When I was a boy in the late 70s and early 80s I partied, and drove drunk on a regular basis. I'm moderately ashamed, and extremely amazed that I never got into trouble, and never hurt myself or anyone else. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is.
As I got older, the episodes of drinking and driving got fewer and farther between, and almost never to the extreme. But once, in the early nineties, after a bad breakup, I was at a local bar feeling lonely, killing time, drinking and shooting pool, and I got drunk. I was dominating the pool table and women were flirting with me and guys were buying me shots, and I lost track of ... well, everything. I suddenly realized it was time to go (when the bartender wouldn't give me any more alcohol). I left with the (very well known) b-girl who had been hanging on me for the past hour; I knew she was more interested in the wad of cash in my pocket than in me, but it didn't seem to matter at the moment.
It was a five mile drive home, and halfway there I saw the flashing blue lights, and I knew I was finished. I had been driving pretty carefully, but I was at that borderline point where you are still sort-of in control, but realize you are bombed. I pulled over, dug out my license and registration, and kissed them goodbye.
I sat there for what seemed like an eternity; the cop car just sat there - I started to actually wonder if I was hallucinating! Then, all of a sudden the cop car pulled out and rolled up beside me, and the guy riding shotgun motioned for me to roll down my window. He pointed the screen of his radar gun at me so I could read the "47" in LED - he said,
"the speed limit on this road is 35 miles per hour, sir".
I said, "I'm sorry officer, I didn't realize..."
he looked over at my passenger, and said "hello, lucy, what are you up to tonight?"
Before she could answer, he said to me "this is your lucky day. we have another call that we have to answer, so I suggest you slow it down and drive home carefully."
my lucky day? you have no idea.
What was [if any] your closest brush with LE?
Did this have any effect on your behavior [either as a hobbyist or a provider] other than [presumably] making you more careful?
Did anyone temporarily suspend his/her activities until the fear had passed, etc..?
But I still keep a look out.
Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.
I am very leary of men who are new to the game and have no references at all and have decided not to see them. A provider friend was detained at a recent bust because she noticed the activity.
Never had a problem with LE re: hobbying per se, but have been delayed several times on the way home by DUI check-points when leaving the city. Which is why I never bring beverages to sessions, and will turn down any offers she may make to do so during them...
-- Modified on 1/21/2008 9:09:12 AM
Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to cum inside this little cup here and if you don't, we have the right to rescind your TER VIP membership right on the spot.
people who can EVER get it up anymore. Forget cumming in a cup.
I went to what I thought was a MP and found out it was FS. Pleasant surprise until the LE showed up. They did not charge me but I'm certain I'm on a list somewhere. I wasn't hobbying then but startup my VIP membership to TER. I've been hobbying ever since. I stick with the standard ladies with high reviews, from multiple reviewers, who in turn have given multiple reviews.
vote Ron Paul and he'll try to eliminate that worry.
When I was a boy in the late 70s and early 80s I partied, and drove drunk on a regular basis. I'm moderately ashamed, and extremely amazed that I never got into trouble, and never hurt myself or anyone else. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is.
As I got older, the episodes of drinking and driving got fewer and farther between, and almost never to the extreme. But once, in the early nineties, after a bad breakup, I was at a local bar feeling lonely, killing time, drinking and shooting pool, and I got drunk. I was dominating the pool table and women were flirting with me and guys were buying me shots, and I lost track of ... well, everything. I suddenly realized it was time to go (when the bartender wouldn't give me any more alcohol). I left with the (very well known) b-girl who had been hanging on me for the past hour; I knew she was more interested in the wad of cash in my pocket than in me, but it didn't seem to matter at the moment.
It was a five mile drive home, and halfway there I saw the flashing blue lights, and I knew I was finished. I had been driving pretty carefully, but I was at that borderline point where you are still sort-of in control, but realize you are bombed. I pulled over, dug out my license and registration, and kissed them goodbye.
I sat there for what seemed like an eternity; the cop car just sat there - I started to actually wonder if I was hallucinating! Then, all of a sudden the cop car pulled out and rolled up beside me, and the guy riding shotgun motioned for me to roll down my window. He pointed the screen of his radar gun at me so I could read the "47" in LED - he said,
"the speed limit on this road is 35 miles per hour, sir".
I said, "I'm sorry officer, I didn't realize..."
he looked over at my passenger, and said "hello, lucy, what are you up to tonight?"
Before she could answer, he said to me "this is your lucky day. we have another call that we have to answer, so I suggest you slow it down and drive home carefully."
my lucky day? you have no idea.
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