Today is Wednesday, September 23rd, 2009 and it is now 200 PM here in Brooklyn, NYC.
Monday I had to go take care of some paperwork for the storage unit I had contracted up in the Bronx, when I lost the lease on my flat in Betances Projects. So after dosing at the Methadone Clinic, and picking up my 2 take home bottles (I dose Monday, Thursday and Friday), I took the Q Train into the "City" (as Brooklynites usually call Manhattan). I then made the switch for the Bronx bound #6 Train (shout out to J-Lo, that big bootied ho).
Did my little thing and headed across my old neighbourhood (Mott Haven) for an easier ride back downtown on the 2 Train.
I got to the station (Hub, E149 St. and 3rd Ave.).
The following requires a tad bit of explaining so please bear with me. For the last few years subways have only accepted "Metrocards" for payment of fares. Metrocards are credit card sized pieces of bendable plastic with a magnetic strip on the bottom. At the turnstile you swipe your card through the "reader" and it deducts your fare.
For the last 3 years the city has been eliminating the position and responsibility of the "Token Clerk," the person who here to fore sat in a bullet proof metal booth and sold the cards, etc. Now one must buy their card from a vending machine.
These machines, computerised, break down quite often and even when working often refuse to accept bills because of some imperceptible flaw. This causes a great many hassles as one might imagine.
Because of that huge problem I buy mine from grocery stores, etc. When you buy cards in this manner they come in shrink wrapped plastic.
Now...approaching the turnstile I begin removing 1 of my 2 shrinkwrapped cards from my front jeans pocket, only to be grabbed by 2 undercover pigs. Throwing cuffs on me they refused to tell me what they were doing, only talking to direct me as they searched me and the small plastic bag I was carrying.
When the 1 officer searched my bag you could see the gleam in his eye as he saw my methadone. Making some asinine comment about my being in a heap of trouble I had to burst his pork flavoured bubble to inform him to look a tiny bit more at the bottles, as in "Read the Prescription Labels on each." Barely able to deciper my name (Rachamim Ra'anan Ben Ami" I then told him he would find a curious thing if he bothered to closely inspect my wallet. It was then that he realised that the bottles were completely legal.
At that point he became rather accomodating. Back in the day NYC cops always opened ur bottles and poured them out in front of you, to torture you as much as possible. This officer though told me calmly that I better decide if I wanted to drink one or both now because regulations prohibit the transport of any liquids.
I was taken aback by what seemed to be genuine civility and asked him if it was not at all possible to voucher it so that I could pick it up upon my release. I had just dosed and IF I was going to be released that day, or even the next I did not want to have to do without my meds.
Finally he agreed upon the condition that when we arrived at the police station I would have someone come pick it up along with all my personal effects. Not bad I thought.
I was put in an NYPD marked van with a couple of other men and driven all the way to E180th St. and Morris Park Bvd., home of the District 12 Transit Police station. Dropped in a holding cell with about 15 other men, next to a holding cell filled with teenaged high school girls who had been in a huge street fight, before turning on the police who came to break it up. As the girls continued their cacophany of non-sensical chatter, and the man around me moaned (from that same chatter), He same offficer handed me my Sidekick (mobile phone with internet, the same device I am composing this entry on at the moment), so as to arrange for someone to come and pick up my personal effects in the event that I would be transported to Central Booking and actually enter the correctional system.
I IMed a woman who was a neighbour of mine in Betances, as my family and friends are in Brooklyn and even if I had chosen to let them know my situation (and I never would) they would not have had time enough to come and get it.
I then decided that I ought to drink1 of the take home bottles just in case she did not come in time. I then began my nod in the cell.
One by one the men in the cell with me were released on DATs. A "DAT" is NYPD speak for "Desk Appearance Ticket." As the name suggests, it is a summons (intermediate form) that allows the police to release directly from the station, as opposed to having to go through actual Booking as they entered the system.
You get put in the cell, you remove belts and shoe laces and surrender them. You are researched, you have to clap your shoes together to make anything you have cached there fall to the ground.
Then they print you (take your Fingerprints) on a computerised machine that does not require ink. It checks them, connects them to a databank that Pedigrees (correlates all relevant data) the arrestee.
If your Pedigree shows no outstanding warrants, and you are arrested for a misdemeanour, you will most likely get a DAT. The thing is, I still had no fucking idea why I was in jail! Everytime I got loud through the bars they would yank my proverbial chain, "Don't worry, ya' gonna' get out in a bit. Got any warrants? Nah? Den' don't worry. Youse guys are always aksin' dis' and dat' but youse nevah' staht' to think about ya' own akshunz'...." My actions? WTF? I had merely been pulling my Metrocard out of my pocket.
Anyway, I was placed in the cell about 1 PM. About 7 they tell me I have "3 or 4" Warrants. I had gone to my attorney in 2003 to clear anything I might have incurred in my earlier years (prior to 1997 everything short of gun offences was DAtd and if you did not show up for your initial court date you incurred a Warrant). My attorney found 6, we cleared them in 2 days , end of story. There fore I knew I had none but you cannot argue this because if they say you do, you just have to tell it to the judge.
