So then there Was This Time A and I Got Arrested for Curfew...
Picture it. Glenview, IL July 3, 1991. I had just gotten my driver’s license and was fresh off yet another grounding. I was grounded a lot as a child. I tend to believe this was my mother’s desperate attempt to keep my ass out of trouble rather than an effective punishment for any wrong doing. I was always in trouble. Therefore, I was always grounded.
Gilson Park at night in the summer was THE hangout for kids my age, and I had reaped the benefits nicely by snagging a boy one night. We exchanged digits, and a few days later he called and made plans to get together. I decided that I would call my some-time partner in crime, A to accompany me on this adventure. We were going to a party. The boy would be there. I didn’t want to go alone because, well, one didn’t travel alone to strange parties. You called your girls. You went en masse. You had back-up.
So, the party was at 8. Here’s where the problems started. Those of you who’ve known me for a while remember the ridiculous “in by (insert unfuckingreasonable time here)” sanctions levied upon me by my mother. That year, I think I had a 10:30 curfew. Yeah. 2 ½ hours of playtime. That was it. And the party was in Mt. Prospect. A half an hour away. So, all together now… how much time did that actually leave me? ONE AND ONE HALF HOUR. And seriously, the parents involved in this disaster of an evening wonder why I did what I did.
Ok, so we roll in at 8:30. There’s the boy. There’s booze here. Boy+booze = yep, you guessed it… immediate trip to one of the rooms to make out. Again…ONE AND ONE HALF HOUR. That’s all I had. So, you can imagine his dismay, when I announced I had to leave.
“Can you come back later?”
Well, hmmm, hadn’t thought of that… perhaps I could sneak out of the house and come back after my mom had gone to bed… BRILLIANT!
“Yes, after I go and make an appearance back home, we will come back.” (There was no way in hell I was doing this on my own.)
I go and collect A, who I think at this point was chatting it up with some tall guy. We got home at the appointed hour…Amanda was sleeping over, and waited for my mom to get home, so she could go to bed and we could go back out. Well, my mother wasn’t cooperating. She wasn’t coming home at a reasonable hour. As a matter of fact, I don’t think she got home until around midnight and wasn’t going to bed any time soon either. We were screwed.
In order to get to the party, we had to drive. My mother was up and in the front part of the house that overlooked the driveway. Even if we pushed the car into the street before starting it, she’d totally see us. Then came the idea. The idea that would alter the course of that summer forever. I can’t even remember who thought of it… so I’ll blame A.
“Why don’t we take my parent’s car?”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
So, we slipped unnoticed out of the house and BOOKED our asses down the street to A’s house. She sneaked inside to get the keys.
I should pause here to point out a couple of things.
1. I was only 16. Curfew in Glenview legally began at something like 11:00. As a minor, my driver’s license was rendered invalid after that time. Which also meant I was no longer insured.
2. A was only 15 at the time with a learners permit.
3. It was now 12:30.
4. This was a bad idea.
We pushed A’s parents’ Dodge Aries station wagon out of the driveway and half way down the block before we got in and started it. So far, so good. We were off.
We drove back to the house where the party was. We knocked on the door. A guy I recognized as one of the boy’s friends answered the door.
“HEY!!”
“Hey…sorry it took us so long to get back…”
“No problem… but uh, (the boy) went home.”
“…..”
“I could call him if you want..”
“Yes, do that one thing.”
He calls. No one answers. It’s like 1 in the morning. Dude was drunk when I left. And he was like 17. Undoubtably he was passed out. I was pissed. And disappointed. I had adventure adrenaline coursing through me and nothing to do with the resulting energy. Just then, another really bad idea. This time, from the tall guy.
“HEY! Why don’t we go over there… he’s a pussy, and you guys came all the way back…we’ll go get his ass out of bed.”
Let me pause again.
It’s now 1:30.
These guys are wasted.
I am driving around in a STOLEN AND UNINSURED car.
There was no guarantee the boy would be awake much less let us in to his house.
Did we go?
To quote Robert “Kid Notorious” Evans:
You bet your ass we did.
