I woke up to Peter frantically walking around his apartment gathering ingredients for a smoothie. It was 1pm. He told me he had thrown away the crack pipe in a fit of nervous despair immediately after waking up. Throwing away the crack pipe always seemed like a good idea in the morning, but at night we would realize that we could walk half a block to the nearest bodega and buy the exact same crack pipe again. While pouring the contents of the blender into 2 glasses, Peter expressed feeling worse than he had ever felt from a crack hangover and I expressed similar things.
At around 3pm we decided that we should get out of his apartment before dark. We went to a restaurant in Williamsburg that serves you various types of barbecued meats on big metal trays and beer in jars. We drank 2 beers while waiting in line then got a pitcher of beer with our food. After eating what I would estimate to be a pound of meat each, we went to a bar where they serve giant margaritas in styrofoam cups. We sat on a curb and drank our margaritas in silence.
That night at a roof party in Greenpoint, I broke a pill of xanax in half, then put half in Peter's mouth and half in my own. After stealing illegal fireworks, 4 beers and a massive American flag, we left the party and walked to the nearest Manhattan bound train.
In the subway station we drank America-themed cans of Budweiser. I had just gotten my second public drinking ticket a few weeks prior to this but I was too drunk and high to care if I got another one, or even remember that drinking beers in public was illegal.
A cop came up to us before we swiped our metro cards and pointed at our beers. I quietly put my beer down on the ground. This is a maneuver that only seems sneaky to an extremely intoxicated person. The cop said 'Are you gonna throw that away?' We walked to the nearest trash cans and threw away our beers. The cop walked in the opposite direction.
Peter and I sat on a bench in the middle of one of the less crowded blocks in midtown Manhattan and I called a phone number, which I had saved in my phone as 'Drug Dealer'. A man answered the phone whose voice I recognized to be Alex's. He is the boss of ~4 other drug dealers who normally answer. I told him my order and he said he would be there in 5 minutes, which I knew meant he would be there in 15.
He called and told me that he was in the middle of the block and he could see me. I left Peter alone and met Alex across the street. The other drug dealers didn't mind when Peter came with me, but Alex always requested that I leave him behind.
Alex held both of my hands, covertly slipping an envelope full of cocaine and xanax into my right hand as I put a wad of money in his left hand. He kissed my cheek and gave me a hug that was a few seconds too long for our level of familiarity. 'How have you been sweetheart? How's your boyfriend?' I responded 'He's not my boyfriend' because I thought Alex would enjoy hearing that and be more likely to give me free drugs in the future. 'What is he then? A friend with benefits?' I responded 'Yeah, something like that.'
He asked me if I saw the fireworks over the Hudson River and I said I hadn't. He told me that he kayaks on the Hudson sometimes and would like to take me. He took a sharpie out of his pocket and wrote 'kayaking' on a piece of paper with a phone number. He explained that the number I normally call is the 'business number', but if I want to go kayaking with him, I should call the number he just wrote down. I thanked him and said I would definitely be calling soon.
Peter and I got in a cab headed back to Peter's apartment.
Across the street from Peter's apartment there was a high school under construction.
We noticed that the front gate, which had previously been blocking us from entering the construction area of the high school, was open. We walked up 3 stories of scaffolding.
On the roof we saw fireworks going off in the distance. We had sex with me leaning over the cement wall surrounding the edge of the roof and Peter behind me. I could see Peter's apartment from this position. We finished having sex with me face first on the ground, and Peter on top.
It was 95 degrees and I could feel pieces of dirt and gravel sticking to my body underneath my clothes as we walked down the scaffolding. Peter walked ahead of me.
When Peter reached the bottom, I heard a male voice say 'Put your hands where I can see them.' Peter put his hands up and a cop pulled him out of my view. I instinctively put my hands above my head. One cop put his hand on the narrow part of my waist and another cop put his hand on my lower back, as they lead me off the scaffolding to the ground, where I saw Peter standing with the third cop, who was holding him by the arm.
The cop said 'I am going to put you in handcuffs now, okay?' in a tone that sounded almost sympathetic or comforting. I said 'okay' and he put Peter and I in handcuffs. The cop took Peter out of my view, while another cop grabbed my purse.
I said 'Are you going to search my bag?' and the cop said 'Are you fucking kidding? You're trespassing on a construction site doing god knows what. Of course I'm going to search your fucking bag. You could have weapons.'
At that point I remembered I had $80 worth of cocaine and ~10-15 illegal fireworks in my purse (Peter had the xanax in his pocket). I remembered my stepdad telling me when I was younger that if I was ever in possession of illegal drugs and a cop was going to search me, I should say 'I do not consent to this search' because there is a law where cops sometimes can't search you if you say that.
I said 'I do not consent to this search' and the cop paused for a second. He responded 'Look you're obviously doing something illegal, I could take you to jail right now, so don't pull this 'I don't consent' shit with me. Lets not get off on the wrong foot. Now do you wanna start over again?'
'Yes sir. I'm sorry.'
'What the fuck were you doing up there? Is there anything damaged? Any broken windows?'
'So what were you doing up there?'
'Honestly we were just exploring, we didn't mean any harm.'
'What the fuck do you mean exploring? What the fuck...are you a prostitute?'
'No, god no. I work full time in the publicity department of a publishing company. We were honestly just looking around.'
The other cop began removing things from my purse. He pulled out a roman candle and a handful of firecrackers. 'What the hell is this, where did you get these?'
'I found them.'
The cop pulled my ID out of my purse and shined his flashlight on it. He said my full name but with the wrong pronunciation. 'My-Ra Gonzalez'.
I stared at him and felt my emotional state change from 'horrified' to 'annoyed' then back to 'horrified'.
The other cop walked Peter toward us, still holding him by the arm. He said 'So, do you guys really want this?' The other two cops looked confused. 'I mean, do you wanna bother with these guys?'
'Oh,' said the cop who was searching my purse. 'Yeah, they aren't worth it. We have better things to do.'