Jail isn’t just for criminals.
It is also for people that drank slightly too much, but also have a penchant for talking to random people regardless of their sobriety…including police.
My friend (let’s call him “Raven”) makes friends wherever he goes. He has befriended ladies partying a bit past their prime, and then gave them nicknames after flowers (“Daisy” and “Daffodil”). He has broke it down with a lady with brittle bones.
To put it simply: Raven could probably fill a football stadium with the random people he has encountered.
However, this weekend, Raven met random people not by choice. He was arrested for Public Intoxication and, according to the police report, Resistance to Arrest.In reality, Raven was in line for a cab, chatting as usual, and accidentally cut line. The next thing he knew: He was in handcuffs and ended up cruising with criminals rather than connecting with fellow cabgoers.
Raven was supposed to stay at my apartment, but we thought he’d gone home with another friend. I woke up in the morning to see that I missed several calls from an 866 area code. My friend (let’s call her “Taylor”) called me shortly after to tell me that Raven had a sleepover in the slammer.
My other friend (let’s call him “Stevie”) and I were in charge of the criminal caper. We drove to the jail at 9AM, thinking we’d get Raven out before breakfast.
The ladies at the jail, unfortunately, told us another tale. Raven still had to wait for court, so we couldn’t see him for about another 1.5 hours. Stevie and I, who both enjoy eating more than anything, decided to break for breakfast.
When we came back, the ladies at the jail cell said that Raven must have been mouthy to the judge because, unless we shelled out $600, Raven would be in jail until his next court date: May 24th. [Sidenote: Raven was not mouthy. Rather, he accidentally pled “Not Guilty,” which apparently is a guaranteed stay until bail. Who knew?!]
Although Raven would have probably made a plethora of friends after 3 weeks is prison, Stevie and I were pretty certain he wouldn’t want to spend his vacation days with drug lords. We needed to get him out, but, unfortunately didn’t have the money on hand to do so. Stevie and I went on an adventure to several bail bond places. All were closed, except for one that smelled like the Marlboro man’s mancave.
Someone released Raven before we could break it down with the bail bondsman.
Stevie and I made it back to jail to get out Raven at around 2. Little did we know, we would see several sights for sore eyes. There were five African-American girls who were released right before Raven. They were 30+, but dressed in clothes as tight as Snooki but about half the hemline. However, they had a body more like Mo’Nique.
They also were not wearing underwear. Let’s just say we peered more than a little Plumber’s crack.
Raven came out, more than ready to be released. We left, shortly after Stevie and I had a lovely little conversation with a (former and likely future) criminal:
FALFC: “Hey, can I have a ride?”
Stevie: “No, sorry sir.”
FALFC: “But it’s just down the road.”
Stevie: “Um. No, sorry.”
FALFC: “Man. Ugh. Whatever.”
Although I love meeting random people, there was no way that I was about end up as the star of a future True Life episode “I Helped a Hitchhiker.” However, I wouldn’t be surprised if the posse of female prisoners we peered at starred on that episode and added the ellipsis “..and Now I’m hitched.”
Have you ever picked someone up from prison?