Montecito Lad Odyssey

A black sixty-eight GTO pulled into the 7-11 parking lot around 11:30 am. It had very dark tinted windows in the back. From the custom stereo emanated the powerful chords and riffs of Led Zeppelin. You could hear the music from across the street. There were two young lads just over sixteen in the car. They both got out and went into the store. Inside they immediately noticed that no one was around, including the store manager. The two looked at each other and smiled big, drunken, stupid smiles. The driver of the car, Page, walked over to a case of beer, picked it up, and walked out of the store to the back to his car.

“Pop the trunk, Rick.”

“I’m on it.”

The beer safely stowed, Page casually walked back into the store and grabbed a twelve pack of Coke by the door. Rick followed with some candy bars in pocket.

They plopped down into their seats full of satisfaction. They both had rich parents. They both had money in pocket. They could have easily gotten some older friends to buy the beer for them, but they both enjoyed the idea of getting a free ride. Both were dressed in board shorts, t-shirts with surf logos, and sandals. They wore the typical garb of Santa Barbara teenage surfers, and they fit the stereotype of arrogant Montecito rich punk kids.

“Rick, give me a candy bar, I totally got the munchies.”

“No way dude, get your own, I only got enough for me.”

“You, bastard!”

Page knew Rick was just being selfish. Rick had a few bars and could easily spare giving one away, but Page didn’t feel like haggling one from him. Instead he stumbled out of the car again and went back into the store.

The manager was now behind the cash register. Page grabbed a candy bar and some gum and paid for them. A man looked at him sternly who was entering the store. Page responded with a huge grin. He was relishing staying around the store he just ripped off and going back in to buy things lawfully.

The man who passed Page on the way in went up to the front counter, leaned over, and spoke softly to the manager.

“Those two kids in the black car stole from your store while you were gone. They helped themselves to a case of beer. I saw them do it from across the street while using the pay phone at the gas station.”

The manager shook his head.

“Stupid kids.”

The manager was a nice guy. He didn’t want to get the kids in trouble. However, he wasn’t going to let them take off with his goods either.

He walked out and approached the driver’s side where Page was enjoying his candy bar. Page saw him as he came out of the store and started rolling up his window and pressed down the lock button with his other hand. The manager began knocking on Page’s window.

“Just give me the beer back!”

Page calmly started the engine, looked the manager in the eyes, smiled, gave a little wave, and peeled out in reverse with Led Zep still blaring on the stereo. The car swung around into a screeching slide, and blasted out of the parking lot in a cloud of smoke.

Page and Rick had recently drank twelve beers each earlier that night at the state beach. They were laughing uncontrollably as they pulled out of the parking lot and gave each other a high five as the accelerated down the road. They drove down the street to the condominium complex where Page lived with a live-in maid while his parents were building a mansion in some gated country club community in Palm Springs. His parents had recently sold their home in the mountains of Montecito. Each house on the hills of Cito, what the locals called Montecito for short, usually had ten acres or more surrounding it. The house gone, Page’s parents rented a three bedroom condo and had him and the maid move. The elitist prep-school Page attended didn’t have room for him as a boarder. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad were visiting this weekend, so Page and Rich didn’t want go in yet.

Instead, Page and Rick sat in front of the condo laughing about their most recent adventure. They gave each other the surfer’s handshake, thumbs intertwined with palms and fingers clasped around the back of the hand.

“Page, man, that was classic. I can’t believe you just rolled up the window and took off laughing in his face!”

“Yea, he was totally shocked. Did you see his expression?”

“Yea, man, classic, you’re going to be a fucking legend if you keep on pulling shit like this off.”

“What a dumb shit, like I’m going to stop and say, ‘sorry man, here’s your beer back’. Stupid SOB, it is his fault leaving the store empty like that.”

“Totally, dude.”

“Oh crap dude, I have to take you back there to get your car. Lets chill here for a half hour more and then it should be mellow to go back.”

“Yea, man, good idea. Hey, lets smoke this joint while we wait.”

“Cool.”

Page and Rick smoked a fat one and turn up the Zep. They didn’t talk anymore. They had achieved happiness.

The reason Rick’s car wasn’t at Page’s house was that their parents had forbade them to hang out. Page’s parents were old country club Republicans. Rick’s parents were well to do Jews. Both Page and Rick had grown up in Montecito going to top private day schools which cost thousands a year. Their families were fine examples of respectability. Both had the ability and recourses to become anything they wanted, but like most of their friends from the same community, neither had much ambition other than to party, surf, and gets laid. Their parents had ambition for them and were riding them all the time, but they would get stone to tune out the nagging.

Page and Rick had meet in Junior High at Laguna Blanca School which went from K to 12th. The two of them started partying in 7th grade. Page turned Rick on to pot with another friend named Jud. Page was now at a sophomore at Cate School. Cate is a top prep school located in Carpinteria, which is just south of Montecito. Rick was still at Laguna. Cate was primarily a boarding school and very élitist. It was ranked as one of the top ten prep schools just behind St. Paul’s, Hotchkiss, Groton, Andover, Exeter, Taft and Choate. Page’s mother would have preferred for him to go to one of these, but Page loved California and wouldn’t exchange the sun and surf for East Coast prestige. Cate students were to suppose to be ideal people: kind to all, genius, good looking, rich, and primarily waspy with some minorities mixed in on scholarships for the sake of diversity.