Off we drove down Euclid. Woo hoo! We’re on our way! Smoking cigarettes…towards more adventure!!! Hey is that a cop behind us? Naw, dude, that’s a ski rack! HEY! I’m gonna throw this GLASS BOTTLE out the window….
Flashing red and blue. OHMYFUCKINGCHRISTWEAREINSOMUCHTROUBLE
OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUUUUUUUUUUCK.
“Hello, may I see your license and insurance please?”
A, God bless her heart, tries to cover with ‘oh, this is my parent’s car, and I don’t know where they keep the card..”
I hand over my now worthless license.
The cop chuckles.
“Young lady, it’s after curfew, you’re underage, and you’re under arrest.”
I tried to make up some story about my dad or something (he was living in LA at the time) I don’t know I was delirious with panic.
A was surprisingly calm. She held my hand in the back of one of the 5 squad cars that showed up, and reminded me that I was a student at a prominent Catholic school in Wilmette and that THIS INDIGNITY would not be suffered lightly….or some such bullshit designed to make me not think about the hanging I was facing at home.
It was 3:30 am.
They called our parents.
“Hello, Mr. A? This is the Mount Prospect Police Department. Do you know where your daughter is?”
Assholes! They actually SAY that?
“No, she isn’t sir, she’s here at the station. In Mt. Prospect. Mr. A, do you know where your Dodge Aries is?”
Dude!
“No, sir, it isn’t. It is also here at the station. In Mt. Prospect. Could you kindly come and collect them?”
I don’t remember what they said to my mother.
I remember her picking me up though. With her boyfriend at the time. At 4 AM. I remember being in the backseat when a Beatles’ song came on and my mom yelling at me for singing along. I remember hearing “You’re grounded for 2 months.” The rest of the summer.
I remember it was a bad bad night.
A, on the other hand got a slap on the wrist. She was free in 2 days. Got yelled at and that was it. And it was HER PARENT'S CAR!!
I suffered 2 weeks (early release for good behavior) of no going out and no phone. It was hell. I think some of my most angsty teen poetry came out of that grounding.
Thank God for my brother and his friends.
And Thank God for Marijuana.
Oh, and no, I never talked to that guy again.
Story of my freakin’ life….
Gilson Park at night in the summer was THE hangout for kids my age, and I had reaped the benefits nicely by snagging a boy one night. We exchanged digits, and a few days later he called and made plans to get together. I decided that I would call my some-time partner in crime, A to accompany me on this adventure. We were going to a party. The boy would be there. I didn’t want to go alone because, well, one didn’t travel alone to strange parties. You called your girls. You went en masse. You had back-up.
So, the party was at 8. Here’s where the problems started. Those of you who’ve known me for a while remember the ridiculous “in by (insert unfuckingreasonable time here)” sanctions levied upon me by my mother. That year, I think I had a 10:30 curfew. Yeah. 2 ½ hours of playtime. That was it. And the party was in Mt. Prospect. A half an hour away. So, all together now… how much time did that actually leave me? ONE AND ONE HALF HOUR. And seriously, the parents involved in this disaster of an evening wonder why I did what I did.
Ok, so we roll in at 8:30. There’s the boy. There’s booze here. Boy+booze = yep, you guessed it… immediate trip to one of the rooms to make out. Again…ONE AND ONE HALF HOUR. That’s all I had. So, you can imagine his dismay, when I announced I had to leave.
“Can you come back later?”
Well, hmmm, hadn’t thought of that… perhaps I could sneak out of the house and come back after my mom had gone to bed… BRILLIANT!
“Yes, after I go and make an appearance back home, we will come back.” (There was no way in hell I was doing this on my own.)
I go and collect A, who I think at this point was chatting it up with some tall guy. We got home at the appointed hour…Amanda was sleeping over, and waited for my mom to get home, so she could go to bed and we could go back out. Well, my mother wasn’t cooperating. She wasn’t coming home at a reasonable hour. As a matter of fact, I don’t think she got home until around midnight and wasn’t going to bed any time soon either. We were screwed.
