The only time I’ve ever been arrested . . . . sounds like a good writing prompt. Go!
The only time I’ve ever been arrested was about 40 years ago on an overpass in Nebraska.
I’d flown out from Dayton, Ohio to visit my sister working at a summer camp in Platte. It was the end of the season yet before time to go back to college. At that time in Ohio classes didn’t start until the second half of September.
I remember the silty-bottom rivers and sand cranes, the sound of them calling to each other over the rolling hills. Outside of that and getting arrested there isn’t much else I remember about Nebraska.
That summer a friend had introduced me to the thrill of sitting on an overpass above the highway and the rush when a semi passed beneath, the sudden whoosh as it flew out. I’d sit with my feet dangling, feeling the aero dynamics through my thin-soled sneakers. Movies and bowling cost money, but this was free.
So on my last night in Nebraska I talked one of my sister’s co-workers into going with me to a bridge. He was very enthusiastic. “Let me get some cookies.” I’m sure I thought, Great idea! We might get hungry. Little did I suspect he was going to toss them off the bridge at the traffic down below.
At some point, I probably joined in.
We were just getting started when headlights turned off and a car came our way, onto the country road. We were skadaddling when the cop car pulled up. We were caught red-handed with cookies. The rest is hazy.
I know we were lectured on how dangerous it was to throw anything onto the highway. I’m pretty sure we were sorry. Regardless, I and the other guy were taken in. I wasn’t carrying any ID. The worse part was having to call my sister from the station. Or, maybe the worse part was the thought of missing my plane because I was in jail. I really, really wanted to get out of Platte.
Anyway, my sister showed up. I don’t think she had to pay bail. We were released under our own recognizance, sent home with my sister who was still trying to process what exactly we’d been up to that evening. We made it back to the camp in time for me to pack and for my sister to drive me to the airport. (394 words)
How about you? Do you have a story to tell? Write a flash about that one time, the last time, the only time you’ve ever been arrested.
|unbelievably, I know this guy, ahead of his time|