The Meetings

30 and 31 October 2008

I have a knack for meeting various acquaintances in strange places.  I was looking for a job back when I was 19, and I thought, landscaping that seems like one of those jobs every kid should do at some point. A rite of passage of sorts, I suppose you learn manual labor sucks, and you go to college.  So, I make a few phone calls leaving messages on various answering machines looking for work.  As a congratulatory measure I head to my favorite little computer shop to pick up some silly game, and being that I was the only customer this guy ever had, I mean seriously I never saw another soul in this store. He mentioned a friend who had a landscaping company, and was looking for help.  I got the job, and as the time passed in turned out he knew my father (small Massachusetts towns)   So, I worked with him, and his son for 3 months before leaving to work framing homes (I have always had ADD).

3 Years later, I am persuaded to go to a strip club, twice.  I hate strip clubs, but I was 21 and not knowing I hated strip clubs it seemed like an experience.  I go with a friend for the second time and the porn star “Houston” is there to dance.  I do not recall all the details (got to love $9 beer night) I do recall cupcakes, and my head being pummeled by various body parts covered in pieces of cupcake.  Hey, I never said I was a saint.  I sit back down with my friend who laughing to the point of tears, a minute later I feel a tap on my shoulder.  As I turn around I find my ex employer, who after 3 years remembered me somewhere during the antics.  He is laughing even harder making various jokes at my expense.  I used to have a picture from the faithful evening but somewhere in growing up I threw it out.  Fast forward another 2-3 years, I am in court facing my first DUI charge, and who is there?  His son who is having a case dismissed, I do not mention seeing his dad in a strip club. 

Today I go to visit my P.O. (probation officer) and as I collect my things from the metal detector, I hear “hey Kaz”.  I look up to find, no not my ex employer, but an ex employee.  It took me 15 minutes to figure out who he was, playing along until it clicked.  I hired him and a friend of his about a year ago; he worked for me for a few months before he pulled a no show.  We chatted a bit, and turns out he was there having a case dismissed, why are my cases never being dismissed? 

 

I get to the probation department which is run sort of strange. You a) tell the woman behind the desk who you are there to see B) you sign in C) you call your PO using a phone mounted in the far opposite corner.  Why do they have a receptionist is my only question?  Why tell her who you are seeing she doesn’t do anything except tell you to call your PO.  I end up learning a lot about stupidity and bureaucracy as the day progress. 

 

Eventually the PO comes out and in a defensive, angry voice tells me to walk down the hall and gives directions while she is following behind which apparently is the protocol.  I guess they think us convicts might jump our PO’s in a federal building?  I suppose to an extent it makes sense but the PO is supposed to be on my side right?  So I get into the office, and she says to sit in the corner chair.  The room has 4 corners, and there are chairs in 2 of the corners, I choose the wrong corner and was surprised I was not tasered.  As she corrects me, I notice a piece of paper taped on the wall above the other chair that says “corner chair”.  I had to suppress laughter; it seems ridiculous to me that she took the time to print the tag.  This is in addition to the absurdity that she feels there is a need for the chair to be labeled.  As I sit down I notice that the chair I almost sat in is labeled “time out chair”.  I can not make this shit up, I searched but a “dunce cap” was not to be located or labeled.  There ware also printed rules on the wall about “How to take a time out”.  I encourage anyone who knows why to correct me but, but a time out really?  I can not see myself saying “I need a time out”, but maybe I am just not an angry guy.

 She breaks out my file and the paperwork starts, with the same questions I had answered a minimum of 4 times before.  I have answered the same various questions while being brought to intake, when I got transferred to “transition” again when I entered “work release”, and when I went to the probation office in Boulder on my first ay of job search.  Someone can not devise a program that takes all this information I filled out 5 times, and have it passed along from one person to another?  So, yes here we go again… name, age etc.  Then the drug/alcohol questions… AGAIN.

 PO: “Ever smoke pot?”

Me: “Yes”

PO: “When was the last time?’

