I Don't Do Bail -- A Story of a Crappy Roommate

One of my favorite stories about living in Washington, DC in the Fall of 1994 revolves around my roommate and a night of drinking with his friends.

Funny thing is... I wasn't out with them that night.

I was hanging out with a few of my friends as we all wanted to watch the George Foreman fight. For you boxing fans...it was the one where he kicked that kids ass to become the oldest heavyweight champion ever. He wasn't supposed to win and he pretty much killed the division by beating him... but... oh well.

The fight ended... we all hung out a bit and then we all went to bed about 2 in the morning... myself included. I got back to the room, got all snuggily with my pillow and passed out.

An hour later the phone rang and it was Steve "WHAT's UP THERE" Wachtel. What a class act my roommate was. He would yell that at me every morning after he finished getting ready for work to wake me up. Steve was my alarm clock...and he was the hairiest person I have ever seen.

He called to ask me if I could borrow his friend's car (who was with him.. but i needed to go get the keys from HIS roommate) and pick the five of them up from a police station way up in Northwest DC. I asked him if they needed bail money and he said no. They were just detained because of a fight or something but they were all so drunk they wouldn't be released unless someone drove them home. They would have to stay until Monday otherwise. Whatever...

I got the keys and began the late night drive to the police station that was some 48 blocks away. At each intersection, I never felt comfortable so I began treating traffic lights like they were stop signs since the city was dead anyway. (Much different than my recent trip when there were peole everywhere.)

I arrived at the police station and the cops let me take the five of them away after I passed a Breathalyzer test with flying colors. I didn't drink back then. I asked the cop if it was alright to shove 6 people in a car made for 5. He told me fine and sent me on my way. They were still drunk and talking a lot of shit. One of them even wanted to go get a cheesesteak! I told them no and continued to drive.

Halfway home, I saw the red and blue lights flashing in my rearview window.

I pulled over and angrily told the shitheads in the back seat to shut their frigging mouths. The cop came up and I asked the cop politiely. "Excuse me officer. May I please get out of the car and talk to you about this?" He was very hesitant but said sure.

Upon hearing that he pulled me over because I had too many people in my car, I explained to him the situation. I was careful to use the appropriate number of expletives to describe my passengers. He smiled, verified my story with the other cops, and then gave us a police escort back to the apartment complex.

That was fun. Those guys owed me big time for it and I ate dinner for free for the next two weeks.

The funny thing is... it re-enforced a joke I used to make and made it a real policy.

I don't do bail. You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out of it. I would probably only do bail for a VERY small group of people with only one definite person -- Tangent Woman... but even then... I am not too worried about her.