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Anyone On The Pit Been To Jail/Prison?

Shooshmoo

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If so, for what and for how long.

I almost went to jail when I was 18 for being drunk at a waterpark. I apparently pushed some kids off the karaoke stage, tried to sing, and then was chased through the lazy river and eventually apprehended. Wasn't put in a cell because the jails were full. Don't remember anything until the next morning.

Anyone else?

Inspired by the other thread about prison.
 
myrtle beach drunk tank for a couple of hours.

arrested for underage possession (drinking on the street, yeah, smart) about 2 weeks before my 21st birthday. nothing too remarkable happened in there that i can recall.
 
Rock Hill, SC for about 4 or 5 hours until bail could be posted back in the 80s.
 
My lover and I went to the Dekalb County jail together for a little indiscretion we had in the woods during the Stone Mountain laser show. It just made things hotter.
 
Investigated by the FBI when I was in middle school. They thought I was a pawn in a larger terrorist attack that involved blowing up tires.

Never jail time.
 
Investigated by the FBI when I was in middle school. They thought I was a pawn in a larger terrorist attack that involved blowing up tires.

Never jail time.

Also investigated by the FBI because I had just moved into an apartment that had apparently been used as a stop on a gun-running trail from FL into the Northeast. But was never arrested or jailed.
 
Charleston, SC and somewhere in the vicinity of Radford, VA and Blacksburg, VA. Both drinking related.
 
We went to Brennan’s to have lunch/brunch. We stayed there way too long leaving about 1AM. As we walked down Bourbon Street, staggered would be more accurate, a guy was screaming, “Anyone got Super Bowl tickets?”

I said, “We do.”

“He said I’ll give $1000 apiece for them.”

I had never said they were for sale only that we had them.

“Wow. A couple friends of ours aren’t going to make it to the game.”

Out of the darkness came another guy, “You and you, you’re under arrest. Give us the tickets.”

They flashed badges, took our tickets and hand-cuffed Greg and I. Moshe started giving them shit. They gave him a ticket for interfering with a police office. Then they put us in the back seat of their police car and told Moshe and Betty where they were taking us.

As we went there one cop said, “Don’t worry. We’ll take your tickets and charge you with scalping. You lose the tickets, but it’s only a $50 fine.”

The other cop said. ”Y’all can pay the fine and be on your way after processing.”

What fucking liars these two were. We got to the station, were fingerprinted, had mug shots taken and were taken to jail.

As we were about to be put in the holding cell, we asked the booking guy what our bail was. “You two have $5000 cash bond because you are from out of state.”

I was stunned. “The officers told us it would be $50.”

“It would have been for scalping. They charged you with conspiracy to commit scalping. That could mean Angola.”

Holy fucking shit! What the fuck was this. They put us in the holding cell. There was one pay phone in there for all of us. I waited my turn and called my lawyer back in Jersey.

“I’m in jail.”

“Don’t worry. I can get you out in any one of the forty-nine states. Where are you?”

“What do you mean forty-nine states? Was there a tsunami in Hawaii while we were drinking today?”

“Louisiana doesn’t count. They have Napoleonic Law. Where are you?”

“New Orleans.”

“Shit. Try to be safe. I’ll see what I can do.”

That was easy for him to say. He was lying in bed with his beautiful wife. Sitting next to me was a guy who shot someone in the head over a $5 drug deal. Sitting next to Greg was a guy who was charged with kidnapping and rape. It wasn’t very difficult not to fall asleep that night in the holding cell.

Angola, we could be sent to the worst state prison in America for thinking about selling Super Bowl tickets. What kind of place were we in?

Soon we were being taken up to the see the Magistrate. As they strip searched us, the jailer handed the New Orleans Times-Picayune. “You might like Page 3.”

I almost shit on the floor. It was all about us. California pair comes to New Orleans to sell Super Bowl for $1000 on Bourbon Street. We were so fucked. How could this be happening to me? I wanted to kill Greg right that minute.

I was handcuffed to the drug guy in the court. Moshe and Betty were in the gallery. We could see the judge, DA and bailiff all looking at the paper. They were chuckling and pointing at us. That wasn’t a good sign.

All of a sudden a short, light-skinned, black man comes running into the courtroom. He waves at the DA and judge. They smile at him. He walks over to the holding area.

“Who is Rick?”

“I am.”

“I’m your lawyer. Do you have $100?”

“Not really. I was in jail all night. My friends over there should.”

“OK, I’ll take care of everything.”

Moshe gave him some money. He went over to talk to the DA and judge. They motioned to the jailer. He unhooked Greg and I and told us we could go.

I was more confused than I had ever been during this entire odyssey as we all left the courtroom. As the door hit my butt I stopped. “First are we OK.”

The lawyer was holding hands with his girlfriend. “Everything is fine.”

“Since we’re in New Orleans, please excuse my French, but I’ve been in jail and handcuffed to a guy who shot someone over a $5 drug deal. Who the hell are you? How the hell did you get here to help us? Not that I’m complaining.”

“My cousin was your lawyer’s roommate in law school. I got a call at 3AM that you might be on your way to Angola. I didn’t think that was a good place for you. So here I am.”

Thank you. What should I call you?”

“Morial.”

“As in Dutch Morial, the mayor?”

“I think I might know him.” He said with a smile.

“How much do we owe you?”

“How about lunch for my lady and myself?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”
 
Last edited:
holy shit, RJ. Your story couldn't be shorter than that?

Edited: I read it. No offense, RJ, since you can write entertaining stories, but I don't believe that one.
 
Last edited:
holy shit, RJ. Your story couldn't be shorter than that?

Edited: I read it. No offense, RJ, since you can write entertaining stories, but I don't believe that one.

Way to call me a liar.....Go fuck yourself....that is what happened and how it happened.....
 
was arrested for underage drinking and running from the cops. some buddies went downtown too.

was fingerprinted too but not put in a cell.

my old man was really happy to get woken up to come get me.
 
DSD is correct....that is one of the exerpts from my book. It was posted on the old board.
 
The one that was in New Orleans, DUH!

well, there were probably 2 (maybe 3) held in new orleans when morial was the mayor. if the archives for the times-picayune are online it's easy enough to check.

i am too lazy to do it
 
Twice. Both one night visits. The food they serve you for breakfast is horrible. The combo urinal/toilet off the wall is down right nasty.
 
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