Well, well, Mr. Po-lice Man: You think you’ve got us by the curlies here with your $3,076 beer-distribution tickets.
It sure is a damn lot of money – potentially ruinous, presumably, to those students already teetering on the edge of abject poverty and depending on heavy subsidization via our lovely financial aid department.
No more college for these poor kids.
Maybe. There’s still hope, all ye forlorn and weary criminals on the business end of the IVFP’s ticket pads, yes there is. Better yet, there’re some common-sense precautionary measures to keep the proverbial shit from hitting the proverbial fan – proverbially speaking, of course.
So. You want to have a party. You need a keg. You have friends who are under 21, or, better yet, you just want everyone to have a good time. By the way, Yahweh’s praises to the semi-noble though ulterior-motive-filled (freshman girls, I’m talking to you here) generosity of this town’s party scene. Damn the police for trying to squelch our free love – and the other kind.
Unfortunately, the police have every right to enforce the law in public areas – including your house/apartment if the door is open and people seem to be coming and going without restriction.
We can do this. We can have parties. Say you’ve got an apartment in a big complex. If there’s a fence that blocks the courtyard off from the street (6645 Del Playa, for example), you can still set up outside. Just have a man on the fence doors. If a police officer comes, ask him politely to return when he finds an invitation. A solid gold invitation. Like Charlie and that annoying blueberry bitch.
Let no one leave with beer. Remind drunken kids on their way out that there certainly wasn’t any alcohol at this party. Nosiree Joe. Remember this, minors: Karma will eat the man – or woman or raccoon, etc. – alive who brings a $3,076 ticket down on a fellow student/party aficionado. (Obviously, the man who gets caught is no pro.)
And kids, drunken-style: If you do get stopped and questioned by the police, lying is risky business. If they find out – which they are incontinence-inducingly clever about – a simple citation turns into a night in jail. If you get away with it, they might just take your thumbprint with them on their part of the ticket for shits and giggles anyway. Just for kicks.
Remember also that the police are not always just out to get you. Being straightforward and cooperative is the best way to go for those without the cojones to straight-up run. Which also works occasionally – just eye the copper on you, look for a gut, estimate his speed. If you run, run through alleys and cut-throughs. Know your area.
But this is risky. Extremely so. Possibly more so than taking your chances on being accosted by a decent-hearted cop. This summer, there was a party at 6540 DP on a Sunday night with pretty loud music ’til about 45 minutes after the ordinance took effect. ‘Til some cop strolled up.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Oh, yes. Sunday, isn’t it? Sorry about that.” The Wild Turkey flask (275 mL) in my hand didn’t exactly fill me with confidence, ironically.
“You guys don’t need a ticket, do you?”
“No, no, we’ll totally shut it off right now. Thanks, officer! Have a good night!”
Cops ain’t all bad.
Back to the parties. Control the crowd. Pretend to regulate. Man on the door at all times. Run shifts. Bring the door guy, who is of course of legal drinking age, all the beer he desires. Just keep someone there. It is the only way to keep the police from raining ruin and shame upon you and your loved ones, to keep them from being able to traipse into your groove-factory and end the love. If the party is in a house, this isn’t difficult. Watch the door. Absolutely cannot stress this enough.
And, if all this fails and you still get pounded with a fat ticket, show up for court! Tell them you have no money. They’ll work with you on this. Payment plans are much better than having a warrant out for your arrest. Unless you’re planning to leave the state soon.
Daily Nexus columnist Cory Anthony will be fleeing California and his legal/financial woes at the year’s end.