Freshly sprung from the pokey.
"There's only two types of pothead. Those that have been busted and those that will be busted" said an older friend of mine about 40 some years ago.
The biggest bummer about getting busted the first time is the realization that there is no freedom. You lose that sense of innocence, that the world is fair and only "BAD" people get arrested. Getting busted only happens to other people.
It always happens at the most inconvenient time and causes far more hassle than you can imagine. "But I'm careful and smart". Yeah, I know.
You will be forever paranoid and the quality of life goes down due to the anxiety brought on by said paranoia. Every time you see a cop or police car your heart pounds, a lump forms in your throat, it's kind of like PTSD.
Sturgis '98 and the band was playing our third year at the Black Hills Rally and we had guests come up from Florida to party. We were at "The Days End" campground in Sturgis, South Dakota.
I set up a "compound" with a giant tarp covering the three or four tents with a 12 person picnic table in the middle with electric running to each tent. The van was an integral part of the set up as it also provided dry storage and privacy.
We had quite the week as the guests from Florida had arrived with FRESH PICKED Central Florida mushrooms and some Florida "snow". Unless you've had them nothing I could say could adequately relate the experience. As usual the band campsite was party central the entire week with an atmosphere of PARTY HARD!
Our campsite was so rowdy the previous years that the owners had moved my compound further away from the "high dollar" areas. You know, the people who have someone drive their RV and trailer containing polished, immaculate low mileage Harleys and set up their "camp" for them. They even called the cops on us that year because of the "after party" at the band compound that was going on all week.
But this part is about our guests trip back to Florida.
The band was scheduled to play at the Saloon #10 in Deadwood the week after the Rally. Our guests hung out for a couple of days before heading home. As we were helping them get packed I noticed all kinds of things a cop would also notice and not be very happy about. I scraped the Florida "snow" out of the crevices around the mirror, dug all the "roaches" out of the ash tray and under the seat along with paraphernalia and other items containing residue. "You're just being overly paranoid, we're not going to get searched."
"There's only two kinds of potheads..." I remind them.
The guests depart in the evening and the band goes to work.
The band house has a phone that only has local service. It's not supposed to be able to receive collect calls either. But on that particular morning I accepted a collect call from the Elks Snout jail just outside of Hog Wallow, Iowa, clear across the state of SD. Seems our guests had been traveling at 95MPH and a South Dakota State trooper searched the Florida tagged car. Zero tolerance states love to do asset forfeiture on out of state vehicles. The young trooper found what he thought was a magic mushroom but it was only a piece of Arby's roast beef. He also found an empty "drug" vile that had "residue" from a controlled substance that was never identified which begs the question, how do you KNOW it's a controlled substance if there's not enough to test?
It was a rental car that was supposed to be a local rental in the Orlando area so our guests still had to give up the car as it had been used to commit a felony out of state. One in jail, one stranded somewhere in Elks Snout, SD.
The one in jail is also suffering from an infected bug bite and is running a low grade fever. Another problem is the Elks Snout jail doesn't have any facilities for women so they have her locked up in a janitors closet. They bring in a doctor to take care of the puss filled infected sweat gland which he does by slicing it open and allowing it to drain. Inconvenient timing at best.
Meanwhile I hear from guest #2 who was left out on the side of the Interstate and had to walk 12 miles to civilization and get a motel room. There isn't any place close for her to rent a car, Her credit card is maxed out anyway and she can only pay for one night at the motel. Problem is the night guy let her have a room at 7am and at 11 am the day shift kicked her out. Complications and hassles are beginning to compound. I should say at this point guest #2 never got the whole catching more flies with honey than vinegar thing, bless her heart.
We still have a problem finding the $5000 in bail money. They won't except band gear as collateral. No choice but to call guests #1"s parents. "DO NOT talk to my mother, only talk to my dad" were my explicit instructions. Not under any circumstances was I to speak with her mother.
I call the number but I forgot what her dads name was. Shit! Mom answers and all I can think of to say is "May I speak with Kimberly's dad please?"
"This is her mom..."
"She told me to only speak with her dad..."
"Well, this is her Mother and you can tell me..."
I knew it was pointless to insist on talking to dad so I said, "My name is Luke and I'm a friend of your daughters...she's not hurt or dead but she is in jail and we need $5000 to get her out."
And that's how I met my future Mother and Father in Law for the very first time, over the phone. Talk about first impressions.
I played the gig that night and headed for Elk Snout to meet the parents and rescue my now homeless friend with the maxed out credit card and no car. It was a sixteen hour drive round trip, we got back to Deadwood just in time for that nights gig and the parents went back to Michigan.
That was Kimberly's first and only time getting in trouble for ANYTHING, not even a speeding ticket. One day I"ll tell you about our trip back to Elks Snout for the court date, spoiler alert: Don't hire a dairy farmer/mail order degreed lawyer from the same town as the court.
Peace and Love!
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