In the town I come from, the only thing to do is smoke weed and drink beer, and its population consists of a shitload of old people.
In July of 2002, two buddies and I were cruising down a road on the edge of a lake. It had a tight view, and I figured it could only be tighter if I was blazed. So we hit up my bubbler and toked it up. We finished two bowls and the car was already completely boxed. We were going 60 in a 45 when we passed a cop on the side of the road, and I immediately tensed up. The car was totally boxed and there was a combined three-fourths ounce between us, and my bubbler was wrapped in newspaper under my seat. We didn’t get pulled over, and the cop had faded from my rearview.
Unfortunately, we had to turn around to get back to the spot where we were gonna be chilling for the night. As we came around the same corner, we saw that the cop had disappeared. I was so relieved that I decided to pack another bowl. (FYI: my bubbler is huge and holds half an eighth). We lit up, and I had just taken a fatty rip when I glanced into my rear view mirror and saw a cop tailing us.
The same tension that had just fled rose up again, and my heart dropped. My parents were in Jersey for the summer with my brother and sister, so I was home alone with my grandma who really didn’t give a shit. How nice a present this would be, "Boy gets caught with 3/4 ounce of marijuana and paraphernalia - in his dad's car" Awesome.
After a bout of tailing us in absolute torment he pulls us over. The car is still boxed from the three previous bowls, and the cop comes up to the window. I roll it down and release Mary's sweet stench into the cop’s face. He backs away and tells me that my plates are expired. I almost believed he didn’t care about the weed, and then he told me to turn the car off and get out. I got out, he spread me, and searched me by his car. Then he got in my face and asked where the weed was. Being the stoned idiot that I was, I said, "What weed?" after just blowing three bowls in his face.
I figured I'd tell him where the smallest amount of weed was in the car, a 1/2 eighth under the front seat right next to my bubbler. He went in, found it and amazingly, didn’t come out with my bubbler. He pulled my two buddies out of the car, waved the bag in front of our faces, and asked us if we knew that we could get into some serious shit for it. I said, "yea," as did all of my buddies.
He told me to take it out and grind it up on the ground. I willingly did as I was told, and then he told me to look at his nametag. I looked at him weird as he said, "What's my name?"
I read the tag. "Uh… C.A. Love?"
He then replied, "Yea, remember that cus you got some fucking love today. Now get the fuck out of here!" and he let us off.
I almost hugged the fucking cop.