When the third world hits it'll be innocuous enough, i mean, you probably won't even notice it, you'll be doing the shit you normally do and then boom, you all of the sudden find yourself in a fucked up situation; like your friend quietly saying he's not going back to jail as he speeds up while y'all get pulled over, or a dude walking up at three AM and asking casually what size shoes you wear or -in this case- being locked in a house with police politely informing you that they are about to break the door down if someone doesn't open it RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW. Of course, in order for this to be a normal situation gone awry you have to be a pretty cutty motherfucker, which I am, i must be in order to write this week after week. I bring you, the reader the taste and feel of the cut without you having to risk a hair on your head. Meanwhile my ID is getting passed around more cops hands than an a racist joke down at the station. No, no, I'm not being charged with anything, they're just looking, just making sure. I recall how this situation started, it seems so long ago....
47th and caswell 11/26 ATX- it's some one's birthday, or in fact it's a lot of people's birthday, but it's someone in specific's house. Rebecca... it's fairly modest, there's two kegs and a bunch of would-be gangsters talking shit along with the platinum blond teens and overgrown boys wearing faded rock t-shirts. pretty faces, for pretty bodies, with perfect hair and thee latest clothes, everyone's outside and acting like it's cold, which it isn't really, not yet. so we're all just having a good time when the cops roll up. This has become something of a mystery to me lately, although I understand why they do it. The police come up and say there has been a noise complaint even though it is obvious that no noise complaint has been filed. It's part of the general policy that a bunch of people can't get together outside a bar and just drink for no other reason that to drink. I call it "anti-buzz" enforcement. So we are all moved to the back yard and told to be quiet. Like lambs to the slaughter.
Literally, like 10 minutes later the cops are back in force. they start ID-ing people and handing out tickets left and right, people are trying to sneak away but they can't people are running, jumping fences but the cops have the entire thing locked down. No way out but in... for some reason it seems like a really good idea for us to all go inside and lock the door, so we do, and there are so many minors you'd think the keg was full of gold. Now the pretty girls are looking nervous and the thugs and jocks are making humorous, tepid little comments about going back to jail and how they don't care, their bravado riding like a tattered flag in the air. Those above age (myself included) don't give a fuck, we're not doing anything wrong, so we begin to down the frothy mixture which got us into this mess in the first place. Tension is thick. A few escape attempts are made vis-a-vis a sympathetic neighbor and the dog run. The knocking gets louder and a girl begins to bawl. Negotiations are made. The TABC arrives. Heads will roll. Finally, someone opens the door against the postulate made by a high school drop-out that they have no right to enter, which many agree with. The keg is unceremoniously dumped, and it breaks my heart to see it, but i know that if i claim my love i will be charged with contributing. The minors are put in a long line and ID-ed one at a time. The whole thing borders on tedium. I am quite literally almost too drunk to keep my eyes open.
Soon enough i get turned loose and walk out to see the wreckage of the evening. There are MIPs flashing yellow and blue against the search lights. They brought out the police helicopter. Someone is calling my name because they're calling her parents,and all i can say is "stiff upper lip". They're trying to show us there's a new boss in town, and for the kids it might have worked, but me, i know this city couldn't change even if it wanted to. We couldn't make a fresh start even if we tried.