bet your mom would have stopped laughing then.
10.
Brando | March 5th, 2005 at 2:46 pm
Sorry you had to go through that. How miserable.
11.
Stepmonster | March 5th, 2005 at 2:55 pm
Dear GOD our mothers must be seperated twins… Oh, the stories I could tell you. I must say though, I never got arrested… But I assure you that it wasn’t a lack of her trying… Bless your soul.
12.
Chaos-Girl | March 5th, 2005 at 8:07 pm
Jeez, I thought my Mom was a hard ass!!!
13.
8ZERO8 | March 5th, 2005 at 9:50 pm
Dear lord… When are you going to tell us the story about killing mom in her sleep for having you arrested?
14.
Jessica | March 5th, 2005 at 10:22 pm
Wow, your arrest story is way better than mine.
15.
Neb | March 6th, 2005 at 12:34 pm
Unbelievable. The word “sadistic” comes to mind. I can see having you arrested for, say, selling drugs, attacking her with a knife, stealing money from grandma, whatever…but just for being a headstrong teenybopper and (horrors) going to a dance & sleepover?! I’m guessing you’re not very close to her these days and that she’s going to be a very bitter, lonely old woman.
Just try not to dwell on it too much…better to move on. I know that sounds trite, and I think you’ve suffered worse, but I also think you are a bright, creative, loving individual and I hope your hubby realizes how lucky he is to have you!
So there.
16.
Justa Dad | March 6th, 2005 at 10:47 pm
The really sad part is what kind of moron arrests a kid running for away to play in a marching band. If you were in some drug trafficking, seedy bar, playing in a Goth band, that would be one thing.
But the Rose Bowl?
Come on!
It shouldn’t take Sherlock Homes to figure out the circumstances were more than a little fishy.
17.
Master Foley | March 7th, 2005 at 10:19 am
doh
dont mess with mom huh
18.
Wayne | March 8th, 2005 at 10:47 am
So beaver cleaver is not your bro?
19.
See The Donkey&hellip | March 25th, 2005 at 10:26 am
Weekend Linklog
Ah, it’s been a busy week and haven’t had time for the old weblog much lately. Here’s a small sampling of a few things I’ve stumbled across elsewhere… more may be added if I ignore the nice weather and spend…
20.
Atomic Bombshell » &hellip | August 16th, 2005 at 7:56 pm
[...] 8. Tournament of Roses - Forgive me for putting it so low on the list, but it’s not as big a deal for the locals as it is for the rest of the world when they invade on New Year’s Day for the Rose Bowl game and parade. [...]
21.
Atomic Bombshell » &hellip | September 6th, 2005 at 4:30 pm
[...] With all the contortions I make while shaving in the shower, that might not be pretty. Since I’m already the queen of Total Humiliation at a Bowl Game - I’ll stick with what I know, thanks! [...]
22.
Atomic Bombshell » &hellip | September 6th, 2005 at 4:34 pm
[...] With all the contortions I make while shaving in the shower, that might not be pretty. Since I’m already the queen of Total Humiliation at a Bowl Game - I’ll stick with what I know, thanks! [...]
23.
Atomic Bombshell » &hellip | October 29th, 2005 at 9:49 pm
[...] If you’ve been lurking for any length of time you should be familiar with not only my Rose Bowl arrest, but also this sad tale. It’s only when you combine the two that you come up with Cheerleading, through an equation that looks a little something like this… [...]
24.
Tanicka | March 8th, 2006 at 10:48 am
WOW!*!*! If that were my mother i would have beat her ass. Bad enough she said you coudnt go after you bought your ticket but to call the police?!? No way i would have put up with that!*! she would have had to send me to a group home after that becuse its plain ol ridiculous
25.
Scott | October 30th, 2006 at 6:53 pm
Holly crap what a terrible thing for a high kid to go through, but it made for a fantastic story. I’ll never look at the Rose Bowl the same.
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