College Offenses Of A Different Kind

This blog needs a CloseToJumping tag.

Started one-man attempt at beerlympics in the courtyard-area of an enclosed apartment complex on West Campus. Did not make it past the “discus” portion, which involved me spinning in a circle holding lawn-chairs and randomly releasing them against railings, windows, and doors or the complex. Two busted windows later, policia, screams of “mi no Alamo, mi no Goliad” fall on deaf ears.

So you’re the son of a bitch who stole the Abels sign.

And I have no idea what you’re getting at here. I never rode in the front seat of a UHaul while a buddy ran over an entire bus stop, a mailbox, several stop / street signs, and numerous parking meters.

I spent a night in jail after trying to steal a case of Patron from a bar in Fort Worth called the ‘Neon Moon.’ Woke up in the drunk tank and saw another dude wearing my shoes. I didn’t ask for them back.

Got an MIP, and on a separate occasion got cited for an open container. Narrowly missed a DUI when the cops decided for some reason to not test me. Knew a guy that worked at a convenience store and would let us come in and take beer without paying. I guess that’s called “theft”. Got busted in Lousiana trying to use a fake ID. Nice Lousiana cops let me go back to the bus as opposed to prison.

I’m going to stop there. This is kind of depressing me, as up until now I always thought of myself as being a good kid.

The above pretty much sums up high school for me, except it left out rural mailboxes and baseball bats. (In hindsight, that’s gotta be federal).

By college I’d settled down a bit.

Great post, and I fully agree with your assertion that zero tolerance is bullshit.

It is entirely possible that I MAY have been present when a payphone was ALLEGEDLY stolen using a truck, some chain, and some thinking lubricant. But hey, a bets a bet and that phone had it coming. Just glad I survived college to become the fine, upstanding citizen that I am.

My low point was getting kicked out of a bar on 6th on New Year’s Eve, can’t remember the name. Apparently I was being belligerent. Can’t remember that either. I made friends with the break dancers outside though. Learned some new moves, salvaged the evening.

I guess that’s not very subversive. I feel like Molly Ringwold in the breakfast club.

HenryJames said:
March 29th, 2010 at 1:19 pm

This blog needs a CloseToJumping tag.

Or RansomStoddard!

I too always have a good laugh at the holier-than-thou attitude of some people when reading about the latest relatively minor escapade of their rival in the news. Even my own friends start down this path sometimes and I have to be like, “dude, did you forget about the time you covered your hotel room in hawaiian punch shortly after punching the security guard in the parking lot?”

My uncaught wrap sheet is similar to Scipio, only add in a few other misbehaviors in mexico that very well could have sent things spiraling downward in a hurry (and I don’t even want to think about doing in today’s climate down there).

Goodness, this is going to have as many hits as an UT/OU open thread.

Lots come to mind. I’ll go with the old, fleeing from the scene of an accident. Me and a buddy were going to get rations before a Miami/UF game (or maybe FSU). I got cut off at an intersection and stopped, about this time a car came through and barreled into me. Legally I think it was my fault since I was just sitting there stopped. I blame the cocksucker that cut me off. I didn’t stick around to find out the particulars. I told the guy in the other car his ride was OK. I had alcohol in me, no insurance, and no reason to stick around. I was jumping curbs and got the hell out. My truck had about $3000 worth of damage to it. I liked super sweet rolling around with bungee cords holding my hood down.

As far as DUI’s, I have no idea how I don’t have one. I’ve been at the back of my truck atleast 5 times, and either passed them, or was offered the chance to have someone pick me up.

Dudes with sleeveless polos and lines in their eye brows must be kicked.

Does being forced to strip for a sorority tear night, doing 20+ shots, and ending up outside in an intersection directing traffic naked covered with chocolate and whipcream count?

My offenses include the Following:

1. Drop Kicking Rural Mailbox’s
2. Paintballing Rural Houses
3. Being pulled over under age with a cooler full of beer and 2 bottles of crown. Poor them out infront of a liqour store and then given a speeding ticket and sent on my way. Celebrated with a Dairy Queen Blizzard.
4. Pissing infront of a cop and then out running him in flip flops(last time i wore those).

I spent a night in the clink. How proud my parents must have been, had they been there to witness the female police officer handing me my personal possessions and giggling while saying “I’ve been doing this for a long time, and you called us some names I’ve never heard before” in a somewhat admiring tone.

That combined with the nerve damage in my hand when every time I dazzled them with my rapier wit, they tightened the cuffs a notch. And they kept me long past the time when they were supposed to have me in front of a judge, to reward me for my cooperative outlook.

Oh well, that’s what a 12 pack of Shiner Bock on a blistering July Saturday followed by uncounted kamikaze shots at the Red Lion will get you.

It was a crowded Saturday night, too. Fortunately, I enjoyed the protection of a large man who recognized my last name, since my sister was the sports editor of The Pine Log when he was a running back at Stephen F. Austin. Small world.

And in addition to that incident, you can add a number of DUIs, vandalism, theft (Scip, we share thieving tendencies – I took the “No Minors” sign from Club No Minors in Houston, and wore it on my forehead for the rest of the evening…which as I recall was the day before my GMAT), and destruction of property. Not to mention I occasionally wore stonewashed jeans, which should invoke a no tolerance policy.

