Wow, you can never judge a book by its cover. Even if that cover is an NYPD uniform. I mean here I am, stumbling piss drunk and shirtless out of my buddy’s basement show in Red Hook, and a fucking cop of all people wants to keep the party going.
I mean, to be fair, I only approached him because he was riding a horse. So I thought he was just a regular guy who was already on drugs. But wouldn’t you know it, a brief convo about The Strokes buying their way into the NYC rock scene was enough to let Mr. Stop and Frisk know it was cool to let his hair down. He asked me, “Sir, do you have any drugs on you?”
Now, I know all cops are bastards, but maybe this one is the least bastardly of them all. I mean, out of all the cops out there, one of them has to be the coolest. That’s just science, and maybe science has led me to him. Or maybe it’s just all the drugs I’ve taken tonight. Who’s to say?
After telling him I didn’t have any drugs on me, we continued our admittedly one-sided conversation, where I asked him how accurate the movie Police Academy is to the real thing, and whether or not I could hold his gun. He was pretty uninterested, but his eyes lit up when I invited him back to my place, where I said I had tons of drugs we could do together.
In closing, I learned that everyone likes to party, even the cops. And that maybe if we all did more drugs together, we would have fewer differences. I mean, there’s no greater bonding experience than doing a line and blasting Agnostic Front to the entire neighborhood at 3AM.
And even though I had lost my key and couldn’t get into my apartment, the cop told me he’d be back tomorrow, and that he couldn’t wait to see all my drugs. I just hope he likes all the band names I’ve come up with for us, and that he knows of a practice space we could use. Maybe the room at his precinct where they keep all the confiscated drugs.