Thursday, November 8, 2012

Mall Jail, Part 2

For Part 1, click here

So there we are, thumbing through this giant book, trying to figure out what in God's name the Mall Security area would be listed under. We finally figure it out, and this is what they say:

Mall Cops: Yes, they are here.  They are in custody and TPD* is on the way.  You might wanna hurry.

*TPD= Tulsa Police Department.  Not good.

We jump in S's new car, and haul ass over to the Mall.

Now, this is Tulsa's biggest Mall.  It's huge-there's like, 5 anchor stores.  When we zoomed off, we had no idea where in the hell we were headed. We entered the vast parking lot, not sure where to begin. Fortunately, the Mall Cops had their lights in full Panic Mode.

We zeroed in on the quite large congregation of people.  Before S could fully stop, I jump out of the car, swinging my 25 pound purse like a medieval flail. (I'll wait while you look that one up.)

As I walk up, I see that there are roughly 10 Mall Cops, surrounding one loud guy (P) and one pathetic guy, standing in a puddle of his own vomit.  All I hear is P spouting off:
"Here come our wives, and they're gonna kick ALL your asses".

I walk up, apparently exuding enough heat that I get everyone's attention really quickly.  All heads turn toward me.  I say:
You, (to P), you need to shut the fuck up.  You all (to the Mall Cops, and now a few members of TPD) need to be patient while I work this shit out.  You (SK), I can't even fucking look at you.  You are a mess.

At this point, they seem to assign a 500 pound Tulsa's Finest to corral the crazy.  

By this time, S has joined up with us, and the Mall Cops are arguing what to do with SK. Standing has not been kind to him, and the Boys in Blue were getting sick of being his legs.  There was some talk of EMSA (the guys that give very generous $400 trips to the ER).  I spoke up pretty damn quick: "Umm, no, he's fine.  SK, get your shit together, you have no insurance. You are poor.  You need to stand."  This seems to help matters.  The convo turns to how to get SK into their designated Mall Jail.  No one really wants to take responsibility for the drunk puker, for obvious reasons.
"Well, he can't walk through the mall, he can't hardly walk.  And, I don't want him puking inside the mall".
"I'm not putting him in my car, I just washed it".
"He can't go in mine, either."
"I guess we could put him in the back of the Bronco".

So there is Sky King, loaded, handcuffed, into the back of a Bronco, being driven around to the Mall Jail access.

That's right.  They have a Mall Jail.  Apparently, this type of stuff happens enough that they have a place for it.  Color me relieved, that we are dealing with Mall Felon Professionals.

We follow them around the mall, and the boys are ushered in.  We are left outside with a few of the TPD guys, who chat us up.

I'm waxing poetic on the merits of being with a juvenile delinquent that finds getting shitty at the Mall socially acceptable behavior.  I must have really been gaining some serious steam.  At one point, a very large, very tall cop says to me, "it's not that big a deal, you should calm down." Umm, regardless of the amount of ammo on your hip?  Don't tell me to calm down.  I counter with, "Calm down?  Are you fucking kidding me?  He's 23, in flight school, living in Tulsa ONLY to go to school to become a pilot, and he gets so shitfaced he offends an entire goddamn mall, and ANY alcohol violation ends the career he's spending $50,000 trying to obtain? And you want me to calm down?  You're high."  Then, I went back to swearing and pacing, pacing and swearing.  Also, trying to figure out what to do about the job SK won't be showing up at.

He saw WAY more humor in this whole situation than I did.

And it was touch and go, given the amount of trouble they caused.  Turns out, they were charged with trespassing, and the Mall Cops wanted even more charges brought up.

Tip of the Day:  When people have detained you and handcuffed you, do not be rude.  Do not tell them your girlfriend/wife could kick your ass, and don't sign your violations with a flourish-y "fuck you".  Turns out, they get a bit sensitive.  And, they piss and moan to the Real Cops, to press charges.

Meanwhile, I had to call his work.  Not because I'm thoughtful.  Fuck that---rent was due.  I didn't need Sky King blowing his job over this.  So, being awesome, I called them, and said, "SK is at the Mall, and got sick.  He threw up all over, and is now in Mall Security.  He won't be making his shift tonight".  This was met with, "He will need to call in, himself".  I responded with, "Listen, I'm trying to be awesome, telling you he won't be in.  He won't be calling you, until he has left security.  I will give him your message."

See?  I wasn't going to lie.  BUT, I wasn't going to throw his golden-egg laying ass under the bus, either.  (Golden egg? Who am I kidding? We were scraping by, already with huge student loan payments, and he was a part-time server.  More like, Golden Nit).

Want the boys' perspective?

Stay tuned.

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