Among other incidents …

Once upon a time there was a large blue mail dropbox on the corner of 43rd & Duval in between Fresh Plus and Pronto. You might have noticed it’s not there anymore?

Ha ha ha ha!

Allegedly, upon my return trip home from the three block jaunt to Pronto on an unnecessary late night beer run, I may have plowed into said mailbox causing a plume of mail to erupt from the blowhole of big blue. The next morning I found pieces of mail stuck in my windshield wipers and had no recollection of how it got there. The dent in my front right panel and bent wheel apparently weren’t sufficient clues.

I honestly had no idea what happened to my car or where this mysterious mail came from until a few weeks later when I went to use that mailbox again. It’s absence triggered a painful montage of my role in the preceding events and I still wonder what happened to The Undelivered every time I pass that corner.

Sorry if any of it was yours.

Quick, lawyers, what is the statute of limitations on insurance fraud?

Ever been so drunk you woke up in an alley? What about in the back seat of a stranger’s car, covered in vomit and your own blood? Tripled the speed limit?

Uh, me neither.

BrickHorn is drafting up at least 15 lawsuits right now. We didn’t think this through very well.

scally will pick up his leftovers.

Second hand story alert. I trust the narrator though.

Apparently either Ricky’s Jr. or Sr. year he was sitting on the curb on 6th St. He was pretty out of it and my boy (who kind of new him) asked him if he was alright. Ricky said yeah, he just needed a ride home. They get to the car and now the math is kicking in. It’s obvious that everyone isn’t going to fit in the car. Ricky without skipping a beat tells them to pop the trunk. Just like he was one of the fellas, a low ranking fella, Ricky jumped in and got a ride home. I chuckle at the mental image of the greatest college running back (eff you Ron Dayne!) of all time riding in the trunk of a compact.

No crimes were committed, this is probably the closest thread we’ll have to that story being relevant.

So when is BC going to start it’s own Fulmer Cup?

Trips wants to know if crimes committed on foreign soil count.

Trespassing
Buddy calls and says hey come over and have a few beers. Look for my white pickup outside. So I head over to where he just moved and it being Stillwater theirs 3 white pickups within 10 houses of each other. My dumb ass picks the one I think it is and walk right in, once again its Stillwater, the door is open. I head to the fridge when I hear “uhh excuse me” and turn around to see a pretty girl in nothing but a towel.

Sadly porn is much more exciting than how the rest of that story went. She handled it well. I asked for my friend she said he doesn’t live here and I left.

Oh and I actually got a DUI

Not a single urinating in public yet? Really?

I made my mark on a historical landmark downtown and running from the security guard, crossed the street with my paints still unzipped, with my friends guiding me

I can relate to all of this. The amount of stupid shit I did between the ages of ~14 to ~21 was ridiculous.

I still have the Neighborhood Watch sign in my garage. The DPS light was given away years ago.

And occasionally I have to admit I spent a night in jail. The most ridiculous time was during a team-building exercise at Barton Creek Country Club. We’re all in a circle in a large room, wondering if time can pass any slower. “Everyone who has spent a night in jail, run to the center…” I trot out with a couple of other guys to roars of laughter.

As for the arrest, apparently the quickest way to go downtown is to ask an officer what his badge number is.

“Not a single urinating in public yet?”

I got one pissing off the back of my girlfriend’s boat on Lake Austin. It was October, almost dusk, too cold to get in the water, and not a single other boat in sight. That is, until boat-cop drives up during a 3 minute long urination and tickets me.

The road trip to B/CS for the annual ass kicking at the hands of the aggys (circa 1989) was one for the record books…er, police files. In addition to imbibing a 12-pack or more with my roommate before beginning the pilgrimage, we quickly turned State Highway 21 into our personal commodes several times, including waving at the passers by on occasion…you could feel the love amongst my fellow travelers, although State Trooper #1 was not as happy to make our acquaintence.

Upon arriving in B/CS, we seek refuge at a friends’ apartment for necessary vomit relief. Unfortunately, we entered the wrong apartment (damn those 500-unit complexes). After a few minutes of not realizing the female decor of the place, we decided it was time to leave…but too late! The occupants were coming upstairs as we were departing the place…with their VCR under my roommate’s arm. We made a bee-line for the back balcony, leapt to our near death, and scurried off to shouts of “hey, those guys are stealing my stuff…get ’em”. We made it back to my truck, sans keys, and passed out in the parking lot.

I believe that night alone constituted three felonies (DWI, B&E, Theft) and at least 5 misdemeanors (DUI, MIP, Wreckless driving, public urination, public intoxication). Fortunately, I was only charged with public urination out of all those offense…now I know what it feels like to be a Left Tackle for OU.

Ummm….where to start….

I disclosed the following on my bar application-

3 MIPs, one of which was one of those South Padre ones Scip mentioned but I still told the state bar about just in case (sure enough, South Padre has no record of it), a disturbing the peace for urinating in an alley, one night in a Refugio jail for DUI (no conviction but that was finally the incident that scared my ass straight), a driving with no insurance and several failures to appear.

I figure i got caught about once for every 20 dumb things i did so I have at least several dozen more along the lines of what scip described. I was truly an idiot.

As a Freshman getting in the car at 2:00 in the morning and driving to College Station with 3 friends, going to the stadium, and taking turns pissing on the 12th man statute.

