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Bagged Piss

The Last One

By Michael J. HeilPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
2
He's a Rebel, The Crystals 1963

Several months into my probation, I found myself utterly incapable of refraining from weed. After a while, I just couldn't help it anymore. I had to smoke, but I also had to find a way around my randomized drug tests. My solution: go to the sauna for six hours, drink lots of water, take niacin, cranberry extract, and goldenseal, get clean, pee in a bunch of ziploc baggies, and store them for later. But what happens when you're down to your last bag?!?!

On one occasion, I'd just picked up some weed and opium with one of my dealers, and we were en route back home. As we were driving, a cop pulled directly behind me and started following me. I had this nervous twitch sort of thing that made me freak out whenever I saw a cop. That twitch had gotten me pulled over a dozen times before and by now I knew I had to remain en route even if they seemed to be following me. I pressed forward driving straight.

When it came time to turn, I put my blinker on, and he put his on as well, indicating that he was going to follow me. We started to panic, and my dealer told me to change directions. I turned my blinker the opposite direction, but as I approached the stop sign, I ended up going straight out of nervousness. It was hard to focus on what I was doing, with one person yelling left, the other yelling right, and my own brain telling me to stay on course.

We were relieved when the cop proceeded in his original direction, only to find out that the road I had gone straight on was a dead end. The only way out of the neighborhood was to turn around and go back straight past the cop who was now sitting on the edge of the road waiting for us. There was nothing we could do. Our hearts were racing, and we quickly threw the opium and some of the weed in the bag of chips my friend was eating. The cop was now behind us with his sirens blaring.

He abruptly approached the car asking for our identification, which we quickly handed him. After he ran our information, he asked me to step out of the vehicle. I hesitantly agreed and opened the door. I was trembling; flashbacks were playing in my mind. I was confident he was going to handcuff me right there. I was shaking violently, and beads of sweat dripped down the side of my face. He stood me square in front of himself and straightened me out with a kind but firm gesture.

Then he proceeded to speak, "Kid, you have quite the record, the reason I pulled you out of your vehicle is because I didn't want to embarrass you by mentioning your record in front of your friends and telling them that you're an alcohol-restricted driver. I'm going to have to search your vehicle." My jaw dropped; still shaking slightly, I gave consent. I figured that we had already acted suspicious enough by avoiding him earlier and that if I refused him, I would give him evidence beyond a reasonable doubt that we were indeed trying to hide something from him. I didn't want to trigger him either; I knew how cops could be if they were triggered.

He didn't make my friends get out, he just started shining his light around. The first thing he saw was the packs of cigarettes that we had intentionally left out in the open. He confiscated them but didn’t give us a ticket for them, even though we were underage. This was extremely strange and unusually kind. He continued searching, and as he was looking in the driver's side door, he reached down and grabbed something. He pulled his hand up slowly, revealing his thumb and forefinger, which were reluctantly clutching hold of a small Ziploc bag.

He pulled it close to his face and started to smell it, most likely assuming that it would have the scent of alcohol. His face wrinkled grotesquely as he exclaimed, "What is this?!" It took all of my might to refrain from bursting with laughter. I thought for a moment and replied, "Well, officer, have you ever really, really had to pee before?" Realization slowly crept across his face, and the bag flung from his hands as if it were a live snake.

He didn't believe me at first, and he was flabbergasted at the idea that I would have a bag of old pee just sitting in my car. (He obviously didn't know that it was my bag of clean pee, the stuff I used to pass drug tests and that it held quite a bit of value to me as it was my last dose of so-called sobriety.) He turned to me, looking a little bit confused, and said, "Alright, I'm going to let you go with just a warning, BUT" he said sternly, "my one condition is that you have to leave that bag of pee on the ground." Laughing, I said, "You're asking me to litter?" "As long as it keeps that thing out of your car, then yes," he replied. I was a bit discouraged that my source of clean pee was to be discarded and left out on the street as if it were nothing more than a simple piece of rubbish. But really, more than anything, I was astonished to hear the cop say he would let me go with nothing but a warning.

I had never met a cop like this, someone kind, relatable even, courteous and respectful, even towards a snotty nose kid like me. He treated me like a human. He was not on a power trip, nor was he abusing his extra rights and privileges. Maybe there was such a thing as justice after all, and not just because I got away with my fix, although that was a bonus. He had removed our cigarettes because we were not 19 and not of legal smoking age; he upheld the law. He hadn't found the weed and opium inside the bag of chips that my friend kept slowly munching away at, or he would have likely arrested us. But the thing that stuck out is that he didn't treat us like scum. He didn't shove us out of the vehicle, sit us in the snow, ravage our possessions, none of it (see my other posts for details.) For the first time in my life, I left an encounter with an officer of the law reprimanded and exhorted but not beaten down.

guilty
2

About the Creator

Michael J. Heil

From the time he first began forming sentences Michael has been a gleeful storyteller. He finds joy in the thought that his writings may encourage others and help them avoid making the same mistakes he has. For more see www.michaeljheil.com

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