My New Acquaintance: Officer Friendly

Published April 8, 2008

By Sam Theodosopoulos

The drive was long and tedious, 89 seemed to stretch on forever. The family Subaru Forester was filled to the brim with suitcases and boxes of all my worldly possessions.

“Now, Sam,” my mother said, “this is the time when you make your lifelong friends. So associate accordingly, take notice of the company you keep.” I am sure this was in reference to my high school rap sheet: caught stealing from the liquor cabinet, ripping bowls in the house, beers left in the fridge, vodka bottles under my bed. You know, the normal high school shenanigans that parents tend to overreact about. Anyway, she went on to say how this was the time when I should “find myself” (I was never very fond of that phrase) by getting involved. Now I completely agree, and I have gotten involved by playing a club sport and joining a few clubs, but that doesn’t mean I am going to abandon my old habits. I mean, what the hell did she really expect?

Thankfully, I met a solid group ofkids and through sports met even more,so making friends was not an issue. However, I did make one whom I would rather have never been introduced to.

It was a Friday night and I was walking up Main Street after a night of debauchery downtown somewhere on Pearl or Loomis.

When I passed the Davis Center, I thought I was good since I was on the home stretch. Apparently Officer Friendly had other plans. Flashing lights raced down Main and she pulled up next to me.

“Sir what have you had to drink tonight?”

“Nothing,” I said (probably a little curtly).

“Will you take a breathalyzer?”
“Absolutely not,” I replied (smirking because even though I was intoxicated I knew my rights).

Well, unfortunately for me, she performed a field sobriety test on me and decided I wasn’t fit to be left unsupervised. When I asked if I could just walk back to my room, she replied with a solid “NO” and hauled me off to the Four C’s Motel (Chittenden County Correctional Center). The drunk tank was an experience in itself especially when you wake up with a 28-year-old man named Roberto sleeping above you. But that’s another story (actually one that got turned down by this newspaper).

The next time Ms. Officer Friendly came into my bright shining life was about a month ago. My friends and I decided it would be a brilliant idea to smoke a joint in the room. In retrospect, we shouldn’t have been such lazy fucks and gotten off our asses and blazed outside. We thought we had the system down to a science, and therefore couldn’t be caught by the authorities (the “system” basically meant spraying a lot of Febreeze). Needless to say, a familiar odor began to fume from my room and all the Febreeze in the world couldn’t cover it up.

Moments later, we heard a woman knock on my door and her words made our hearts stop: “UVM Police, Open Up.” My two friends hid in the beds while I proceeded to open the door.

“We’ve met before haven’t we?” She asked.

I reluctantly nodded my head.

“May I come in sir?”

No, “You can’t,” I said. (I smiled curtly again knowing my rights).

She opened the door and saw one of my friend’s feet hanging out and entered the room and also found my other friend.

Needless to say, she was not impressed with my “stand up guy” mantra and charged me with obstructing an investigation. My friend then gave her his zig zags that were in HIS pocket and she charged ME with possession of paraphernalia.

This seems ridiculous to me because by this same accord if someone in your room has a switchblade in his back pocket YOU are in possession of it. At any rate, I hope I do not meet Ms. Officer Friendly again or it’s suspension for me.

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