Junior year drinking at 9:00 in the morning in preparation for a day party, going to pick up a friend in Tarrytown, and running over at least 10 street signs in my friend’s massive truck.

Junior year again, driving down the drag with 5 drunk freshmen in the back of my truck, having a cop pull behind me and follow without turning on his lights. I drove the speed limit and calmly pulled into the Villas parking garage, he followed, and I punched the gas and drove up to the top story at about 40 MPH. Then we all jumped out of the truck and ran down the stairs, and saw the cop driving up to the top. I don’t thinkwent back to get my truck for a week.

Played a midnight round of golf at Hancock once, used a friend’s Chevy van as a cart. Had to have someplace to put the keg.

“There is a Whataburger off of Oltorf still experiencing post-traumatic stress syndrome from my late night visit there my junior year.”

I too lived off of Riverside around 98-99 ish and had many interesting evenings at that Whataburger. One night I was so drunk I ended up having a conversation at the counter about what to do with the cheating cashier’s girlfriend. Fortunately I sobered up to the reality that I was actually discussing how to dispose of her body before I got the hell out of there. Not sure if he ever killed her or not. Bacon taquitos were my mission that 2 AM.

“Played a midnight round of golf at Hancock once, used a friend’s Chevy van as a cart. Had to have someplace to put the keg.”

Going down the hills on 1 and 9 must have been near death.

Pepper sprayed cop while trying to stop Klotz from fighting outside the pig Senior year.

Pepper sprayed while waiting in line for scary pizza by the Ritz Senior year.

Stepped on by horse cop the night I talked VY out of a fight on 6th street Senior year.

Charged with Inciting a Riot when fighting a Silver Spur for leaving a 56-10 game early…reason for my anger, he is in a spirit organization and shouldn’t leave early.

UIPP on 21st bday, under stairs where those guys used to paint the weird outerspace pictures

There has to be more, they just aren’t coming to me at the moment.

*pepper sprayed by cop

…no I am not so badass that I pepper sprayed a cop

“"Not a single urinating in public yet?"”

How about on the side of the Superdome after the 1995 Sugar Bowl. There is a poster here who can verify if he’d like.

Crystal Beach, TX

Urinating in Public

I am chaperoning half a dozen Kincaid queers at one of the greatest conflagrations of white trash in the history of man, The Zoo, Spring Break Saturday, Bolivar Peninsual circa 2002. We load lawn chairs in the back of my truck to cruise the sights and about halfway through the only beachfront traffic jam in Texas the mother of all urinations hit my bladder (this is the 32 oz gatorade with Goody’s and Vodka after a full night in the Shark Tank). I jump out of my truck while it is running, sprint in flip flops 50 yards through the sand to a Port-a-John that is overflowing with excrement stained water. I think of open toed shoes and infectious disease and decide to piss in the dunes.

During my orgasmic, three gallon, release, a patrol truck pulls up and shines a flashlight in my face at noon on a sunny spring Saturday.

“Son, what would the Crustal Beach look like if everyone pissed in the dunes?”

[looks around in contemplation] “Pretty much like it does now.”

“Get in the car, son.”

“Yes sir.”

“*pepper sprayed by cop

…no I am not so badass that I pepper sprayed a cop"

Should have kept it that way. Way cooler.

Other than the countless things I do while riding on an ambulance which could be considered criminal, I can think of a few others.

Theft: Obtaining a street sign which was at the intersection of “Peters” and “Stroker” in my hometown. It now sits on top of my bookshelf.

Trespassing: At age of 16, I was staying at The Resort at the Bahn @ Schlitterbahn. Decided to sneak into the park with my tubes and ride over the cliff on Cliffhanger Tube Chute. Rent-a-cops didn’t like that. Took me and my cousin back to our rooms at 3am, woke up folks.

DUI: Never arrested, not convicted

MIP: Fucking asshole cops on the Guadalupe River

Calling the cops falling down drunk after I blew a tire on barton springs road and being told “Sir, we don’t change tires?”.

No?
 
The efficient 42 in a 30 from the Westlake cops with enough cronic to knock out Snoop Dogg was also a finer moment.

Freshman year I fell in with a bad crowd, from Central Catholic in San Antonio. “Bilking” was their watchword.

But the incident that gave me visions of being put away for eternity had nothing to do with them. 1968, sophomore year, BJ phones up, can you give my girlfriends a ride back to Dallas this weekend. Sure.

Well, they’re hot and cute and flirty, and by the time we get to Dallas, there’s a sleet storm. Roads r iced. You guys wanna pull into this motel? Sure.

Shower, and as I’m lighting a cigarette lying in a king size between the two of ‘em, where d’you guys go to school. White. Oh, I got a friend goes there. You probably wouldn’t know him, but you must know his brother Drew. Drew ______? No.

Sister, Jennifer? Jennifer ______? No.

Really? The twins? Ronnie and Donnie? YEAH, they’re a year ahead of us in school.

A YEAR AHEAD OF YOU? HOW OLD ARE YOU GUYS? Thirteen.

thestos, would scary pizza be Hoek’s [sic?]? God, I miss that stuff. Drunk pizza and death metal.