Me:  “I don’t know, 21?”

PO:  “Says here 22”

 

She is looking at the sheet I filled out over a month ago.

 

Me:  “If you are looking at the sheet I filled out before, why are you filling out another

          copy?”

PO:  “To make sure you aren’t lying”

Me:  “Maybe it was 22; it was 8 years ago, what were you doing 8 years ago?”

 She looks as though she could use a time out at this point.  So, we go through the paperwork which I stare at now. I have 6 copies of the same exact piece of paper signed 6 different times showing my charges and court fees… WHY?  I suppose if I loose the first 5, and have an extra grand in my pocket, I can take the 6^th and be able to pay!  One if the copies has a huge “Defendants copy” stamped on it so it looks super cool.  She did say I “appeared to be telling the truth” bas I was finishing up.  I am glad I did tell the truth, I would be afraid to se what she would tag on if I had appeared to be lying.  I am amazed she did not put me to polygraph, hope she doesn’t read this, might get some more ideas.

 We go through the bit, and I get more things tagged on to my sentence.  24 hours of alcohol classes, at 2 hour sessions once a week.  The classes are fair, but at $30 bucks a class you also need the corresponding book at $20 to take the class. After my first 12 weeks (providing I don’t miss any) I can then begin “therapy” 68 hours at the same situation.  Yes, there is another $20 book, and every session is $30.  This is not real therapy mind you this is in a group, which from talking to other people it’s basically an AA meeting where they charge and take attendance.  I found out about the classes today while the guy tries to get me to do my daily breathalyzers there instead of where I am having them done. He forgets to mention their hours are worse, they are 2 blocks away from my current place, and charge $0.50 more each time.  50 cents what is the big deal right?  At 365 times doing this, that’s an additional $180 for doing the same exact procedure.  Don’t get me started on they charge $1.50 for a 25 second process start to finish.  He then mentions in an upbeat tone if I blow through this it only takes 11 ½ MONTHS to complete!   

 I also apparently have random UA’s (urine annalists) too which at $15 a go this is turning into an expense proposition, freedom has a steep price!  Luckily I love peeing in a cup, or else I would be depressed. Then there is another $200 in fees, and to start my community service costs $100.  I am going to start a tally on how much this is costing me, which I will post. 

 I then head downstairs to set up a payment plan to pay my court fees, which apparently the woman who does that works 2 days a week, so I went back today and set up paying of the $896 I owe in court fees.  I then go to the agency which I report to for probation confused? Me too!  My PO is no longer my PO instead I report to a non profit court service place for probation who have guess… just guess…. more paperwork!! I start going over the same FUCKING questions as before!!  Since they are not a state agency, they don’t get my previous answers!!  Now I completely understand the time out chair.  After, filling out the same questions rephrased a bit for the 6^th time, I get to set up an appointment to start my probation, I shit you not. 

 I implore Microsoft to come up with a program where you slide a card, and all this shit pops up for them, please!  We have phones which I more powerful than the best computers from 10 years ago, but for some reason there are a thousand pieces of paper necessary for the world to know about my DUI.  Seems like such a waste of everyone’s time, I have filled out “scars and tattoos” 4 times, in addition to verbally answering twice.  Damn I want a new tattoo, before my issue was the cost now I don’t want to have to fill out all the paperwork. 

 I then went to the leasing office and have to fill out a bunch of paperwork to move OUT of the apartment.  Luckily the new tires for my bike arrived and 3 cases of GU.  I was also informed I need to give 30 days notice to cancel my garage lease, so if anyone needs a garage for a month swing by put your crap in mine, all I have in there is a bike pump, and my second set of climbing shoes.

I have an itemized bill, but for some reason it will not post, to date I have paid $485.00 if fees etc.  This is paid out, not what I owe.  A cab ride seems pretty cheap now folks huh?   

