I turned sixteen recently and for my birthday I wanted to take two of my best friends down to beautiful Laguna Beach for the weekend. So we mobbed on down there one Thursday afternoon, with my dad driving most of the way. Little did we know the shit-storm that was about to come down on us.
Coming over the Grapevine, our trusty Subbie blew a spark plug so we were stuck in Santa Clarita for the night. We checked into a hotel, ran across the street to get dinner, then as we running back across the street, we got stopped my some asshole CHP officer who lectured us for an hour about jay-walking. When we got back to the room after narrowly avoiding a ticket, my homies Jake and Eli started talking about how it almost felt like SoCal didn’t want us there.
The next morning Riley “Erban” Crone and Bryn Jones came and rescued us from our broke-down car in Riley’s Boss Hawg Suburban, while my dad stayed with the car. We cruised it back to Laguna after a quick stop at In an Out Burger. It was pouring rain when we got to Laguna, so skating was out of the question. And what do you do when it’s wet and you can’t skate? Get Greasy! After chilling, greasing, and snacking hard on some Taco Bell Beefy Crunch Burritos, we went to a little kick-it at this Laguna house right on the water. After listening to some dubstep we bailed and started walking back to our hotel. When we were about a block away from the hotel (where my dad was sleeping peacefully) some cops trolled up on us, since we were out past curfew we hucked our Grease into the bushes and continued walking. Just then, the cops circled back and stopped. I thought we were totally chill until they made us sit on the curb and one officer started looking through the bush with his flash light . . . I was thinking “okay if he finds it I’ll just say it isn’t ours and we have nothing to do with it” so when he found it that’s exactly what I said. A few seconds after reciting that line he remarked “why does this have GREASY tagged on it? Your skateboard also has the same tag?” That’s when I knew I was in pretty deep shit. So they made us get up, then proceeded for a full-on pat-down. They found some “stuff” (thankfully missing the sling-shot I had in my back pack). Almost immediately they threw us in two squad cars and hauled us back to the station. Right when I got there I took a fat shit in the police department’s bathroom (Ha ha! take that bitches!!!). We then got all our parents called and my dad came and picked us up. He was pissed but not screaming or yelling so that was mellow.
The next morning was a little rough, we had to cut the visit short and drive back home. No skating or nothing! Lesson learned: don’t be out past curfew in the city of Laguna, or the pigs will get ya! Keep it greasy!
GENERAL DISCLIAMER: The statements, comments, and opinions expressed by Liam Morgan through Notes of a Greasy Young Man are those of “Mr. Greasy” himself, who is solely responsible for them, and they do not necessarily represent the views of Wheelbase LLC. Questions or comments regarding any information listed in this particular column can be addressed by contacting aliens, or channeling the spirit of Isaac Hayes.