Got kicked out of a cab at Guadalupe and MLK. They don’t like it when you throw up in their cars, apparently. Remember trying to walk in the bike lane down the drag, but kept stumbling into the street. As I stumbled on to what I thought was 24th, I somehow ended up at Taco C. Two strangers in a pickup took pity and told me to get in the back. Somehow I gave coherent instructions and ended up at home. With all my organs and orifices intact. The next morning, I noticed that I had walked off the untied shoe laces on my vomit stained shoes. How long do you have to walk on laces, drunk in West Campus, to rub them off?

I will say, having the American consulate talk the Australian police out of deporting me for fighting was one of my finer moments.

I guess none of you had any public nudity experiences? Too many to count for me, but the most gratifying was when I dropped trou on the deck of a friend’s apartment on Wickersham during a party and did a helicopter with my junk while shouting at a security guard. Eric Metcalf was at the party earlier. He missed the cock and balls twirl. So sad.

A lot of the above sounds very familiar, most all of it fueled by all kinds of exotic and common household substances. Two that stick out:

— Decided to go for a top-down drive at 1 a.m. Drove fast as hell on FM 2222 in my convertible jeep, took a curve too hard (because to continue straight would have meant driving off a cliff) and rolling that mofo into a ditch. We landed upside-down and ‘Crawling from the Wreckage’ by the great Dave Edmunds was, no shit, playing on the tape at the time. I didn’t get checked for alcohol because the trooper who showed up figured that “you got lots of other problems right now, son, and you ain’t driving no more tonight, for sure.” My friend scratched the back of his hand, otherwise we were unscathed. It was extremely stupid. We were lucky.

— Two friends and I went into a downtown hotel (don’t remember the name) at about 3 a.m. and combed every floor, taking each piece of silverware on every spent room service tray that was out in the hallways. By the time we left, if you’d have shaken my hand I would have looked like Harpo Marx with knives, forks, spoons and creamers falling out of my sleeve and clanging on the floor. Still have some of that stuff.

Oh, I also had sex with a very nice young lady in the state Capitol.

Forgot one – rode down 6th street on a Saturday night, upper body completely out of the car, bracing myself with my thighs on the door, peeing out of the window as we drove in front of about 1000 people, because the bastard wouldn’t stop. It was that or pee in my pants. Should have whizzed in his car. Fortunately no cops saw me.

Haha, Woody, freshman year my little Tyler Rose took me out on the middle of the 50 yard line at Memorial Stadium with a blanket. Discretely as possible, to my complete astonishment, we proceeded to do it. Afterward, she said, Now you’ll never ever be able to watch a Texas home game without thinking of me.

Scary pizza is in fact Hoek’s that was the colloquial parlance that we had ascribed to the establishment

yes it did make me feel smarter to use 2-3 SAT words in that sentence

“urintating in public?”

I did get busted for pissing in the slot where Cokes come out in a vending machine freshman year. Also stole every single stop sign on Pirate’s Beach and placed them at 50 foot intervals on the beach, thinking it hilarious that the cops (who are the only ones allowed to drive on the beach) would have to keep stopping. The cops who pulled me out of bed at 3AM found it less so.

I raped a goat. Twice.

For you juvenile sign stealing UT fans, there is an Applewhite (ln, rd., way?) in Katy off of Mason. I got mine the hard way. I was yanking as hard as I could and that bitch wouldn’t budge. In an effort to get more leverage I put my feet up on the pole and started pushing outward while simultaneously pulling on the side. The results were predictable. I lost my hold and came crashing down. Every last bit of air exited my body while my boys pissed themselves with glee.

About 25% of my friends have that sign.

In this equation, side = sign.

Woody- good shit. There’s a vacant lot on the back side of Lost Creek off 2244 that has the transmission from my mom’s Ford still laying in it, from when I nailed a fence post while under the influence.

I had to pay the tow truck driver 200 to not call the cops.

I do not exaggerate when I say that in high school and college I either participated in, or was aiding and abetting, dozens of acts that violated state & federal laws, and international treaties, as well as laws of nature.

I left UT with two degrees, political science and economics. I also left enough evidence to prevent me from ever getting into politics if I so desired. I chose to manage midget wrestlers instead.

Before I became a father I might have worn these indiscretions as a badge of honor, not shame. However, I am now terrified to think what my kids are going to do. I’m thinking of converting to Amish when the oldest one turns 16.

Good stuff in this thread. Wheelhouse topic. No need to go to Mexico for mine.

My junior year at Texas, 1995, I used the old “I’m a police officer” line on a girl while at Logan’s. Helicopter pilot for a radio station had gone poorly the last outing so I went back to the fundamentals. Plus my pop was a homicide detective so I was able to pull it off quite convincingly using all of his blood and guts stories.

The ruse was working out REALLY well until my younger brother, as he’s prone to do, started/got in a bar fight. All hell breaks loose and the cops come storming in, cuffing every swinging dick in or around the fray. Of course, the girl I’ve been talking to has the light bulb go on and proceeds to tell my arresting office that he’s making a huge mistake because I’m one of Austin’s finest and surely I’ll have his badge for this.

Awesomeness ensues.

Just as I’m being thrown into the squad car for “impersonating a peace (piece) officer” the guy asks me why on earth I’d tell a girl I’m a cop. In my rambling apology including the fact that my dad was a cop, so on and so forth, I some how worked in the line that saved me. I sheepishly told him, “plus you guys get all the pussy so I figured I’d try it.”