The interview

29 October 2008

 I have a deep hatred toward buses, it started as a child.  While everyone else went to drivers education, got their drivers license and cars, I was busy working and took the bus to school.  I remember wanting a bike instead of a car around the age of 16, I got neither just a bunch of crap from my family when I needed a ride.   I turned 18 which according to MA law you can get a license without drivers education, so I got my permit, took the test a few days afterwards, and have driven both sober, and drunk ever since. 

When I turned 21 I bought myself a truck, and came home.  Now, my father and I at some point ha d a falling out of sorts around this time.  I never told him about the truck, and let him assume it was a company vehicle.  He actually ran the plates to find out it was my truck, who does that? 

A few years later I decided to take some time off and head to Ireland for a few weeks.  This turned into a few months, and someday I will delve into how that al happened.  In Ireland the only way to get around was by bus, and I got accustomed to 13 hour bus rides.  The schedule always seemed to under estimate the traveling time by a few hours or so it seemed.  Even though I took the trip from Galway to Derry 10 times the estimated travel time of 7 hours was always 10 or more.  Since my faithful days in Eire I have travelled either by car or bike, but never by bus.  Something about a bus strikes me as poor, guess what folks, I AM POOR!  Needless to say today it was with quite a bit trepidation that I stepped onto the mighty steed.  Combined with my knack of making plans, and then dreading them when the time comes, which then require me to cancel last minute it was pretty amazing I got on the bus. 

The reason for the bus trip goes as such.  Yesterday, I received a phone call as I was sitting upon the throne contemplating world events when I receive a phone call.  I answer, and though I have a basic idea what this is about, I am 80% in the dark.  As most of you know in the past 2 months I have applied for jobs ranging from telemarketer to cooks, to Pedi cab driver.  Combined with the fact I have been applying in Longmont, Boulder, and Denver I was pretty lost as to which application he we were discussing.  I fumble through the call, trying to get key data, it turns out I emailed my resume two months ago to a Craigslist ad, which did not state the company name in the ad.  As the call progress’ we set up an interview for today, and I casually ask “where are you located?”  Turns out to be Denver, which is good since I want to move down in a month.  I get off the phone, look at the map for their location and start trying to figure out the travel situation.  With the revocation of my driving privileges the jaunt to Denver is a little more involved then starting the car.   

How the hell do I get to Denver?  A 40 mile bike ride is always good, but not a great impression when you show up stinking and sweating right?  Here in Colorado trains are for cargo, not people.  Jumping a train does sound like fun but probably not the best idea since I am working with a time table.  The lovely bus seems like the only option, I then begin considering postponing until Monday.  I soon recognized I am 30; I really need to step up to the plate and hop on the bus to do the interview

Marc on the bus 

I ride on the bus into the city everyday

I sit on the seat and dream myself away

I dream I’m was on an island with that foxy lady too

But when awaken I must be mistaken I am off at avenue.

 

Got to love the beastie boys!  I geared up my strength, swallowed my pride, and made my way to catch the bus.  I get into Denver an hour later, and pass my resume off to a courier.  I so want to be a bike messenger, chicks dig them, and they are so cool. I then go riding through town, with a general idea where the shop is, and after consulting a map I find the shop.  I walk in and state I am absurdly early for my interview.  Hey, I was nervous about the whole bus thing and left a little prematurely.  Unfortunately, no one is around to do the interview, what to o for the next 90 minutes.  The shop like most is not in downtown, so not much to do except sit in Starbucks and kill time.  Thank you to everyone who texted me while I was killing time.  The interview went great, and well long at 2 hours.

The shop is sort of small 10 guys, with 3 in the office. Seems a lot like a shop I ran years ago in Norwood, easy going crew.  The shop features flexible time, benefits, decent pay, and the ability to work on a wide range of projects.  The equipment is nice, and everyone gets their own station, and completes their own projects from start to finish.  This is great thing since you don’t have to start after someone else did something in a manner you do not agree with.  Also, at the end of the project the end result is yours good or bad.  The owner was quite taken by my resume (thank you Skippy) and offered me the job.

