There seems to be a correlation between high intelligence and depression, among other mental woe. Mine is profound, deep horrible depression. Meds do me fine. No one who knows me casually even knows.
There has been a lot of stress in my household. My daughter is working a (sort of) decent job, and in a year or so will be making good money. The son-in-law is a stay at home dad. He's the best kind of father to my granddaughters for which I could ever hope. But it ends up, I'm the one, at age 60+ to get up at 6:30 every morning and go to a soul-killing job (18 years) which is also VERY physically demanding.
I had a bad two weeks, starting around the first week of the month. By bad, I mean, things weren't going our way, debts piled up, the kids were sick, and the house was dirty enough to be condemned. Also, an incident at work triggered a response I cannot help. I won't go into details, but I never did ANYTHING wrong, but was accused anyway. THAT didn't help...
So in a mood of the worst depression I can ever remember having. (Meds don't work on "breakthrough depression") You get the gist here. I was in a bad place mentally, but not suicidal or wanting to hurt ANYBODY. So then I went to the bar to celebrate my 30 years of Sobriety...... (I can hear you, "..wait... whaaat??)
On occasion of my sobriety birthday, and usually if I'm feeling bad, I'll go to some bar, order a Jack Daniels neat, pay for it and leave a two-dollar tip. Then I stare at the drink. This is to remind me that there is no problem that alcohol can't make worse. I have not taken a drink in 30 years. I do smoke OPP (Other Peoples Pot) occasionally, but not cigarettes since '84. That will be 30 years in February, but I digress...
I hate alcohol. If you wish to commit that type of suicide, I'm not one to judge. Please do it in your home and not on the streets. Cigarettes, the same. Keep the smoke to yourself as I do for mine own peccadillo.
So here I was, staring down this stupid drink, never even thinking about drinking it, because for some reason, when I see alcohol, I see an instant asshole. That would be me.
Whilst a willing prisoner of this unhappy state, one of the bartenders (there was NO ONE else in the entire place, except a couple of diners) walked over and asked if I was alright. "Do I look alright?" I responded. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked. I said, "Yeah... If you see me drink this, please shoot me in the back of the head." (My lawyer thought it was funny....... so there!) It's kind of a running joke with my friends that if they see me deliberately drinking alcohol, they have permission to shoot me in the back of the head. I just don't want to see it coming. Like I said. Instant asshole!.
Well, after about another half hour of just thinking about my putrid excuse for a life and how to get out of this stupid debt, ANOTHER bartender, a older motherly-type woman again asked me "Are you alright?" "I've been better," my reply. She came around the bar to put her arms around me. I'm not the touchy-feely type and I don't like hugs.(Grand babies exempted!) She put her hands on me and I asked her to please not touch me. She asked, "Well if there's anything I can do for you..." I said, kind of irritated, because I thought having already payed 6 bucks for one shot of whiskey and a two-dollar tip usually means, 'Leave me alone unless I ask for something.' Anyway, I said, irritated, "You could shoot me in the back of the head and be doing me a favor."
ha. ha.
She mumbled something about "I can't do that." and I said something like "well, obviously" and let it go. I sat there for a while longer until some wine snob came in and started talking like he knew what he was saying ( I despise phonies) I'd had enough not drinking, so I left and went straight home.
Here's where the fun begins.
About a half-hour after getting home, my daughter knocks on the door to tell me the police were outside the door. Good girl she was, she did as she was trained, closed and locked the door and came and got me. So I went to the door. "What do YOU want?" One of them asked me if I owned "that" (my) motorcycle. Yes indeedee. "Well, we got a call that someone was wanting other people to shoot him" (FACEPALM) I said nothing, but my daughter behind me said "that everything was fine and you are scaring my children."
"Sir, have you been drinking?"
It was right then, being in a very tired state of mind, that I made my mistake.
I took one-half step outside my doorway. A perfectly normal act. No fast motion.
Man! I've never been handcuffed that quickly! (Maybe in my youth, but not for 35 years or so....) "You charged my partner." If I could have facepalmed, I would have. "Really? You two steroid-monsters with Tac-vests and handguns, and heavy flashlights, batons and tasers were scared of a barefoot 60 year old man with two bad knees, a really bad back, a chronic dislocation of my left radial head, and a torn-up shoulder? You're afraid of ME!? What kind of pussies ARE you?? What kind of pussies are the Anchorage Police Department hiring??" After that it was non-stop denigration of everything about them, cops in general, foul, non-repeatable, statements of fact as to how in their ancestry, females of the porcine species predominate. These guys were dumber than dirt. I know Spanish well and raised by my Russian mother, learned ALL the choice Russian curses. Yes, I know they record it, but there is nothing I said that could be construed as threatening. Fuck 'em.
