Thick_as_a_Planck
Bluelighter
A while back I was smoking a joint in the park in Southampton (for anyone familar with the city, we were in the little secluded bit behind the statue next to Que Pasa). I was with about six others, all students.
So, there we were, smoking away. Suddenly a totally fucked-up guy arrives though the bushes, possibly coming to take a piss or maybe drawn by the smell. He immediately starts angling for a toke and we say no, no, private party, sorry man. He leaves in a huff.
About a minute later, four policemen arrive on the scene, piling in from two different directions like it was some sort of major drugs bust, they even had a dog in tow. I have the joint in my hand, and a satchel with about another quarter inside (just about enough to be arrested, even for class C). We all stand up and as we do so I put the joint on the ground and slip my bag from my shoulder. I make no attempt to hide this action since I assume the cops have seen the joint in my hand.
My students (all foreigners) give a dazzling array of false names and incomprehensible addresses - though I had my license in my pocket so had to give my real name. However, this being England three years ago, they didn't arrest anyone, just moaned a bit. (One of them was a bit of a cunt actually, but he couldn't legally do anything)
The point of the story is this... the cops never found the joint or the stash in my bag - they didn't even seem to see the bag on the ground! To this day I have no idea how they missed it, it was nighttime but there are floodlights around and it's not exactly dark there. Also the dog must have had a blocked nose or something, I don't know.
Much later, staggering home after drinking a lot, I started wondering if maybe the joint was still there. So I went back to the scene of the crime and, after less than thirty seconds searching, found it. Confident in my new found luck, I smoked it quite openly while strolling through the park, and arrived home utterly fucked and feeling very smug.
So, there we were, smoking away. Suddenly a totally fucked-up guy arrives though the bushes, possibly coming to take a piss or maybe drawn by the smell. He immediately starts angling for a toke and we say no, no, private party, sorry man. He leaves in a huff.
About a minute later, four policemen arrive on the scene, piling in from two different directions like it was some sort of major drugs bust, they even had a dog in tow. I have the joint in my hand, and a satchel with about another quarter inside (just about enough to be arrested, even for class C). We all stand up and as we do so I put the joint on the ground and slip my bag from my shoulder. I make no attempt to hide this action since I assume the cops have seen the joint in my hand.
My students (all foreigners) give a dazzling array of false names and incomprehensible addresses - though I had my license in my pocket so had to give my real name. However, this being England three years ago, they didn't arrest anyone, just moaned a bit. (One of them was a bit of a cunt actually, but he couldn't legally do anything)
The point of the story is this... the cops never found the joint or the stash in my bag - they didn't even seem to see the bag on the ground! To this day I have no idea how they missed it, it was nighttime but there are floodlights around and it's not exactly dark there. Also the dog must have had a blocked nose or something, I don't know.
Much later, staggering home after drinking a lot, I started wondering if maybe the joint was still there. So I went back to the scene of the crime and, after less than thirty seconds searching, found it. Confident in my new found luck, I smoked it quite openly while strolling through the park, and arrived home utterly fucked and feeling very smug.