In order to get to the party, we had to drive. My mother was up and in the front part of the house that overlooked the driveway. Even if we pushed the car into the street before starting it, she’d totally see us. Then came the idea. The idea that would alter the course of that summer forever. I can’t even remember who thought of it… so I’ll blame A.
“Why don’t we take my parent’s car?”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
So, we slipped unnoticed out of the house and BOOKED our asses down the street to A’s house. She sneaked inside to get the keys.
I should pause here to point out a couple of things.
1. I was only 16. Curfew in Glenview legally began at something like 11:00. As a minor, my driver’s license was rendered invalid after that time. Which also meant I was no longer insured.
2. A was only 15 at the time with a learners permit.
3. It was now 12:30.
4. This was a bad idea.
We pushed A’s parents’ Dodge Aries station wagon out of the driveway and half way down the block before we got in and started it. So far, so good. We were off.
We drove back to the house where the party was. We knocked on the door. A guy I recognized as one of the boy’s friends answered the door.
“HEY!!”
“Hey…sorry it took us so long to get back…”
“No problem… but uh, (the boy) went home.”
“…..”
“I could call him if you want..”
“Yes, do that one thing.”
He calls. No one answers. It’s like 1 in the morning. Dude was drunk when I left. And he was like 17. Undoubtably he was passed out. I was pissed. And disappointed. I had adventure adrenaline coursing through me and nothing to do with the resulting energy. Just then, another really bad idea. This time, from the tall guy.
“HEY! Why don’t we go over there… he’s a pussy, and you guys came all the way back…we’ll go get his ass out of bed.”
Let me pause again.
It’s now 1:30.
These guys are wasted.
I am driving around in a STOLEN AND UNINSURED car.
There was no guarantee the boy would be awake much less let us in to his house.
Did we go?
To quote Robert “Kid Notorious” Evans:
You bet your ass we did.
Off we drove down Euclid. Woo hoo! We’re on our way! Smoking cigarettes…towards more adventure!!! Hey is that a cop behind us? Naw, dude, that’s a ski rack! HEY! I’m gonna throw this GLASS BOTTLE out the window….
Flashing red and blue. OHMYFUCKINGCHRISTWEAREINSOMUCHTROUBLE
OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUUUUUUUUUUCK.
“Hello, may I see your license and insurance please?”
A, God bless her heart, tries to cover with ‘oh, this is my parent’s car, and I don’t know where they keep the card..”
I hand over my now worthless license.
The cop chuckles.
“Young lady, it’s after curfew, you’re underage, and you’re under arrest.”
I tried to make up some story about my dad or something (he was living in LA at the time) I don’t know I was delirious with panic.
A was surprisingly calm. She held my hand in the back of one of the 5 squad cars that showed up, and reminded me that I was a student at a prominent Catholic school in Wilmette and that THIS INDIGNITY would not be suffered lightly….or some such bullshit designed to make me not think about the hanging I was facing at home.
It was 3:30 am.
They called our parents.
“Hello, Mr. A? This is the Mount Prospect Police Department. Do you know where your daughter is?”
Assholes! They actually SAY that?
“No, she isn’t sir, she’s here at the station. In Mt. Prospect. Mr. A, do you know where your Dodge Aries is?”
Dude!
“No, sir, it isn’t. It is also here at the station. In Mt. Prospect. Could you kindly come and collect them?”
I don’t remember what they said to my mother.
I remember her picking me up though. With her boyfriend at the time. At 4 AM. I remember being in the backseat when a Beatles’ song came on and my mom yelling at me for singing along. I remember hearing “You’re grounded for 2 months.” The rest of the summer.
I remember it was a bad bad night.
A, on the other hand got a slap on the wrist. She was free in 2 days. Got yelled at and that was it. And it was HER PARENT'S CAR!!
I suffered 2 weeks (early release for good behavior) of no going out and no phone. It was hell. I think some of my most angsty teen poetry came out of that grounding.
Thank God for my brother and his friends.
And Thank God for Marijuana.
Oh, and no, I never talked to that guy again.
Story of my freakin’ life….
posted by LC Greenwood at 2:48 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home