Rocky Horror… Michigan
There we were at a party in a house somewhere near Holland Michigan in the early 80’s on a cold, winter Saturday night. Off in one corner was our little group… my co-workers Mark and Kevin, a woman I cannot remember, my wife and I… and a woman named Squeaky. We called her Squeaky (not to her face) because, “whenever she opens her mouth it sounds like she had swallowed a whistle”. Mean, but accurate.
A bit bored, more than a bit drunk for how early it was, conversation in our little group turned to Rocky Horror as “The Time Warp” began to play. I mentioned that a couple of years earlier while in college, my wife and I had traveled to Chicago to see the actual musical, put on by the London Touring Company. We were discussing the differences between the play and the movie, when Squeaky announced that she had never heard of Rocky Horror. A quick road trip was born! We had just enough time to jump in the car and make it to Grand Rapids for the midnight showing. Mark was the designated driver as he was recovering from something and had not been drinking.
Six of us crammed into his small car, two partial 12 packs of beer were added at the last moment. And we were off. “Mr Toad’s Wild Ride” entered my mind as I was crammed into the backseat. Three minutes to midnight our car cruised into a parking spot in front of the mall theater, just as a cop car’s flashing lights went off behind us.
Uh oh. As we piled out of the car, the lone officer was upon us… young, looking about our age and carrying a huge flashlight, not needed in the still partially lit mall lot. License and registration, and he had us line up as he searched the car. Watching as he pulled out empty and partially empty beer cans and bottles, setting them on the hood of the cruiser, then came the almost empty 12 pack containers. Surreal as beer leaked from one of the 12 packs, flowing down the fender of the cop car, puddling on the ground below. An almost full bottle fell from the cruiser, a victim of vibration from the running engine, more beer on the ground.
Twenty minutes later, knowing Mark was sober, the officer said he would cut us a break, writing Mark a citation for reckless driving, and he was gone. We missed Rocky Horror that night, and quietly drove home.
Fast forward two-weeks later, Mark and Kevin, suited up, in the courthouse disputing the reckless driving citation. The young officer, “But your honor, it was a party on wheels!”.
The judge, “Next time charge them with what they did, not with what they didn’t do”.
A rookie officer leaves court furious, vowing never to take it easy again.
I have always lived by: 1) Never drink and drive, 2) Never ride with someone who has. The open container rule had eluded me until the Rocky Horror Michigan mis-adventure.