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The closest I have ever come to being arrested was one sunny summer day  on Lake E-something in Maine, or–as they say {in Maine}–Vacationland. To be truthful, “I” wasn’t almost arrested at all.  But I’ll get to that in a second.

I did happen to be on vacation that sunny summer day, it being vacationland and all, with my then-boyfriend.  Personally, I’m uncomfortable around water of any sort, particularly lakes, rivers & oceans, but he seemed to be turned on by the sitatuion.  He was that kind of guy–the type with a “whatever makes you uncomfortable” fetish–but I hadn’t really figured that out (read: told myself to wake the fuck up) yet.  That came much later, when he made me sleep in the car after a 16-hour drive to Prince Edward Island.  I was 6 months pregnant at the time.  But that’s a different crime!

Portland, Maine is the typical quaint New England town where the square is surrounded by cutsie restaurants and local hardware stores.  The one coffee shop is probably still on a dial-up connection.  And the old movie theater has been “renovated” into a pizza parlor/history museum.   Having realized this very soon upon entering Portland, we decided to get out of the city–to the aforementioned lake.

Apparently, the state forest is some sort of preservation property where it’s illegal to do the funk-de-funk in the changing rooms, even when the changing rooms are completely vacant.  The entire lake, in fact, was deserted.  Well, except for that one state trooper, who we didn’t see beforehand.

Two things I still struggle to understand about this situation:

1.  The state trooper didn’t stop us until I was told to “turn around.”  (it’s only okay to have sex if you’re facing each other?)

2. When the state trooper asked for my license, I handed him… my best friend’s license.   I happened to be carrying her licence because the MASSACHUSETTS DMV SUCKS MY ASS AND THEY ALSO HATE ME.  (Do not get me started on that story.  Talk about Motherf@*!ing Criminals.)

My options were two-fold: either tell him I don’t have an ID, which he probably wouldn’t believe, or give him the ID I did have, which happened to not be mine.  I went with the latter, a sort of “act first, think later” moment.  At that point, I still didn’t really think that he was going to do anything with our ID’s; I figured he just wanted to make sure we were of age or something.  I was more worried about whats-his-name, knowing he’d never matured past the point of early puberty, but whatever ID he pulled out must have said he was over 18 because I didn’t get arrested.

The fact that the trooper didn’t realize I wasn’t Ms. Faith Crazy* says a lot about his judgement.  The similarities weren’t endless.  I had blonde hair; the girl in the picture had blonde hair.  That’s about it.  I can see some half-drunk bartender accepting me to be her; he’s getting a direct comission off of the allowance.  But a trooper?  Who’s sober??

“You still live at #Blah-Blah-Blah on Blah-Blah Road in Blah-Blah, Massachusetts, Ms. Crazy?” he asked.

“Um, no.  My address has changed,” I mumbled.

“That address is?” he asked.

Only at this point did I begin to question my judgement in giving him a “fake” ID.  It seemed he might actually be writing down my information, “my” meaning her information, of course.  Should I have stopped him?  Yes.  Did I? No.  I could say that I was scared shitless, but the peon of a law enforcer was more of an annoying mosquito than a bear you might run from.  While he and horny toad made small talk about the make and model of our car, I could only stare in disbelief.  Was he really going to arrest us??

It turns out we got a slap on the wrist–a ticket for public obscenity–and an admonition to “Keep it in the Hotel Room, Kids.”  The entire situation was humiliating in a hilarious kind of way, and I confess to laughing about it for–oh, the next 2 years or so.  The only time I didn’t laugh was when paying the $250 fine.  I couldn’t even think about contesting the ticket, considering I wasn’t really the person whose name was listed.

More importantly, I couldn’t laugh about it or even mention it to my best friend.  She, I felt certain, would not see the humor.  There was this little matter of her not really being the best of friends with my co-conspirator.  And then there was the whole “I used your name to get thrown out of a State Park” thing.  I didn’t know whether she’d forgive me, and, because one do-something-stupid-without-caring-about-the-consequences act just wasn’t enough for that weekend, I didn’t care to find out.  I’d like to blame it on peer pressure or that ‘bad influence” of a boyfriend, but, truthfully, I’ve never been good at non-passive/aggressive communication.

