After my last post, I decided to fill you guys in on my jail stories, since a few of you seem curious. Let me begin by saying I have only been to jail twice, not three times, so that was the false fact about me. Not that ONLY twice is something to brag about...
First time, I was 21 years old, and had just returned from South Texas where I had helped my boyfriend pack up and move home (he went to college down there). We went over to Mexico (about a 10 minute drive from where he lived) to look around and shop, and I wanted to get some liquor because it's super cheap over there. Well he had the bright idea to go into one of the millions of "pharmacies" (I use that term loosely because they sell everything without prescriptions) and purchase some medicines. People in my hometown were big into taking Xanax, Valium, and painkillers and spacing out at parties (the allure of this, I'll never know), and DAB (dumbass boyfriend) thought we should get some of them so he could sell them for a profit, since there was such a demand for them at the time. I was stupid and didn't tell him that was a really bad idea. (I WAS only 21...)
So we get the pills, and get in my car to drive back across the border. I had bottles of pills in my bra and in my knee-high boots under my jeans just in case we got searched... thank goodness I did that, because as soon as we crossed the bridge back into the U.S. the border patrol motions us to the side of the road to search my car. (Apparently, young people go across the border all the time to score prescription-free meds, and obviously that is illegal). So they search my car, take out panels on the sides of my consoles, go through backpacks, luggage, EVERYTHING, but don't actually search our bodies (thank God).
So, we get back and go to a huge party that Friday night, and DAB's selling Xanax like hotcakes for $5 apiece. I was off enjoying the legal intoxication of the keg, and didn't know that he put the bottle of pills in my purse once he was done being Mr. Salesman of the year. Fast forward to the next day... I meet a couple of girlfriends to tan, have lunch, and shop at the mall to find an outfit to wear out to the club that night. Little did I know, my friend shoplifted panties from Victoria's Secret, and then my other friend stole a shirt from JC Penney. What idiots. As we were leaving JCP, the security guards stopped us and asked us to come with them. I was clueless at this point, and was all, WTF do we have to do that for, and they informed me that the security cameras caught one of us shoplifting and they needed to search our bags. When we get to the back, they find the shirt and panties on my friends, and nothing on me. Well, the cops had already been called, and when they got there they re-searched us all.
And that's when they found the pills in my purse. I had no idea they were there, and then it went off like a lightbulb that DAB must have put them in there the night before. There were a total of 54 pills in the bottle, so obviously it looked like I was a drug dealer. I of course tried to explain, but I knew there was no way out of this, it was so obvious what it LOOKED like. So, one friend and I got cuffed and escorted THROUGH THE MALL (not embarrasing at all) out to the waiting cop cars, and taken to the pokey. (The other friend got to leave, because the panties she had were less than $50, and not a misdemeanor).
Once we get to the jail, they make us strip down, and squat and cough to make sure there was nothing, um, hidden. That was the most mortifying moment of my life, lemme tell ya. We had a phone in our cell, and we were the only ones in it, thank goodness, so we kept calling our other friend, who had promised to come back and get us. I finally get ahold of her, and the bitch is at her HOUSE, taking a BATH, and getting ready to go out to the club!! I yelled and cursed at her for everything she was worth, then hung up and called DAB. He says he'll be there in less than an hour, and he did as promised... but had my parents with him because he couldn't come up with bail for both of us. That was an awesome ride home.
I ended up having 6 months probation, 100 hours community service, and a drug awareness class. And I had a curfew, which meant I couldn't leave my house before 6AM and had to be in by 9PM. I lived with my parents at the time, therefore they strictly enforced the curfew. I also had to go to weekly probation meetings with the bitchiest woman probation officer in the world, and get drug tested (peeing in a cup in front of a woman officer, again, mortifying) and couldn't drink alcohol. Let's just say I learned my lesson. Thank goodness I got deferred judication, which means it's not on my permanent record. That's one of the things I'm most grateful for, because I doubt I'd be employed with the company I am now if that showed up on my criminal record.
Moral of the story: don't hang out with theiving bitches and/or boyfriends who want to be frat-boy drug dealers. You could end up in jail, naked and coughing in front of the large lady cop who looks like she likes girls...
**I'll post about my second jail experience later... this one went on a little longer than I thought it would.**