Having a job is quite the relief; I have been a bum for 2 months now, but having a job prior to moving to Denver feels great.  I suppose my plan of skipping town and living on my bike will have to wait.  Oh, I am serious that was plan “b” selling everything but my bike, and head south. At some point turning myself in for probation violation and receiving 1-2 years. Why?  With no job prospects or money, seems like free room and board is not a bad idea.  A discussion for another time, but jail breeds habitual criminals since getting over the exit hump of having no money home etc is tough, jail is easy. 

I left the shop elated, riding around the city with even more joy than I typical.  I then realize I have to do the bus commute until I get a place in Denver.  Then using Jedi mind tricks I turned the bus ride into the train ride I took for 2 years while going to school in Boston.  It will give me more time to read, yeah so it will be good (it worked years ago why not now?).

So I start the new job on Tuesday, I will have full reports forthcoming.

 

 

 

 

 

I remember now....

Happened: November 2001

7 years ago, nearly to the day, I had my first DUI, at the time I was going to school in Boston. Each day I left for school at 6 am, spend 10 hours there, and usually would head out for a beer with classmates. Now, considering my behavior of all or nothing after a few weeks this leads into going out nearly every night. Being that I am not working, living with my father, I am poor, not as poor as I am now but still poor. So, this faithful day I drive into school, illegally park and somehow not get a ticket, I then head out to a show. My logic at the time was I did not eat all day since money can be exchanged for beer that night. So all day I think I ate a piece of bread, and maybe some Pringles (I had a thing for Pringles back in the day).

That night I head to Alston to see Meat Depressed (Boston punk band) and line up a deal where if I sell t-shirts for them they will get me in free, and toss me a couple of beers… combined with the few dollars I have, equals good fun. You combined these factors with an empty stomach, and you have the makings of getting really drunk. So, I park in a shady spot where it clearly states you will be towed, but clearly they will not tow me right? I head into the bar and I forget most of the details other than the beers were flowing, and I lost my favorite sweater ever! It was brown and made me look like a sheep, and I lived in it while in Ireland… so sad. So, I am selling t-shirts, drinking mighty, mighty pints of the luscious juices of god himself…. Yes god’s man juice is Guinness... PROVEN FACT.

I go to leave, now it is not closing, the show is not over… I am really drunk at this point I am in the gray area, looking back I do not know why I left. People I have talked to that night, including the bands whose t-shirt stand I stranded and had 40 dollars of their money in my pocket do not know why I left either. Some where in my mind something clicked and said time to go home… I leave and my truck is not towed, what luck I am having huh? Not quite.

I hit the tolls at the mass pike and I recognize I am wasted… WHEN? When the toll both worker asks “are you alright?” my response is “me is good” This roughly translates from drunk into English as “My dear woman, this is my lucky day, the birds are singing and the world is a beautiful place. May all your dreams come true.” I then pull out onto 128, and I remember it clear as day, I am coming down past Natick, past the radio towers, and into Needham highlands, cruising along there is a right bend as you go under abridge for the Dedham/Needham exit, this when I wake up!

As I cross lane number 2, and recognize cruise control does not steer, and unlike Colorado the roads aren’t straight. The state trooper in the grassy knoll of the exit seems to think my driving is due to alcohol, and not drowsiness, silly state trooper. So, I notice a crazy flashing of lights behind me, it’s about 1 am, a weeknight, and no one else on the road. I think he’ll pass…. That’s odd two other lanes are wide open no traffic and he is not passing me, could he want to speak to me? I reach the top of the hill, and being the sober driver I am I pull into a little truck rest area right across the street from the jail, those of you who love literature would call this “foreshadowing” I call it shit! So, it appears the state trooper is not lost looking for directions; he actually wants to ask me a few questions.

Cop: “Sir, have you been drinking?”