Meanwhile, they made sure ALL the neighbors were awakened and knew what was happening. Not that I really care, they all pretty well knew I wasn't the most tightly wrapped guy, BUT EVERYONE LIKES ME HERE! Still, very embarrassing and hurtful to my granddaughters. After they "checked to see if the cuffs were locked" (made them a LOT tighter. I don't blame them, really. What I was calling them would have made me want a little revenge. They put me in in the most uncomfortable car, the ones with all hard plastic in the back with no room to sit up, so I had to lay on top of the cuffs the whole time.
Now, they knew I hadn't been drinking, they had already acknowledged I wasn't under arrest, but they were going to take me in for a "psych evaluation" to see if I was a danger to myself or others. The irony was killing me. Seriously, my back and those fucking handcuffs HURT!!
Long story short... ah... too late now. Onward.
I'd told "Officer B@rber" (didn't want to use his real name) that I had been a nurse at Providence hospital. That I knew most of the people there. That even if I was as crazy as a shit-house rat and dangerous as they said, I could talk my way past them before his pen hit his paperwork over the incident.
I told the first gal, that I had no problem with them and would certainly cooperate with them. THEY weren't the assholes who kidnapped me! So they took the cuffs off, and the nurse shot a dirty look to the pigs after seeing my wrists. As I was led to a room, I said goodbye to "Officer" B@rber and told him to go back to eating his mothers putrid.....
It was in Russian. It's the worst thing you can say in Russian.
The second lady asked why I was so hostile to the police and I straight-up told her I hated every one of them, everywhere. She smiled and didn't write anything down. She asked me questions about my health which she DID write down and left. Another woman (insurance lady, but I'm not paying the ransom) The doctor was an ER doc I've known for years. I met him the first time over a dog bite and we became friendly. Cool guy.
And I was in and out of there in less than an hour (they had a kid come in almost beaten to death, something like that, so I had to wait). They gave a cab voucher and I went home.
Of course at 1:30 am, nobody saw THAT!
After talking to my lawyer, I'm unlikely to get any justice from this. Hell, they may send me a summons for "attacking" a steroid-filled, bullet-proof monster with weapons. I had a t-shirt on. Anyway. The people at the restaurant will be hearing from me, but I need to think about exactly what to say and do. Like giving some lessons in reading customers and understanding arch-humor! And that when a guy pays for a drink, leaves a 33% tip, doesn't do anything but stare at it, it generally means 'leave me the fuck alone.' As a side-bar, it might be a good lesson to remember the EXACT words spoken by someone you are "concerned about." It might be important later as CONTEXT!!!!
Lesson here? If the pigs come to your door in Alaska on a "Title 47" (welfare check) and you step outside your door, they have every right to kidnap you and humiliate and torture you until you get to the hospital. Never resist. But you can call them anything you want. Never EVER say ANYTHING that could be construed as a threat. You'll go straight to jail. Resist and go straight to jail. Learn a second language instead. It's more fun, trust me.
When they come to the door, unless they can HEAR the sounds of an obvious altercation, they may NOT enter your house. Tell them to either get lost or a warrant of some sort. Like I said. Fuck'em. They work for US! Will I be harassed even more than I am now? Oh you betchya! I think they knew I was with Cop Block and they aren't smart enough to fuck with me in any meaningful way. But they keep trying. Oh, as a P.S. I'm NOT currently on any "no-fly list". I have been flying freely, no problem to Central and South America for many years. I will report if it happens I can't all of a sudden in the future. You heard it here first. Also any cop apologists, please exit right... I really don't give a fuck what you think.
That's it....I'm over it now.... Pretty much.... Thanx for listening.
2:20 PM PT: Quick update... I wrote this as a catharsis. I wasn't looking for sympathy or an argument. I may be little crazy but not by any stretch -stupid. I know what I can and can't get away with with cops.
The people at the restaurant did nothing wrong, but I will ask the manager to call in a little training for not making assumptions.
What I'm surprised at is that nobody got it. Nobody recognized it for what it is: a rant which should quickly drop off the bottom of the list as soon as possible because I write for me.