At 9 PM they took 4 men and myself to Bronx Central Booking, which is located in the Old Criminal Courthouse on E161st ST. Court runs from 930 AM until 2 AM, 7 days a week. I had hoped of seeing the judge quickly.
As the van is pulling up to the entrance, it maneuvered to park on the street, as there is no protected parking area as one sees at Manhattan Central Booking. As this youg semi-retarded cop attempted to parallel park, over and over, some fat white man drives up and tells the cop to get of his spot!
Turns out the guy in the car is a Fire Dept. EMT, who screens all new defendants entering Booking. So they got into a pissing contest, before the cops ushered us inside.
So we are Pedigreed again, and now must go through that bullshit medical screening. Only thing is, the EMT will not see us because he is pissed at the cop that drove us!!!
We finally got upstairs to the Booking Holding Cells, but it was already 1130 PM and we would have to wait until the next say since the arrestees already on the next floor up, 3rd Floor (where courtrooms are) were backed up.
I spent a hellish night sleeping on a bench, trying to not get into a fight (only 1 guy got on my nerves), thinking I was being held on some bullshit misdemeanour like "Fare Evasion," etc.
At 830 AM Tuesday morning an attorney from "Bronx Defenders" (with a misdemeanous I would not contact my own lawyer because on top of the Retainer I would have to ocough up about 1500 just for a Bronx Appearance, and more for night time which is what I had been counting on) came to see me. I am chained up, escorted to the little cubicles they use, and am told that the Warrants were errors, but that they claimed that they had witnessed me...and this is fucking hilarious...pick up a used Metrocard off of the ground, bend it (to compromise the magnetic strip) and offer to skim passengers in for 1 Dollar (fare is 2.25). I got very angry, and she copped an attitude. I told her to check any voucher report, how many singles did I have, most of all the station is loaded with CCTV cams. But then she dropped the bombshell.
While I was out of the country they had passed a law making the action a Class D Felony!!! Now I am sweating bullets...
I am placed in a call closer to the coury and 15 minutes later I am sent in front of the judge. The ADA ("Asst. District Attorney" AKA Prosecutor) claimed that I was a danger to society, and asked for 3,000 US Bail!
The judge literally laughed at him, nodded her head as if saying, "You pricks are something else" and released me ROR ("Released on your Own Recognisance"), meaning without bail.
I was given a court date of 10/29 but I surely be halfway around the world and am considering not even asking for a long continuance since I hate this country anyway, but i am still thinking it through.
Tomorrow I have a meeting with my own attorney on this case, so maybe he cans squash it. Then comes the lawsuit.
Only 23 hours inside, but enough.
Monday I had to go take care of some paperwork for the storage unit I had contracted up in the Bronx, when I lost the lease on my flat in Betances Projects. So after dosing at the Methadone Clinic, and picking up my 2 take home bottles (I dose Monday, Thursday and Friday), I took the Q Train into the "City" (as Brooklynites usually call Manhattan). I then made the switch for the Bronx bound #6 Train (shout out to J-Lo, that big bootied ho).
Did my little thing and headed across my old neighbourhood (Mott Haven) for an easier ride back downtown on the 2 Train.
I got to the station (Hub, E149 St. and 3rd Ave.).
The following requires a tad bit of explaining so please bear with me. For the last few years subways have only accepted "Metrocards" for payment of fares. Metrocards are credit card sized pieces of bendable plastic with a magnetic strip on the bottom. At the turnstile you swipe your card through the "reader" and it deducts your fare.
For the last 3 years the city has been eliminating the position and responsibility of the "Token Clerk," the person who here to fore sat in a bullet proof metal booth and sold the cards, etc. Now one must buy their card from a vending machine.
These machines, computerised, break down quite often and even when working often refuse to accept bills because of some imperceptible flaw. This causes a great many hassles as one might imagine.
Because of that huge problem I buy mine from grocery stores, etc. When you buy cards in this manner they come in shrink wrapped plastic.
Now...approaching the turnstile I begin removing 1 of my 2 shrinkwrapped cards from my front jeans pocket, only to be grabbed by 2 undercover pigs. Throwing cuffs on me they refused to tell me what they were doing, only talking to direct me as they searched me and the small plastic bag I was carrying.
When the 1 officer searched my bag you could see the gleam in his eye as he saw my methadone. Making some asinine comment about my being in a heap of trouble I had to burst his pork flavoured bubble to inform him to look a tiny bit more at the bottles, as in "Read the Prescription Labels on each." Barely able to deciper my name (Rachamim Ra'anan Ben Ami" I then told him he would find a curious thing if he bothered to closely inspect my wallet. It was then that he realised that the bottles were completely legal.
At that point he became rather accomodating. Back in the day NYC cops always opened ur bottles and poured them out in front of you, to torture you as much as possible. This officer though told me calmly that I better decide if I wanted to drink one or both now because regulations prohibit the transport of any liquids.
I was taken aback by what seemed to be genuine civility and asked him if it was not at all possible to voucher it so that I could pick it up upon my release. I had just dosed and IF I was going to be released that day, or even the next I did not want to have to do without my meds.