Me: “I might have had one or two”

Cop: “Step out of the vehicle”

Me: (Thinking, oh shit)

Cop: “Close your eyes extend your arms; touch the tip of a finger to your nose.”
Me: (Thinking, piece of cake)

The questioning gets increasingly difficult until…

Cop: “Recite the alphabet”

Me: “You really should have learned that in grade school”

Ok, all of us know a few cops they are you neighbor, or on your softball team. Cops can be fun when off duty, some have senses of humor. They may even regal us with a joke from time to time. Apparently they are not so much fun on a traffic stop. So, I sort of laugh, and begin thinking, the alphabet, really?

Me: “a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p, h i j k l m n o p”

This is followed by perplexed looks from me, the trooper, and the second trooper who showed up a few seconds earlier. I am starting to think maybe I did have a few to many. Being the jovial guy he is the cop offers me a second chance.

Cop: “Want to try that again?’

Me: “Yes”

Me: “a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p, h i j k l m n o p”

I could NOT say the alphabet! This was not the crazy backwards alphabet, the German alphabet, no! The same one on the keyboard I type this on… YES THAT ALPHABET!! I am led to the back of his car, and things are looking like maybe it was not my lucky day. He starts driving me to headquarters, and passes my exit.

Me: “Dude, you just missed my exit, you are getting such a crappy tip”

This like my previous joke does not go over well. He gives me a dirty look and speeds up rather abruptly. For those of you who has never felt the subtle feeling of hard steel behind your back. Imagine: you are leaning forward to keep the weight off the sharp edges off the cuffs which are ALWAYS put on to tight. The acceleration of a vehicle transfers weight into back right onto the cuffs. Simple math where V = forward acceleration

V = OUCH MY FUCKING WRISTS!!

I get to the jail house, and start doing the booking process. I notice I need to go to the bathroom, which he apparently takes this as an invitation to watch. So, here I am holding my pride and joy in my hands, while he stands beside me. I could not pee, so I asked him to turn on the water. I still can not pee, so I zip back up, and complain, he does not care. I guess the frisking, the fact that they flush the toilet NOT you is still not enough for them to let you piss in peace. I am asked to blow into a little contraption .16 not too bad, twice the limit. I then call home dialing my father… my dad is a cop… he is not going to like this news. I hang up and call my sister, she will not like the news either, but she is more understanding.

The next morning I awake late, figure I get a day off from school for this right? When I hear my sister and father talking downstairs.

Dad: “Where is John’s truck?”

Deb: “I am not sure, you should talk to him”

I go back to bed.