The cop was a younger guy, and knew exactly what I was talking about. So he laughed, uncuffed me, and told me to stop telling cop stories. He let me go and I was helicopter pilot or minor league baseball player forever more after that night.

Of course the best part was that I was able to use my timely release to get back into the game with that girl.

If you’re a gambler, that’s called a good beat.

Trips wins. That’s freaking awesome.

Durnken larceny is truly one of youth’s treasures. My old roommate still has the light up Christmas decoration that looks like Chilly Willy and the Sylvester holding Tweetie Bird children’s ride from outside of HEB. Also the stupidity of driving home with the head of a parking meter sticking out your back window cannot be overstated.

I may or may not have stolen a porta-potty from a housing development off of Mopac and William Cannon for a party in west campus.

Hey, can’t have people waiting to use the bathroom. That’s just uncivilized.

All of my troube happend in high school and post college

How did you steal a porta-potty? That’s just messy, no matter which way I try and understand it.

You follow the shit sucking truck until he cleans one that is in an area that you can covertly load it into a pickup.

Allegedly.

Ahhh yes, time for some past transgressions:

Vandalism (age: 10-11ish) – after school my friend and I would sneak around my neighbors’ homes and break, pee on, or graffiti (stick figures) anything and everything that was within reach.

Breaking curfew (age 13) – snuck out of house with my older brother and his friend and wandered around at 2am. Got caught in an Appletrees (remember those?) parking lot by Travis Co deputy where he found my brother’s friend carrying a massive Bowie knife. We got a free ride home where he woke our parents and confiscated the knife.

Vandalism/possession of a firearm (age 16) – friend and I snuck onto undisclosed golf course at my parents neighborhood and hid in various sand bunkers wielding .22 bolt-action high velocity rifles late at night. Then proceeded to shoot out the windows of the model homes around the 9th and 14th holes as target practice until a cleaning person appeared inside and promptly called the police. We promptly hauled ass back to my house.

Ya know what? The more I recollect, the more I realize that most of my violations include vandalism and simple menacing of some sort. Including: throwing urine filled water balloons at high-school aged trick-or-treaters that didn’t even wear costumes, or breaking into a car and stuffing the vents with 2 month old rotting pumpkin inards(sic).

Not to mention WAY more moving violations than I can count including evasion of an officer. Surprisingly I mellowed out by the time I hit 21 and almost all of my previous infractions did not involve inebriation of any kind. I must look like a girl scout to some of y’all.

This thread is timely because my 5 year old son asked me last week if I had ever been beaten up. After informing him that, yes, in fact, the man that he views as an omnipotent power had indeed been beaten senseless. I gave him the sanitized version and as far as he knows Dad was minding his own business when some madman came out of nowhere and sucker punched him with no provocation.

He wanted to hear more stories like that so we started calling some of my friends. Now my boy knows that you can get thrown through plateglass windows if you are by yourself and talk smack to groups of guys. that is a valuable lesson for a youngster to learn.

Saturday before Mardi Gras, 1996, I’m negotiating with some girl for a little peek and grab for beads swap when my buddy spins me around, five feet away two of the biggest dudes I’ve ever see thrown down, along with a couple of their buddies. And not crappy haymakers, but an honest to god people are going to spend serious time in the hospitak fight.

Suddenly, I pitch sideways as an NO cop comes riding through on a horse whacking people with a billy club like heavy armor from the middle ages. He swings the horse around, around knocking down the brawlers and trampling at least one of them, all the while whacking everyone in sight. Behind him, cops are pepper spraying everyone in the frst three rows. I duck under a huge brother right as I hear a baton crack him in the head and flee down a side street.

Looking back, there were bodies everywhere. The cops were zip tying the injured and healthy alike. I found out later that the courthouse is closed through fat tuesday, and they don’t arraign until Wednesday, meaning you’ll spend the interim time in the NO municipal jail.

Eek.

You lift them until you find a light one. Then, oddly as long as you don’t turn it upside down its remarkably clean easy. Though they do have a tendency to fly out of your truck if you are doing over 50 on Mopac. Or so I’ve heard.

I knew a guy who allegedly ambushed our high school wearing all black gear, ski masks and carrying (fake) guns. All in good fun, everyone—including the principal —thought it was funny at the time (pre-columbine). Now that would get you expelled at minimum and probably some time in juvenile detention.

Same guy was driving in such a state as to narrowly miss an airplane. The airplane was where it was supposed to be.

Yes, finally the fights!!

About two years ago I was on 6th, minding my own business (seriously). It was just me and my girl standing next to a building waiting for a car to come pick us up. A group of four guys walks by us giving my broad a once over. I’m not the type to get mad at that at all, I check out any and all women and immediately ask myself “would I?” I just said, “what’s up fellas?” Prick #1 goes, “Yeah, WHAT’S UP?” He asked in that manner, you know, what the fuck you going to do? I said, “What, man fuck you.” His boys start chiming in about how they’re going to stomp me and shit, and I’m still running my mouth waiting for one of the four take a cut. At about this time a large group of guys is walking by and they get my back, saying how they like how I don’t back down.

