Ok, so once isn't exactly true. That's what everyone says though right? "I only did it that one time." Truth is I got caught once. I'd actually done it several times before then. Don't worry, I'm not proud of myself, but I was 17, stupid, and a smoker. Something my parents didn't know yet. Oh they knew I was 17. They were there when I was born. And I'm pretty sure they knew I was prone to stupidity. If I interpreted the looks they gave me whenever I came up with one of my most brilliant ideas that I shared with them correctly. But as far as the smoking? No. They didn't know. But they were about to find out in the worst way possible.
Coming from a long line of nicotine junkies on my dad's side (my mom never smoked and her family lived far away so we weren't exposed to their non-smoking ways), it should have come as no surprise that one day I would light up in attempt to impress my friends while standing in the girls bathroom like you'd see in one of those afterschool specials. When I was a kid, I would buy candy cigarettes with my allowance money and pretend they were real. I would hold them like I'd seen my grandmother do so many times and would act out the process of inhaling and exhaling, minus the coughing fits of course, and then I would eat them. The candy. I never ate an actual cigarette. So one day when I had a friend over, we were bummed to discover that both of us were out of smokes. To appear cool, I told her no problem. We could just walk down to the store and steal some. I'd done it a couple times before and gotten away with it so I figured why not do it again. She thought I was absolutely crazy but went along with it because, after all, that's what friends do. I should have known the minute I looked outside that it was a bad idea. We would have to walk and it was raining. Naturally because this was the 80s, I could not get my hair wet. The can of aqua net I used to hold my hair in place, when mixed with rain, could form a helmet that even lasers couldn't penetrate. So I did the most obvious thing. I grabbed an umbrella. Here's the thing though. Anyone who has ever lived in Washington and is a teenager, will tell you that most teens will not and would not carry an umbrella. To do so draws attention and totally takes away from your cool factor. Why? I don't know. It just does. But I was having a good hair day for a change and was not going to ruin it. So off we went with the umbrella in tow. From the minute we walked into the store, we were noticed. As I closed the umbrella, but didn't bind it, we walked over to where the cigarettes were and I nonchalantly grabbed 2 packs. My friend was already telling me to abort the plan as she could feel the judging eyes of the store manager as we walked towards an aisle while sporting our ripped acid washed jeans and Ozzy t-shirts. I looked over at her, rolled my eyes, and told her to chill out. I knew what to do. I had this. Playing it cool, I took one of the cigarette packs, slid it down my arm so it would fall into the umbrella, and then acted like I was looking at stuff on the shelf. Standing there staring at the toilet paper, I glanced around to see if anyone was watching and then loudly declared, "Not the brand that mom likes," and headed back the front of the store where I set the other pack down, acting as though having the wrong toilet paper meant I wasn't going to purchase anything. To this day, I'm still not sure why I thought that would work. Needless to say it didn't and the store manager approached us just as we were trying to leave. While being escorted to the back of the store, I looked over at my friend who was absolutely livid, and did the one thing a cold hardened criminal like myself does in situations like this. I burst into tears.
Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, this was not the day and age of cellphones. I knew before our wet and menacing trek to the store that my parents were grocery shopping and would be gone for hours. Since the officer couldn't get a hold of them, I got to experience my first ride in the back of a cop car. I also got to experience what it's like to strip down to your bra and underwear and have a female officer pat you down while asking you to shake your hair so she can make sure you aren't hiding anything in it. Don't even get me started on the other places they think you might hide things. Who does that? After sitting in a holding cell for almost 2 hours (luckily they don't double up people in there), my parents finally arrived. And that's when they found out I was a smoker. After speaking to the lady behind the desk, they turned and looked at me through the little strip of glass that I could see out of from my area of isolation. The looks on their faces confirmed to me that living in a holding cell wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. It's not very big and there is writing on the wall (I don't even want to know how they managed to smuggle a pen in there) but it was quaint and once you get over your claustrophobia, it could be a nice place to live.
The ride back to the house was filled with silence and the occasional glance my way that said I was not their favorite child at the moment. Once we got home, the silence continued for about an hour or so until the flood gates opened and the whole neighborhood got to overhear how much trouble I was in. I swear they would wander out into their yards and act as if they were doing yard work just to overhear how long I'd be grounded this time. By the time my parents had exhausted themselves from all the yelling and disappointed looks thrown my way, I was officially grounded for life. I checked recently and found that it hasn't been lifted yet. After having to attend my diversion hearing (as it was called then), I also got to be made to feel guilty repeatedly as they reminded me on a regular basis that my dad would have to take a day off work to drive me to my mandatory shoplifting class that I had to attend. My sentence also included the fun task of doing community service. More on that later.
The class, which consisted of about 10 other kids and their parents, was easily one of the most humiliating experiences. Did I mention I had a practically naked pat down? Well this was worse. I think I've mentioned before that I have a tendency to try to act cool when, in fact, I am not. Well this was no different. In my never ending attempt to do just that, I did things that made little sense to anyone else but perfect sense to me. So with that, I figured I'd walk into this class and get myself a little street cred. You know, try to come off as someone whose "been there, done that." I mean yea, it was just a shoplifting charge. Hardly anything hardcore, but I decided I could cop enough of a 'tude to give the impression that this was the most minor thing I've ever done. Strut in as if this was hardly the first time I'd been in trouble with the law. So I rolled my shoulders, got a little sneer going on my face, (which made my dad look at me and ask me if I was feeling ok because he thought I looked like I was going to be sick), and walked in like I owned the place. Loudly chewing my gum in an attempt to look aloof, I stood there. The epitome of badassery....and then realized something. I'm the oldest person there (other than the parents of course).....by about 6 years.
Sitting in a circle, we had to go around the room, tell our names, and explain why we were there. I sat, mortified, and just stared at the group of kids that should have been in daycare. Getting a nudge from my dad signaled that it was my turn. I gave my name and told of my arrest in my best monotone voice to the yawns of what would be the future delinquents of America. Turns out I was the only "first timer" there. After a few mind numbing speeches by people of varying careers telling us what a life of crime would lead to and a couple activities where you had to pick partners and tell personal details about yourself, we were finally free to leave. I couldn't get out of the building fast enough. Bolting through the doors with my head down, my dad followed, sporting the same ridiculous grin on his face that he kept the whole time we were there.
I honestly thought nothing could be worse than that. Then I had to do my community service. At the junior high that my sister and her friends attended. So far, people only knew of the arrest but not the why. So naturally as never being one to learn a lesson, I try for the cool factor again. I take on the roll of teenage troublemaker. The kind of kid you don't want your children to hang out with. I act like the whole thing is no big deal. I talked of my stint in juvie like it's a normal thing and laughed as though I've ridden in many a cop car in my day. Totally played it off like I'm some tough chick you don't want to mess with. When the rumors started swirling that I was arrested due to an assault where I broke one girls nose and the arm of another, I did nothing to dispel them. I felt pretty important and the junior high kids who came into the office treated me like I was famous. When I would walk down to use the restroom, you could feel how the other girls were intimidated by my presence. I was on top of the world being immersed in teenage respect. That is until my sister, in her attempt to save my reputation, set the record straight and told everyone the actual story. In her defense, she actually did think she was helping. Of course that didn't stop me from refusing to speak to her for about a week and since we shared a room, drawing a line down the middle like a bad Brady bunch episode. But anyway, after about a month of having to endure the smirks of her classmates for a few hours every day, I completed my required time and am happy to report that I never once shoplifted again. If only I gave up trying to be cool as easy as that.
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