Reprimand(s) #1 – February, 2005: The Drunk Tank and Community Service
Highlights from my arrest, “the tank” and community service:
- Cuffed and chatting* with the young officer en route to jail, I BRIEFLY considered offering him sexual favors if he’d just let me go.** I said brief, people. It was like “I wonder if…” and then a half-second later I heard my OROD’s voice say in my head “don’t be an idiot, Pixie” and that was the end of that.
- Shared the drunk tank with a tweeker who kept banging her head on the concrete wall, biting her tongue till it bled and who I graciously allowed to braid my hair to pass the time.
- Sought refuge in a corner as two women came close to brawling over the barely private toilet stall.
- Upon my release, being the sentimental person that I am, I asked if I could keep my inmate tags they cut off my wrist. The woman behind the glass window gave me disapproving eyes and I sheepishly bid her farewell, never thinking I’d find myself there again. You know what happened next. Just a mere couple hours later, I drank, got behind the wheel again, got pulled over and drove away with a warning. Un-frickin-believable.
Oh yeah, I mentioned community service. This experience was pretty uneventful. The only memory worth mentioning from my time in the orange vest was the small exchange I had with the supervising officer on day 1 and it went a little something like this:
Officer: Alright ya’ll, grab your gloves and let’s get to work.
Me: Shoot, I need gloves? I didn’t bring any.
Officer: You came to community service with no gloves? How many days you got?
Me: um, 2?
Officer: That’s all? Hey everybody! White girl here only has 2 days.
Me: (in my head) oh no, now I have a target on my back.
(Eye roll) So dramatic. Know what, I’m gonna say it: That’s some racist, judgmental, white privalege bullshit right there. All of it. On MY part. I mean, wow. Shame on me!