Last week, I misspoke, I said I had never had any run-ins with the law. But after seeing a promo for MTV's new show "Jersey Shore" about the douchebags and douchebaguettes of Seaside Heights, I remembered a particular incident from the summer of '89.
Somehow, my buddies and I found ourselves sharing a huge rental house in Belmar with a bunch of gumbas and guidos. There was drinking. Drinking. And more drinking. At 2:30 AM we found ourselves on the porch enjoying the rancid ocean air and a joint. By 2:32, I found myself in the back of a squad car. With Stacey. Or Mindy. Or Donna. Who knows what her name was.
I only know that two undercover cops, slipped out from behind a bush and slapped some cuffs on us. Stacey/Mindy/Donna started throwing a fit. I, on the other hand, thought we were being Punked. Keep in mind that in 1989 Ashton Kushton was 11 years old. (Ironically enough, his "kids" and my kids go to the same expensive private school -- but that's another story.)
Mug shots were snapped.
And at 3:15 AM, I was escorted off to my room...uh, cell #8.
Though it smelt of of old urine, the cell was relatively clean. And I didn't have to bunk with anybody. So it gave me some quality time to think about the crime I had committed.
I wish I could show my appreciation to those undercover cops for selecting me out of the thousands of drunken hoodlums running around the streets of Belmar that night. I'd thank them for giving me a quality life experience and for setting my life on the right path.
And then I'd ask them where I could secure a copy of my old mug shot.