Finally he agreed upon the condition that when we arrived at the police station I would have someone come pick it up along with all my personal effects. Not bad I thought.
I was put in an NYPD marked van with a couple of other men and driven all the way to E180th St. and Morris Park Bvd., home of the District 12 Transit Police station. Dropped in a holding cell with about 15 other men, next to a holding cell filled with teenaged high school girls who had been in a huge street fight, before turning on the police who came to break it up. As the girls continued their cacophany of non-sensical chatter, and the man around me moaned (from that same chatter), He same offficer handed me my Sidekick (mobile phone with internet, the same device I am composing this entry on at the moment), so as to arrange for someone to come and pick up my personal effects in the event that I would be transported to Central Booking and actually enter the correctional system.
I IMed a woman who was a neighbour of mine in Betances, as my family and friends are in Brooklyn and even if I had chosen to let them know my situation (and I never would) they would not have had time enough to come and get it.
I then decided that I ought to drink1 of the take home bottles just in case she did not come in time. I then began my nod in the cell.
One by one the men in the cell with me were released on DATs. A "DAT" is NYPD speak for "Desk Appearance Ticket." As the name suggests, it is a summons (intermediate form) that allows the police to release directly from the station, as opposed to having to go through actual Booking as they entered the system.
You get put in the cell, you remove belts and shoe laces and surrender them. You are researched, you have to clap your shoes together to make anything you have cached there fall to the ground.
Then they print you (take your Fingerprints) on a computerised machine that does not require ink. It checks them, connects them to a databank that Pedigrees (correlates all relevant data) the arrestee.
If your Pedigree shows no outstanding warrants, and you are arrested for a misdemeanour, you will most likely get a DAT. The thing is, I still had no fucking idea why I was in jail! Everytime I got loud through the bars they would yank my proverbial chain, "Don't worry, ya' gonna' get out in a bit. Got any warrants? Nah? Den' don't worry. Youse guys are always aksin' dis' and dat' but youse nevah' staht' to think about ya' own akshunz'...." My actions? WTF? I had merely been pulling my Metrocard out of my pocket.
Anyway, I was placed in the cell about 1 PM. About 7 they tell me I have "3 or 4" Warrants. I had gone to my attorney in 2003 to clear anything I might have incurred in my earlier years (prior to 1997 everything short of gun offences was DAtd and if you did not show up for your initial court date you incurred a Warrant). My attorney found 6, we cleared them in 2 days , end of story. There fore I knew I had none but you cannot argue this because if they say you do, you just have to tell it to the judge.
At 9 PM they took 4 men and myself to Bronx Central Booking, which is located in the Old Criminal Courthouse on E161st ST. Court runs from 930 AM until 2 AM, 7 days a week. I had hoped of seeing the judge quickly.
As the van is pulling up to the entrance, it maneuvered to park on the street, as there is no protected parking area as one sees at Manhattan Central Booking. As this youg semi-retarded cop attempted to parallel park, over and over, some fat white man drives up and tells the cop to get of his spot!
Turns out the guy in the car is a Fire Dept. EMT, who screens all new defendants entering Booking. So they got into a pissing contest, before the cops ushered us inside.
So we are Pedigreed again, and now must go through that bullshit medical screening. Only thing is, the EMT will not see us because he is pissed at the cop that drove us!!!
We finally got upstairs to the Booking Holding Cells, but it was already 1130 PM and we would have to wait until the next say since the arrestees already on the next floor up, 3rd Floor (where courtrooms are) were backed up.
I spent a hellish night sleeping on a bench, trying to not get into a fight (only 1 guy got on my nerves), thinking I was being held on some bullshit misdemeanour like "Fare Evasion," etc.
At 830 AM Tuesday morning an attorney from "Bronx Defenders" (with a misdemeanous I would not contact my own lawyer because on top of the Retainer I would have to ocough up about 1500 just for a Bronx Appearance, and more for night time which is what I had been counting on) came to see me. I am chained up, escorted to the little cubicles they use, and am told that the Warrants were errors, but that they claimed that they had witnessed me...and this is fucking hilarious...pick up a used Metrocard off of the ground, bend it (to compromise the magnetic strip) and offer to skim passengers in for 1 Dollar (fare is 2.25). I got very angry, and she copped an attitude. I told her to check any voucher report, how many singles did I have, most of all the station is loaded with CCTV cams. But then she dropped the bombshell.
While I was out of the country they had passed a law making the action a Class D Felony!!! Now I am sweating bullets...
I am placed in a call closer to the coury and 15 minutes later I am sent in front of the judge. The ADA ("Asst. District Attorney" AKA Prosecutor) claimed that I was a danger to society, and asked for 3,000 US Bail!
The judge literally laughed at him, nodded her head as if saying, "You pricks are something else" and released me ROR ("Released on your Own Recognisance"), meaning without bail.
I was given a court date of 10/29 but I surely be halfway around the world and am considering not even asking for a long continuance since I hate this country anyway, but i am still thinking it through.
Tomorrow I have a meeting with my own attorney on this case, so maybe he cans squash it. Then comes the lawsuit.
Only 23 hours inside, but enough.
