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Essa’s Adventures – Essa Goes to Jail

I arrive at military lock up shortly after an incident that is too long and complex to get into in one blog post. Suffice it to say the charges were along the lines of ‘inciting a riot.’

I do indeed like to keep my Saturday nights interesting.

“Can I brush my hair before the mug shot?”

The cop snorts. “Why do girls always ask that?”

I shrug. “I just don’t want to end up as one of those ‘world’s craziest mug shots’ they put on internet slide shows.”

He gives me an appreciative once-over. “You look fine.”

“Seems odd that you’re flirting with me while booking me.”

He winks. “It was a slow night before you showed up.”

I stand in front of the height lines as he readies the camera that will take my photo. “Question on mug shot etiquette?”

He’s playing with the angle of the camera. “Shoot.”

“Should I smile?”

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s a mug shot, not a glamour shot.”

“Yes, but I’m worried about the image I’ll convey. See, I look nicer and friendlier when I smile. When I don’t smile, I look all criminally and scary.”

He crosses his arms. “Show me.”

I fix him with my best dead pan glare.

He flinches. “Jesus, don’t do that. You’ll break my camera.” He scratches his head. “Maybe a half smile?”

“I’m afraid that will look cocky.”

“You’re probably right about that.” He focuses his attention back on the camera. “I’d say smile, but not a huge ‘I just won the lottery smile’. More like a ‘Mona Lisa Smile.’

“I hate that movie, but I get your point.” He turns to the cop who arrested me, who is much less friendly than him.

“What’s the charge? Solicitation?”

“Excuse me?” I’m offended, and a little bit concerned about how much makeup I’m wearing. “I’ll have you know I started a bar fight.” I rethink my statement as the arresting officer smirks. “I mean, I allegedly started a bar fight.”

My arresting officer snorts. “They have a video of you hitting,” he checks his paperwork, “Sam McLarry with a chair.”

I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t mean I told everyone else to start hitting people with chairs. I can hardly be blamed for the innate human desire to give into mob mentality.” The cop behind the camera lets out a laugh before my arresting officer glares at him.

“Just take her damn picture, will you?”

I blink as the flash goes off and they have to take my picture again because my eyes were closed. It takes about four shots before they can actually get one of me not blinking. After that, my arresting officer leads me off to a desk, where he handcuffs me to a chair as he starts my paperwork.

I raise my handcuffed hand as high as I can. “Is this entirely necessary? It’s not like I’m going to go running out of here. You have my driver’s license and all my money.”

“And quite a bit of money it is too.” He takes a seat in his chair. “Where did you get $720 in cash?”

“You got me.” I let out a heartfelt sigh. “I’m an international drug kingpin who is responsible for half of the gross domestic illegal product of Columbia…and I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for some patrol cop and his incredible sense of intuition.” I narrow my eyes. If he wants to be a pain in the ass, so can I. “I mean, did they teach you such amazing powers of intuition in cop school, or is it a natural gift?”

“Ok…”

“Because seriously, it’s amazing that you managed to crack this case, just by pointing out how much money I have in my wallet. Why, you should be running this station instead of just acting as a lowly MP.”

“Enough…” I’m starting to piss him off.

“Why haven’t they made a cop drama about you yet? You’re like Colombo, without the awesome overcoat.”

“I said enough!” His shout is so loud that everyone turns to look at us.

“Hey, you’re the one asking stupid questions.” I toss back at him. “It’s payday. Everyone on base has money on them.”

He glares at me and completes the rest of my paperwork in silence.

Just as an aside here, generally, I’m pretty nice to cops, but something about this guy gets under my skin. I completely get that he has to arrest me. I mean, I did start the damn bar fight. But there’s no reason to be a dick about it.

Afterwards, he leads me to a holding tank with four other women in it, with a threat to call my sergeant, that I guess I am supposed to be afraid of.

Joke’s on him. My sergeant is in the cell too. She shakes her head when she sees me.

“Solicitation?”

I let out a huff of frustration. “Why does everyone keep assuming that? I mean, is my makeup that friggen heavy?”

“You did lay it on pretty thick.” She pats the bench next to her. “Guess we’re going to have a bit of explaining to do to LT.”

“Not really.” I smile. “He got arrested for whacking someone with a pool cue.”

Sergeant D laughs. “I have a feeling we’re going to be in here for a while.”

“Maybe we should start a prison gang.” I tilt my head. “You can be the muscle, and I can be the person who can get you things…like Red in Shawshank Redemption.”

“I like that.” Sergeant D lets out a laugh. “We can get matching neck tattoos with our prison nicknames on them.”

“I want mine to be ‘Red’.”

I get another once over. “Nothing about you is red. How is Red a fitting nickname?”

“Fine, what do you recommend?”

“Well, a prison nickname can be based on your looks, or your personality.” She considers the question. “How about “Pasty White Pain in the Ass?”

“Accurate, but seems a bit long.”

Our conversation is interrupted by our arresting officer. “Alroc, D your Captain is here to claim you.”

A man who barely comes up to my shoulder is standing in front of the holding tank, shaking his head. “How did I know your promotion party would get out of hand?”

“Bet you’re sorry you missed it.”

“That is not a safe bet to take. I hope you enjoyed this weekend, because you’re going to spend the next five waxing the floor in my office.”

Joke’s on him. There is nothing more fun than getting high on paste wax and then having an electric buffer rodeo. My best time is currently 35 seconds. “Sounds fair. So they’re dropping the charges?”

“Yes, but you’re never allowed in the officer’s club again.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t allowed in there in the first place.”

“Let’s not remind them.” The captain takes my elbow and starts to guide me out. “As far as I’m concerned, this weekend never happened.”

“Sounds good to me.” I pause at the doorway. “But I get to keep my mug shot, right?”

mug shot

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