It turns out I was right about one thing; she didn’t really see the humor, when I told her, almost three years later, in the middle of a 3-hour car drive to a 3-day weekend in Vermont, neither of which she could get out of.  It was a truly cathartic moment for me, as there were many times I wanted to refer to it (read: make an offensive joke) in her presence and couldn’t because she didn’t even know about it.  She was pissed, both at my timing in telling the story and at what I’d done–for good reason…something about a career in which she couldn’t be a felon.  (Minor Details.)  Old enough to realize how stupid the entire thing was, I apologized, sincerely.  Stuck with me for the next 72 hours, she forgave me, hesitantly.

Since my confession, the “WTF did you do to my good name-ed-ness” has lessened to the point that I can make a joke and get just a dirty look instead of a slap on the face or something.  If anything, I’m lucky that my best friend agrees with me that the “crime” in this case had nothing to do with public obscenities; at least, we can laugh about that.

If that weren’t lucky enough, just knowing I have a best friend who let me use her license in the first place means almost as much to me as the fact that she forgave me for {almost} getting arrested with said license.  Need I point out that I’m terribly lucky to have not gotten arrested?  Surely, at that point, I would have had to confess to not having a license.

Crimes, whether punished or not, usually result in some sort of lesson.  And I’ve learned {all of} mine.  Honesty is the best policy, whether state trooper or best friend.  If you’re having sex in public, make sure it’s the conservative kind. And don’t visit Maine, at least if you want to have fun.  Fucking vacationland, my ass.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, which is basically everyone except me.

21 responses to “Vacationland”

  1. Avatar emmy em says:

    Oh man. The "whatever makes you uncomfortable" fetish. It's not teasing. It's being a dick. Too bad it takes too long to figure that one out for some of us.

  2. papi papi says:

    Best end to this story for me would have been,the id saying you were underage and the ass smack you were with got put in jail.I am sure he would still be there.

  3. Avatar KFrayz says:

    wow. it's nice to know you have a best friend who is so forgiving…but then again revenge IS a dish best served cold…{insert maniacal laughing here}

    • Avatar llxt says:

      hey, i'll be the first to admit you "owe me one."

      • Avatar KFrayz says:

        excellent. you can ignore all those pesky phone calls and billing statements from credit cards you have no recollection of opening… also, there may or may not be a new mortgage being opened in your name…

  4. Kail Kail says:

    That sounded like a Stephen King story, almost…except in King's version the trooper definitely would have been a ghost, alien, or otherworldly demon, and the jail you would've gone to would have been haunted and empty. The first to die in the story, though, thankfully, would be the schmuck with the annoy-you fetish.

  5. Kail Kail says:

    That sounded like a Stephen King story, almost…except in King's version the trooper definitely would have been a ghost, alien, or otherworldly demon, and the jail you would've gone to would have been haunted and empty. The first to die in the story, though, thankfully, would be the schmuck with the annoy-you fetish.

  6. Jason Jason says:

    I remember this story when it happened. It gets better with age. Everything is right with this recapturing.

  7. Avatar The Tailor says:

    That's a great story.

  8. Avatar e.c. russell says:

    I shudder to think about what crimes have been committed in my name. Then again, the only people who have my ID are those who found… and did not return… my numerous missing wallets over the years.

    • Avatar llxt says:

      lol. of course…nowadays, no ID is needed to commit crimes in other people's names. er, um, i mean… i definitely don't know anything about commiting crimes in other people's names…

  9. llxt llxt says:

    ah, thanks for the correction. though, to be honest, this is completely fictional. 🙂

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llxtm About llxtm

LLXTM is the Head Dreamer of this publication and various other projects, including Needle-Movers.com, The Perpetual You, and Ladymade. She has no spare time and yet eeks out moments to spend with her two {human} boys and two {puppy} boys. She can’t wait for spring, aka Covid Gardening, Part II. Follow her @wordsbyleelee on Instagram, or find her on her front porch in Hamden, CT.

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December 2010
November 2010
On My Honor
October 2010
Witch Hunt
September 2010
If, Then.
May 2010
Small Crimes
April 2010
February 2010
"It's Complicated"
January 2010