Prick group walks off because now the numbers aren’t anywhere near their favor. I’m laughing at them and thanking Anti-prick group for helping me out. I took one last look at the four dickheads and just became irate. They were still running their mouths but from about 30 feet. I started walking towards them, as I get closer, I pick out the one I want. He’s standing off to the side of the other three. I walk towards the main three and at about 8 feet I just beeline for the guy off to the side. I cracked that motherfucker good and he’s out and smacks his head hard on the sidewalk. Shit just got real.

A cop must have been seeing this unfold because right after I hit that dude, the cop (Trips?) swings me around and asks me if I want to go to jail. I didn’t have time to even contemplate the lunacy of his question. The second he turned to check on Spinks, I was gone.

This is easily the single greatest thread that I have read on BC.

Trips, ftw.

Bates,

I’ve seen that same scene played out during Mardi Gras. Those cops don’t fuck around.

HenryJames is conspicuously silent. There has to be a Matamoros donkey incident we don’t know about.

Dead farm animals tell no tales.

The really scary thing is that you know that there is some serious business being held back if the above is what is considered kosher for the public and various law enforcement agencies to see.

1996.

House party in Memorial, off of Beinhorn. Thing is, party is going down at the house of a dude who desperately wanted everyone to party with him because he was lonely, not because he had an empty house. Smelling blood, me and 10 of my closest friends take some kegs boosted from the Ninfa’s behind the House of Pies on Westheimer over to the Keg Barn on Richmond. Step 3 = profit.

So we get to "Billy’s"* house with our kegs immediately after school, making ourselves comfortable with other more soothing but less discombulating flammable substances. Apparently there was nothing to do in the surrounding 15-mile radius that night. Party goes off. Big $$ profits, which means we cleared over $100. Probably 300 people in and out of dude’s house that night. Drunk high school kids. House is wrecked. Guns, gone. Silverware, gone. Beer cans stuck in water tanks behind toilets. Condoms on floors. Roaches and cigarette butts on parents’ night stand. Two windows broken. Piss in the corners of bedrooms. All potted plants destroyed. Parents’ Mercedes green-housed. Boxer shorts full of feces inexplicably in hall-way, some smeared on wall. Vomit all over bathrooms. Billy in tears. I lived in a near-crackhouse with no heat on west campus with three chain-smokers, two dogs, and a ridiculous amount of in and out traffic, I’ve helped clean up clubs after shows, and I’ve never seen any place ever look so wrecked. Ever.

*Probably not his real name

All you need to know about NO cops is they have to be hired from within the city limits. Or atleast they used to. Freaking war zone.

Unfortunately, I have a lot of stories. I would rather my children not know them, so I will share one that is somewhat amusing and doesn’t involve the law.

One Spring Break south of the border, I am drunk and taking a piss in crowded bathroom next to a big guy with an Indiana sweatshirt. I’m not sure who IU was playing in the tourney that year, but I begin to tell him that they are overrated and they will be getting their asses kicked. We finish up and as we are washing our hands the arguement is obviously not all fun and games for this guy. Apparently, he takes his Hoosier hoops seriously.

It becomes apparent to everyone in the restroom that a throw down is ensuing. Just as I square up to this guy who had me by a good 40 lbs., a fist comes flying over my shoulder and into this guys face. Down goes Frazier, out cold. I turn and a guy in an Iowa sweatshirt that I’d never seen before , who had been listening to the entire arguement, smiles and says, “I hate Bobby Knight.” Don’t know why, but that story makes me laugh everytime I think of it.

I have lots of other drunken stories that end fairly well. I definitely had a guardian angel watching over me from ages 15-23. I never will understand the fans that demonize players for a little drinking and debauchery in college. Yes, there are limits, but damn, if not for good fortune every one of us could have racked up 10+ misdemeanors in college. If not, then that’s kind of a shame. I’m glad that I got it all out of my system then.

Unreal post. I had to stop reading it in a public restroom for the sake of annoying everyone next stall over.

To st’s point, everyone breaks some type of law. All these DUIs aint cool, but players should get minor breaks except for choking women and theft and drugs. Basically normal OU team meeting type of stuff.

I was bornagain early in school, so I didn’t do much. But the night my best friend came down from Fort Hood, drank over 50 jello shots at a Texas singers party inwhich he knew 2 people, leading him to ask me to drive us home in his supped Camero — EVEN he wasn’t comfortable with me doing well over 90 down Duval.

I once was dared to follow some of Austin’s finest in their squad car for fifteen minutes. Made it about ten minutes before the officers had
enough and pulled me over. Thankfully the same friends who dared me to follow the police car were kind enough to leave a baggie full of white laundry detergent in plain sight. For future reference when asked by police to identify a bagie full of white powder do NOT answer “I don’t know. Maybe Tide or Gain?” unless you really want to spend the next several hours answering very uncomfortable questions in a tiny room.

Oltorf Whataburger story:
 
Four of us heading home from 6th. Friend begs us to pull over because he has to pummel a toilet with the contents of his intestines from the Jaimes Mexican we had earlier consumed, now loosened and sloshing in a wash of tequila and Corona. We consent.
 
As he retreats into the stall, we all order large sodas and fill to the brim with ice. We grab barricade materials: mop/rolling bucket, a metal folding chair, a wet floor sign, and a trash can as we enter the bathroom to pile before the stall door.
 
