getting arrested for sport

I almost got arrested yesterday for fun, and so I could tell a cool story about it on 2+2. The poor officer seemed so weary of life, though, so I didn't have the heart to push him any harder. He really just wanted to lean against the wall in the sun, and his tough talk wore down to a dribble after I called his first two bluffs:( Manhattan's finest are just teddy bears, I guess.


I've never been arrested in Manhattan, and I thought it would be cool to get a tour, a nice walk-through of the whole system. I was unloading some extra tickets to a broadway show on the way in - which is illegal - and I decided a night at Rikers - if I could get there by not posting bond - would be a lot more interesting than a bunch of bozos screaming and posturing on stage.


Anyway, my old boredom nuker used to be hitchhiking, but standing in the worst possible place so that only the surprising loonies (surprising even when you expect a loony) would pull off to pick me up. But I am considering this new sport of going to different cities and getting arrested - kinda like a high-priced amusement-park ride. Like a haunted house, you know?


Anybody else ever try it? Anyway, if you thought I must be bored to be doing all this posting on 2+2, you are darn right. Incidentally, I haven't been on an airplane in so many years I can't remember. Getting all boxed up when I actually have someplace to be just ain't my cup of tea and, plus, what fun is it when you know where the plane is going?


eLROY

I used to go surfing three days a week (no matter how small or large the waves). The surfing social dynamic is a lot like poker. You're all together out there in the lineup, but it's still every many for himself. It's like I quit crewing in sailboat regattas so I could be my own skipper, and hang out with my girlfriend, and compete against myself at the same time. I guess people say golf is the same way, competing against your own weakness.


But anyway, gliding up and down the lip of a wave is magical. Particularly in proportion to the struggle to get there. It's like slogging around in quicksand with 1,000 pounds of bricks on your back, and then suddenly gravity drops to zero and you're flying like a bird. Only, more and more, I think the brutality of having 48-degree water rammed into you skull, and having a sequence of waves stomp on you relentlessly like an entire crew of drunken brothers at a Hoboken dance club, is half the attraction.


Only after you have fought with your last ounce of blood oxygen content to avoid drowning, does it feel like you have actually done something, and lived for a day. I like freak cleanout sets that put 40 minutes of struggling against endless rows of thundering whitewater to waste. I think it's the same thing with snow-skiing, too. Only after you have beat yourself to death in the bumps, or dropped of a cliff - so that all those fashion and status symbols from the lift line end up scattered in a jumbled mass across the mountainside - have you gotten your money's worth.


But then that's not enough, you have to start fights over parking spots at the point, or lean on the lift op, or the guy at the ticket booth, so hard that he just gives you a free ticket, and you still cannot get your money's worth. What is the fun in life when no one wants to play? What is the point in life if not to work 90 hours a week and support a wife and kids? What is missing that hedonists must push themselves to the edge of the cliff before they can sleep at night?


What do other people here do for fun, and what makes it fun?


eLROY

I have been offered a position as the administrator of an obscure vineyard in Austria, where they ferment a rare wine whose sole use to to be sold for $200,000.00 a bottle and poured over shaved springwater-ice for dessert at special ceremonies and rites which take place involving a sort of secret society which I cannot elaborate on further.


On the vineyard grounds there is also a finishing school for deaf teenage and 20-something girls who have fallen into legal trouble and promiscuity in their own communities, and are trained to work in the households of royals, oil sultans, and so forth - where breaking these girls in will be another one of my day-to-day responsibilties.


Anyway, the prosecutor and the judge have agreed that this arrangement, together with my renouncing my US citizenship would be amenable, provided the facility remains completely cut off from the rest of the world by phone, and isolated out in the mountains - as it is - so that I cannot present a danger to broader society.


I'd invite some of you to visit but, as the proverb among shepherds in the region's ancient valleys holds, you have to "cross an infinitely high wall" to get there.


eLROY

The only person that will miss you is Mason Malmuth. He loves your racist posts.

you're a jerk. leave the guy alone. maybe if some of you learned how to read, and used a dictionary once in a while, you'd know that eLROY's not racist, nor does he post racist stuff. grow up for chrissakes.

like that one guy in flint michigan or whatever.


(ok its an idea thing, i have no idea how you could really do it)


go to airports and fly around and see all the things you get harassed for. like when they confiscate HFAP because it has a gun on the cover. maybe you could even sue (for the value of the book which was confiscated).


actually with all the crazy stuff everywhere, you could probably just figure out where you can go and get some kind of damages you can sue for.


brad