Page would have much rather been at the public high school, so would have Rick. Most of their friends went to Santa Barbara High. Page saw how good they had it there. They could bail whenever they wanted. They got stoned on campus without any problem. There were tons of hot chicks everywhere. They could get A’s without much effort.

When Page had interviewed at Cate, he had told the principle how his goal was to get straight A’s, play varsity soccer, lacrosse, and tennis, then go to Harvard and major in business, work as an investment banker for a few years, and then get an MBA. The principle was a nice guy and let Page into the school as a day student. This was in spite the fact that Page’s stated goals were superficial and base for the humanitarian ideal of Cate. Had Page known Cate better he would have said something about two years with the peace core between Harvard and Goldman Sacks.

After an hour, both Page and Rick were on the verge of sleep.

“Alright, Rick, I better get you back to your car man. I am too tired to wait any longer.”

“Ya, dude, lets do it.”

As they approached the intersection in front of the 7-11, they noticed a cop car in the parking lot. Two officers were outside the car talking to the store manager. Page and Rick should have guessed that due to governmental bureaucratic inefficiency, the cops wouldn’t show up until an hour and a half after they were needed, but their brains were saturated with beer and weed. As the manager pointed to their car, Page floored it through the intersection, not stopping for the red light, Led Zep still blaring out. Within seconds, police sirens joined the chorus.

At the next intersection, Paged turned left going about fifty. The cops were just coming out of the parking lot. They were now out of sight and would be for a few seconds. The next turn would be critical if Page was going to loose them. He decided to take a risk and pull into a large condominium complex with a circular drive going through it. He figured the cops wouldn’t see him go in and would keep going up the road. There were about five different ways the cops could go, so Page felt safe although his heart was beating like crazy.

He turned of the tape player and stopped the car, wondering if the cops had seen him come in. He figured they would follow him in if they did. He was ready to jump out and make a run for it if that was the case. He knew the area pretty well and new there was a canal that was just over the fence on the parking lot of the condo complex. But why leave the car if he didn’t have too. These cops were probably blocks away looking for him in some other neighborhood. He sat and waited a few minutes and figured he could just go back to his condo. Nick could walk back to his car from there. Nick seemed to be taking this all in stride.

Page drove slowly around the condo complex. The drive was one way. When he got out to the main street, the cops were there waiting. They must have seen him go in and decided to wait outside until he came out. They seemed to have guessed his plan perfectly.

Page put the metal to the petal. Again the sirens came on, but this time no Zep. They were right on his ass. Page floored it through a four way intersection running a stop sign. He went on a bridge over the freeway, came to a red light and made a left turn onto the onramp. He was caught but wouldn’t admit it. He had always evaded the consequences of his actions, and he was sure he could still pull it off.

Rick piped up now that Page was going south on the 101 at hundred and thirty with the cops right behind.

“Dude what are you doing, man! We’re busted, give it up!

“No way man! We can do it. We can ditch these guys.”

Page pulled off at the next exit going eighty, flew through the intersection and got back on the 101 going north. The cops were still right behind him.

Page started to wonder if he could really ditch them. He figured that the only way to escape at this point was to get off the freeway and head up to the mountains. In the mountains the roads curve around and there are dirt roads that lead to trail heads. If he could get to a trailhead, he knew he could out run the cops and ditch them in the bushes.

At the next exit Page pulled off slowing down to a hundred. He tried to make a ninety degree turn going seventy, but the car spun out sideways. There was a little gravel on the street and they did three three-sixties on to the opposite bank of the intersection. Everything was fine until they hit the curb, then they did a side ways role and came to a stop on the tires. A little jolted Page immediately put the car in reverse but he was spinning out in Ice Plant that they plant all along the banks of the freeway in Southern California. Page looked over at Rick. Rick was knocked out and couldn’t yap anymore. Page was about to get out of the car and make a run for it, but a cop was already at his window tapping at the glass yelling, “unlock the door or I will break it.” Page unlocked the door and attempted to put on his seat belt. He didn’t want to get busted for that on top of everything else. Within seconds, Page was face first on the road with a cop slapping handcuffs on him. There were several cop cars surrounding his. They had been coming to converge on him from every direction. They were not amused.

At the station the cops asked if he wanted a breath, urine, or blood test. He chose blood and smiled to himself. Some older guys at the beach had told him once that if he got pulled over for drinking and driving to ask for a blood test because it gives time for the alcohol to leave your system. Cops can’t give you a blood test themselves. They have to take you to a doctor to get a blood test, and this buys time.

When they booked him, they asked where he went to school. “Cate” was his reply with an arrogant grin. Then they placed him in a holding cell for what seemed like two hours. They then drove him to the hospital which was about a half hour drive from the Carpinteria Police Station where he was at.

After the cops had taken the blood test, they drove him to Juvenile Hall and processed him.