Pitching from a Jail Cell Pt. I
Had it only not rained. I would have biked.
I emerge from my garage on 25th street on my way down to my office on 17th when blaring lights in my rear view force me to the side. I am 50 yards from my building.
“Sir are you aware that your right tail light is out?”, said the stereotypically rotund police officer.
No I was not, Officer, but I am pleased to report that I have my license, registration, and proof of insurance. May I offer them to you?
You sound like you’ve done this before.
Well proof of insurance has often been my nemesis, but today I’m organized.
Officer K takes my documents and returned to his vehicle. I flip on WFAN to listen to the Schmooze’s soothing voice reassure me about the Mets. Wiping the rain off my arm rest and door, I lean back against the headrest (a first). A flashlight firmly knocks against my window.
Would you mind stepping out of the car?
I think he thinks I’ve been drinking. I will soon take my first DUI test in the pouring rain — a Carlos Beltran-throw from my apartment.
Step to the back of the car please and put your hands on the window and spread your legs. There were now two officers and they looked considerably more serious.
The younger of the two officers held a flashlight up while I was frisked and stripped of my keys, mobile, and wallet. Flashlight asked me about my phone.
“It’s an iphone,”
But it’s red.
Just a cover. I got it last week at the GDGT party at SXSW.
“Mr. Cohen,” said Officer K, “Are you aware that your license was suspended last week?”
No. For what?
Apparently you received a ticket in Clarkstown, NY in June of 2009.
I did?
Yes, are you not aware of this incident Mr. Cohen?
I can’t say that I remember.
Do you know you failed to answer a summons?
No.
Did you get anything in the mail? I’m sure the Clarkstown PD sent you something. Perhaps you failed to comply with their request?
I suppose that’s possible. So what do I do now?
Driving with a suspended license requires to arrest you. We’re going to have to take you in to the station.
Did he just say “arrest?” He must mean something else.
Ok, I’ll follow you.
No, sir you cannot drive your car.
Well we can’t leave it here
Sir, Officer S will drive your car to the station. Your wife can pick it up later tonight.
Officer K, it’s pouring out and my wife is home with the kids. Can’t I just follow you?
Mr. Cohen, I need you to place your hands behind your back.
I am handcuffed and told to climb into the back of a squad car that had very, very little leg room. Officer K told me to be careful positioning myself in the backseat. After some additional back and forth about my car, the officers agree to circle the block and return it to my garage. I think about my bike.
Officers, is this absolutely necessary to keep these cuffs on? I’m really not a flight risk and you know where I live.
Standard procedure. I’m sorry about this. Try not to move around because the cuffs just lock down more on you.
Yes, I think that’s already happened.
Well, we’ll take them off once you’re in the cell.
The cell?
Yes Mr. Cohen. Processing you takes time, you will be put in our holding pen.
I will?
Yes, standard procedure. Too bad this didn’t happen in New Jersey. They don’t arrest suspended licenses there. New York is tough, but you’ll probably avoid going downtown. You don’t want to be in central booking — know what I’m saying?
I am on my way to the slammer. Scenes from Cool Hand Luke, Oz, and Papillon race back into focus. Attica, Attica. I am Scared Straight.
On the way down to 20th and 8th the officers told me not to worry. They promise I will only be in for a few hours the time necessary to run my prints and mugshots through local, state, and federal databases. According to the veteran Officer K federal usually takes several hours.
The Po-Lice get a good parking space right in front of Cafe Grumpy and help me out of the car. The cuffs dig in more as I try to get out of the car.
When we roll in to the station, I thought I had just entered the Jets Offensive Line meeting room. The officers are huge. You grow up with all those Simpsons doughnut jokes, but you can’t appreciate them till you get processed at the 10th. For a moment, I wonder if I can check in on Foursquare.
Finally, they remove the cuffs and escort me to my cell.
Ok, Mr. Cohen the guy in your cell should be fine. He’s heading to central shortly. We’ll be able to hear you guys if there are any problems. Anyway, I think whatever he was on has largely worn off. You’ll probably be fine.
