The Harrowing Adventures of Riley Grime

open container? yes please!

We’ve all heard the stories about a friend getting busted on an open container violation. PERFECT! And we have all been at a party that got busted shortly after people started whispering “Who the FUCK invited the asshole in the sweatpants?” only to discover him pulling out his badge and breaking up the party. I mean, sorry officer undercover sweatpants? You’re not an asshole? (You are an asshole.)

This past summer was my first summer in New York City and I was very much looking forward to it. What I wasn’t looking forward to? The g.d. open container tickets. In a single weekend I had been with 3 people who had gotten open container tickets in two evenings.

The first incident took place upon arriving at a party on S. 4th in Williamsburg. Our 2 friends had come downstairs to let us into the party and stepped out the door to be instantly greeted with an officer. One girl dropped her drink and sprinted into the house. (Good move!) The other got slapped with a $35 dollar ticket as did another dude smoking a cigarette with a party cup full of beer in his hand. He very carefully (completely obviously) placed the cup down beside the building and then proceeded to piss and moan about how the cup was not his. Yeah. Ok, guy. welcome to liarsville: population you.

The following night we were trying to get a little buzzed before heading to the soul pop dance off at Glasslands. I had ridden my bike over that night to meet some friends at their place in greenpoint so I was saddled with a bike and a lock while my friends remained otherwise unencumbered. We stopped at a bodega to get some refreshments and the gentleman was kind enough to pour our sparks (RIP) into coffee cups for us. My friend D however had opted to get a Sapporo tall boy and the whole thing wouldn’t fit in the cup. So he kept the remainder in the paper bag and we went on our way.

Less than two blocks from the bodega we get stopped by two patrolman who ask D what exactly is in that paper bag he’s holding. So D is standing there with a coffee cup in one hand and a paper bag in the other trying not to draw attention to the rest of us each holding a coffee cup. The cop starts asking about how the coffee tastes with the beer and D says “Oh yeah I just got off of work. I’m a little tired and need to perk up before we go out.” We all just nodded very seriously.

So we are all standing there with our coffee cups full of alcohol waiting for two more officers to pull up in a squad car because they need the car to give the ticket. (Your tax dollars at work!) I notice that everyone else has clammed up and won’t dare to drink their “coffees.” The whole time I have been standing there chatting with one of the officers who couldn’t have been older than I am (call me!) and casually drinking while standing next to my bike. Suddenly the officer grilling D stops and looks at me and says “Is there really coffee in that cup?” At this point I could really give a shit so I say “Yes, sir!” take a nice sip of it and smile.

The cop starts giggling, hands D his ticket, says “enjoy your $35 beer,” and walks away leaving D with his half empty can of beer and the rest of us with our cups of sparks. (Mine was almost all gone!)

xo,
rile