As I have mentioned several times before, mostly because I can’t get over being excited about it, I have recently turned 21. It’s been pretty awesome, except for one thing: The police presence in my life has significantly increased.
How is this possible? Now that I’m legitimately not doing anything illegal, I’m getting in more trouble than ever before. Something’s not right.
I will tell you about two instances that took place within a few days of each other, since I assume talking about them will help me overcome the depression they spark inside of me.
On a Thursday last week, we were all sitting around, drinking some beer and wine, playing some drinking games at my friend’s apartment. Nothing rowdy, nothing out of the ordinary. Ten people tops.
Out of nowhere, the police are called to the apartment not once, but twice. And not one police officer, but three. Three Evanston police officers sent to deal with ten kids sitting around doing hardly anything exciting? That’s higher than the faculty-to-student ratio. I think even the police officers were embarrassed to have to write a ticket for practically no reason. Freaking asshole neighbors and their reporting of “noise violations.”
That hurt. But it was no where near the devastation we would see just two days later at the hands of the Indiana law enforcement.
My friends and I decide to go camping on a whim. Sounds like fun: cooking out, drinking beers, telling ghost stories, s’mores. A wholesome family night really. We drive out to the dunes in Indiana and set up shop. Everyone gets there by 9 p.m. and, of course, everyone brings alcohol. And nice alcohol, as we were away from Northwestern and could afford to be classy for once.
But our classy camping adventure got shut down.
Apparently, the quiet hours start at 10 p.m., so either the grandmas on one side of us or the Boy Scouts on the other side of us were angry as we yelled about penises and what not (we were camping — lay off). A Forest Ranger approaches our campsite, let’s call him Ranger Dick, and he is not amused. Turns out, you are only allowed to have two cars (we had three), eight people (we had 11), and you are not allowed to use sticks from the woods to start a fire (really?). But worst of all: Alcohol is not allowed.
This was devastating enough. What was the point of camping if we weren’t going to drink? I thought just maybe I could get through it. Until Ranger Dick said we had to pour it all out. Every bottle, every can, every box of wine. Couldn’t we just pack it up and drive home? No, we had to learn a lesson. So we did it. In what can only be described as a travesty, we drained $150 worth of alcohol into Mother Nature’s mouth. That greedy bitch.
Once Ranger Dick also started throwing sticks further from our campsite so we wouldn’t be able to start fires with them, half of us decided it wasn’t worth it and drove home. We drove back and ended up going to a Ridge and Davis party. Those who stayed said that when the wind changed directions, all you could smell was the alcohol. It sucked.
But let’s not linger. Let’s instead think about some tips about how to deal with police so that you don’t have to face the devastation that I have recently faced.
1. Be polite. So simple, yet so often ignored. You will get nowhere with snide comments to a man who will enjoy fining you hundreds of dollars. My friend Dan described the police in an interesting way: It’s one of the only jobs where, no matter who you are or what you look like, you will inspire fear in someone just for being around. Police know this and like this. So, be nice to them. Especially the little cops: They’re the worst.
2. Party-proof your house. Avoid the police altogether — if you think it will be beneficial, warn your neighbors before you have a party. Close your windows, even if it’s going to be hot. Keep people off your porches and fire escapes and decks, which are probably the biggest cause of police presence at parties.
3. Don’t lie. Now, I’ve never had to speak directly to a police officer, and I’ve heard some mixed opinions on this one. But it seems to me that straight up lying to an officer of the law is probably a terrible idea. You can still feign ignorance or not bring your ID to a party so they can’t find you in the system and prove that you aren’t 21, but if you end up getting caught in a lie, I think you’re in for some major problems.
4. Offer them food. Usually a last resort, but I’ve seen tickets get avoided from cheese and crackers alone.
5. Don’t panic. Being calm, cool, and collected will be much better than starting to cry, guaranteed. If the police show up at a party you’re attending, don’t run away. That’s lame and obvious. Just put your drink down somewhere. I don’t think you can get in any immediate trouble if there’s nothing in your hands, although your jungle juice stained mouth may or may not give you away. Either sit quietly to wait it out or, if possible, walk quietly out of another exit.
In general, just play it cool. Most of the police are pretty nice and don’t really want to be spending their time busting up parties when they could be chilling at White Hen.