We begin pouring drinks on him as he shrieks, catching him with his pants down. Barricade holds nicely. Continue to torment him with poured drinks and wet paper towels while cackling insanely. Turn off bathroom light too, to increase his torment.
 
Floor gets slippery, causing one friend to slip and twist his ankle. He alternates between screaming and laughter and limps out of Whataburger. Friend trapped in stall is screaming bloody murder and attempting to go through our barricade. Customers are fleeing in terror.
 
My remaining friend turns on me and nails me in the cheek with a half eaten Whataburger from the trash can. While attempting to wrestle him into the garbage can head first like the kid in Bad News Bears, I manage to rip his watch off of his wrist. I run to the front with him chasing me and lob his watch into the deep fryer as he tackles me in front of the customer counter. It’s a shitty digital watch and he finds it as amusing as I do.
 
Soaked friend emerges from bathroom wielding mop handle like a bo staff. Chases the two of us 3 laps around the restaraunt parking lot, the two of us screaming like girls. Twisted ankle man gets into our car and chases us all with the hazards on. I’m wearing boots and keep trying to bargain: “Dude, stop! Dude, stop! Dude, stop! Truce! It’s over, it’s over! Cops! Cops!” as I careen around each corner in my no traction boots, at one point ripping all of the skin off of one of my hands as I bust ass.
 
We broker a peace settlement after I get a mop handle across my thigh.
 
We pile, filthy, into the car and tear out. Park in apartment complex and take off running. Huddle in woods for half an hour.
 
Good times.

Dessau Hall Thursday night was nickel pitcher night (circa 1989) I refuse to believe i was the only drunk pulling out of there at 2am.

Two words: Goodall Wooten

My brother lived in the Woo.
 
It was basically Lord of the Flies, but with more cruelty.

i did a lot of stupid shit in high school and college. shooting off a bb gun in a crowded parking lot is up there. the only one my wife thinks is funny is for 3 months my friends and i used to steal anything we could from construction sites and use all that shit to barricade peoples houses. caution tape, blinking traffic barrels, cones, etc…

As far as I can tell, asking a cop if he has a warrant to search your car is a gauranteed way to get a personal hood paint tasting session.

lots of fights, drunk driving, underage drinking, stealing of construction supplies, hazzing, some academic cheating, MIPs, PIs, gambling, running a black jack game, contributing to minor, drugs……

I too hat ethe self righteous on this subject. Orangebloods is teeming with these types. It makes you wonder who these people were in college.

Speaking of Mexico trips, I wasn’t on this one—I was a green freshman, still 17—but I did learn what if means when a Texas guy is nicknamed D. D. or Tripod. Both were nicknames for what I recall as the 3rd-string QB for the ‘67 team—may have been a safety who was emergency QB, can’t recall. He lived the next floor down in Moore-Hill when it was the jock dorm.

A trip was organized to the border, and after boozing and some speculation about the reception that would be awaiting his disrobing he picked the cutest, youngest honey in the place and with a wink told the guys to keep their eyes on the door, the bedrooms being across a large room from the bar. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes she comes flying out, panties only, running all the way through the bar jabbering in Spanish about keeping that thing away from her.

I musta seen half a dozen guys’ impression of that young lady flying out of the room. Word was he always had to then choose one of the older, more accommodating ladies working the bar.

I did some stupid shit and I’m pretty lucky I didn’t kill myself or someone else.

My senior year in high school, my friend and I took off to Beaumont to find some poor dude to buy us beer (yes, we had to drive to beaumont to find things to do). Well, we got tired of not being able to rely on some poor dude to not run off with our money. My friend gets the great idea to go check cactus canyon and the other clubs because people usually bring a cooler of drinks with them. We got lucky on the first try and drove around with our new cooler drinking the beer.

This seemed like a great plan. Might as well try again the next weekend, right? Well, we didn’t stop after our first cooler. We decided to grab another. We almost got in a fight when we got caught by someone coming out of the club. They chased around a bit but backed down. Three of us, all offensive/defensive linemen. They were your typical skinny-with beer belly cowboys.

Anyway, we kept finding more and more coolers. We filled up his truck and had to go unload some in my truck. I odn’t know how trashed we were by the time it was over. We probably should have died at some point. I don’t know how, in SE TX, we didn’t get shot robbing cowboys at the dance halls. We had so much beer we just started giving it away to friends. How ever much beer you can fit in 17-20 coolers is how much we had.

Word got out, and within the next 2 weeks people stopped leaving their coolers in the backs of their trucks. That was probably a good thing for us.

Too many arrestable offenses to count, mostly involving alcohol and other drugs. Point is well taken on how college football programs are set-ups for off the field trouble—100+ young males chosen for aggressiveness and competetiveness with many from troubled backgrounds. It is amazing Mack’s record at Texas is as good as it is.

The Woo was/is a multi decade Sociology Experiment. It’s basically 8 floors of over privilege frats boys trying to reenact Lord of the Flies, Animal House, and The Warriors all at the same time. Except our Warriors didn’t wear make-up, carry bats, and run with chicks that were packed…. We wore Polo shirts and boots, carried golf clubs, and tried to have "Sport Fuxx’s" with chicks that were stacked.

Stealing a sign off of a police station was stupid, but I don’t know how some of you guys are even alive.

Back in the 60s, Texas HiPos prided themselves on a certain cool not much in evidence these days. I had a most unexpected run-in with one.