On the fields of Antenry

December 2000

Once upon a time, in a country far, far away… I was living in Ireland, and on my travels back to the US, I stopped in Edinburgh for a week. At this point I had lost my wallet, was down to about 100 sterling, no credit cards, or ID, but I did have a ticket to see Glasgow Celtic play. Being the intelligent, and responsible person I am, I contemplate I can either eat for the week, or just have a great time at the game. So, I live off loafs of bread, to save for bear money for the big day, also a little effort got me a overnight bus ride to London for my return flight THUS saving me a nights accommodation. So, the day of the match comes, I take the train out to Glasgow, and start heading towards the stadium at 9 am, for a 4 pm match, this will only lead to a great day. At this point, EVERY pub is completely packed, got to love the Scottish! I end up making my way into the pub, and meet a couple of guys, and next thing we are doing shots of a nasty concoction which I can only explain as cough syrup. It tasted, and looked the part, and packed quite a wallop for the pound that it cost. We are drinking, and being merry while singing, and well being drunk. A mere 6 hours later we all start piling out of the pubs to go to the stadium, the scene was fantastic, this was a “meaningless” game, nothing special but the game was sold out, 90% of the stadium wearing green and white, with a little quarantined section for Aberdeen fans. For those who think sports are crazy in the US you need to go experience games outside of the states. This little Aberdeen fan section is lined on all 4 sides by police, mind you, Aberdeen and Celtic are not rivals. To draw a comparison this is the equivalent of the Red Sox, playing the Dodgers, no one really cares; it is a game, not a rivalry. It’s a wild spectacle, and I would describe more, if I could for the life of my remember anything. I remember sitting in the nosebleeds, wasted, going absolutely NUTS! I do remember swinging a scarf over my head while screaming at the top of my lungs… yes I was the ugly, drunken American. I am sure I was a lot of fun to watch though, and I made it out alive so it is all good. After, the game what is there to do? Yes, DRINK. So, I head out to another pub, and meet up with a couple of guys, we are drinking and head to another pub. At this point I have spent maybe 12 hours in Glasgow EVER, 4 of which I was sober, and doing the tourist thing, the rest was on this faithful day. So, we go into another pub, and proceed to drink heavily. I look at the time, and its 12 midnight, I run out of the pub O.J. Simpson style bolting drunkenly across the city, trying to find the train station! Now, being a guy, I can’t ask for directions since that would a) make sense b) take too long since running around aimlessly is fast. Eventually I get to the train station trying to catch the last train, which has to be about 1 am right? Looking at the DIGITAL clock I recognize, it is not midnight, its 10 pm, apparently this night I would not have passed a field sobriety test if they gave me a watch and asked me the time. At his point I figure, I can go try to find the pub again, or just call it a night, I did the smart thing, and I head back to Edinburgh. I hope on the train, which is deserted except for two cute girls, now I am bad at picking up women, but now imagine me reeking of alcohol, sweat, and slurred speech trying to sweet talk to girls; it was comical that I am sure. I get back to town, and stumble to the hostile I am staying in, and go to the living room. Now, being the social drunk I am, I start talking to EVERYONE in the room. Everything is going great; they might have realized I was a little drunk, or very drunk. So, a cute Aussie girl mentions she is going to the movie room. I have been staying in this place for 4 days; I just learned there is a MOVIE ROOM!?!?! I head down with her, and the room was quite cool. The room consists of big screen TV and 15 couches, no windows, the perfect movie room, plus an extensive collection of movies. I am sitting on a couch, and she is on another beside me, and I feel someone touching my arm. I look and she is gently touching my arm. I would love to blame this on the alcohol, in reality I am just a moron. I move my arm, and there is the touching again, I now move my arm onto the arm rest, and again touching. So, I move my hand to my lap, makes complete sense right? A few minutes pass, and she says “I look tired” now being the drunkard that I am I am thinking I am getting kicked out of a pub or something so I reply with “no, I am sound.” This goes on 4 or 5 times until…yes light hits me I begin to put two and two together, the touching the “your tired you should go to bed” I think this girl is into me. So, I finally agree, where she gets up, and leaves, I head out a few minutes later (hostels are rumor mills after all ;) She is waiting in the hall, asks me what room I am staying in, and says she will meet me there in 10 I got to my room, and I now have a ROOMMATE! I stayed in the hostile for a week, and only one night do I have someone else in the rom. So, I try to figure out how to handle this, he is not in the room currently, and I have NO CLUE who he is, so finding him and giving him a heads up is not possible. I move to the bunk below him thinking if I hang a sheet, he won’t be able to se anything right? Ok, I am drunken idiot. The girl comes up one thing leads to another…. And the roommate enters. He being far more intelligent than I recognizes what is going on turns off the light apologizes and says he will be back in an hour. He returns, we are not done, he apologizes grabs his showering gear to give us another 20 minutes… he returns, and we are not done. He says he has got to get some sleep, and hopes onto the bunk. Now, my mind is wondering how long do I have to wait before getting back to the task at hand… yes I am an ass. I wait about 5 minutes. Now, being that I was young, and had not been with a women inn a few months… I was in rare form. We end up going to bed around 3am; she awakes around 5 for another round, and then leaves. The roommate hops down moments later, and unleashes a series of insults and swears, in a kiwi wit. Apparently, he was flying back today, and was trying to sleep all night, but with the giggling, and the rickety bed, it was impossible. So, the poor bastard had to endure hours of listening to a drunken yank whisper sweet nothings into a girls ear. Looking back I almost feel sorry, but it was a good day for me.