I bought an MG Midget early in my Texas days, one that had been customized for racing. A quick tour of Westlake Hills, back before there weren’t a bazillion houses there, could tell you quite a lot about a first date. There was one spot where, if I hit it just right, I could get all four wheels in the air.

I did, and this girl was digging it. Only, just as I flew over the crest, there was a HiPo going the other direction. “What the hell is he doing here?” I dully pondered. “Never mind. I can go 80 on these roads and there’s a fork a mile and a half ahead. By the time he can get that pig turned around, he’ll never catch me.”

Get to the stop sign after barely hanging onto thecurves. Quick glance left and right. Quick glance in the rear view mirror, and thru the gnarly plastic back window, I see that he’s at a full stop behind me.

I get out of the car, knees knocking, heart pounding, license meekly in hand, and walk back to his car, the better that my promising new lady friend not hear the reaming I was about to get. “Son,” he says, “I noticed you don’t have an inspection sticker.”

WHAT?!?! We pass each other in a fifth of a second, and he catches that detail?

I give him my sob story about one of the mechanics stealing my windscreen at the repair shop and this being a temp until the replacement arrives.

He drawls, “I see… Well, son, you realize I’m going to have to issue you a warning citation.”

I’m not buying the professed lack of sex crimes amongst our readership. Or authorship.

“…a general ability to communicate wholesomeness to a police officer…”

Ain’t it so. I (ahem) know a fellow who, by the slimmest of margins, managed to avoid a morning-after DUI arrest through only a general yes sir, no sir, disposition and the presence of a friendly Golden Retriever in the back of his Jeep. Needless to say the experience caused him to make some changes.

Moving from Scholz to the Posse East when Scholz closed for the night, and deciding that the fastest way was over the curb, up the stairs, and through Belmont (which was open from end to end in those days). We hit about 50-60 mph before exiting. Celebrated after the Posse closed by going back to the UTPD guard house at San Jacinto and 26th and throwing a big rock (from the creek across from the Posse) through the glass.

Looking for an after hours party off of Spyglass just after Mopac south was opened, and ending up going the wrong way on Mopac. It really is just like Planes Trains and Automobiles – your brain doesn’t actually want to accept that you are going the wrong way down a freeway.

Much after hours beer “buying” from 24 hour grocery stores. We’d go in, put the beer at the checkout stand, start yammering away in either Spanish or Esperanto, then leave money and run. Very clever, we thought – we weren’t stealing, since we left money, and the store was the one breaking the law since they technically sold us beer at 3 AM.

During my decade in Austin, there were two theatres on the Drag. The Varsity at 24th and Guadalupe has been a record store, I believe, for most of the years since. And the Texas was a few doors south of the Co-Op. It’s been a drug store.

Sophomore year, I managed the Texas. I thought it the height of marketing effectiveness to refer to every movie on our marquee as a flick, as in

CLOSELY WATCHED
          TRAINS

          “GREAT
            FLICK”

telling the usher to be sure to jam the L and the I together in FLICK.

One afternoon, I heard the tell-tale sound of a fender-bender out front. A coupla minutes later, I heard the brief blip of a cop siren. I looked out and, sure enough, a coupla motorists and a coupla cops were standing by the wounded cars in the near center lane working things out.

Several minutes later, I was summoned to the lobby, and to my surprise there were the two cops. They asked me very nicely but firmly not to put FLICK on the marquee again as that had been the sixth rear-ender reported on that block in the past few months.

Stealing beer coolers from the back of trucks? I’m impressed by the simple genius and appalled by abject stupidity in the danger inherit to the scheme.

Swindle’s rap sheet.

PETTY THEFT: Stolen signage belonging to the state of Tennessee. You wonder where the big “V-O-L-S” went from the top rim of Neyland Stadium? Currently in my crawlspace sitting atop the corpses um bags of mulch.

FORGERY: Unless applying under false pretenses for media credentials to sports events applies, then no. If it does, we’re going to hell.

Why haven’t we tried this?

Why am I not surprised at the proliferation of no-goodniks, hoodlums and vagabonds who contribute to this site?

As for me, I’ve never wrongfully acquired a Christmas tree from the front of an HEB and set it up – lights, tinsel, beer bottle ornaments and all – in a cramped Jester East bathroom as decoration for a large booze-fueled holiday party. And I certainly didn’t pull that hypothetical stunt two years in a row. Theft, underage drinking and fire hazards are contrary to the Holiday Spirit, and I will have none of that.

That’s all I care to deny on a public forum.

Why am I not surprised at the proliferation

Meant to say “Why am I not surprised at the proportion…” I have no reason to believe that the number of worthless rogues on BC has recently increased. Fucking hangover brain today.

Yeah, my roommate and I didn’t phone that bomb threat in to Kinsolving so that we could get our dates back out after curfew either.

And the bulldozer left perched next to Gregory Gym with its treads off the ground, not me either.

And midnight psilocybin bicycle Frisbee on the Main Mall, uh uhh.

And the ship’s safety flare, visible for 20 miles at sea, fired over Memorial Stadium one night, know nothing.

And the professional fussball table that went missing over the 8-foot fence at whatever bar incarnation that was on 24th between Nueces & San Antonio, pretty sure that was someone else too.

it was indeed the Scipio Whataburger.

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