Oklahoma City Drunk Tank
A sobering view of the Oklahoma City Drunk Tank

It was a day like any other day in OKC - the daylight hours were spent toiling over billing system code, arguing with managers about deadlines, test plans and thinking of going out for a beer.

"Hey - you've had a pretty crappy day" my roommate beckoned - "let's go out!"

Out to the Red Dog Strip Club that is. A place famous for its young scantly clad girls and cheap beer. Heck, drinking beer and staring at mostly naked women (they can't be nude in Oklahoma) was hard to turn down when compared to the alternative - phone the wife from the corporate apartment, watch tv, play sega, drink beer.

So the adventure began. After rounding up about 5 other fellow transplanted Canadians, we arrived at the famous Red Dog and plunked down as close to the stage as we dared. Beers came round, someone paid and a few of us grumbled about the watery brews as most beer in Oklahoma that is sold cold has to be less than 3.2% alcohol (by volume).

After a couple of rounds of beer and stage girls, the grumbling about work stopped. We had finished the jokes about the place, its 'burger barn' chairs and tables with dark seedy corners where the women give 'lap dances.'

The single door to the large open bar opened, sending a beam of light across the stage - I turned to look. It was the cops ! Two guys about 6 feet tall, stocky and sporting crew cuts and frowns. The first cop's icy stare in our direction caused me to quickly look away. My coworker to the right of me had already completed his head twist back with a half worried smile on his face. I took advantage of the moment - "I think they've come to take you away, they don't like long hairs around here!" His shoulder length hair often got him stares at the malls and it seemed like the right time to push that paranoia button of his a little more.

The cops made a bee-line for our area, now with no expression on their faces. I turned away before my friend could respond. Now I was getting a little paranoid...

Keystone Cops

For what seemed forever, they stood behind us. You could just feel that they were staring at us. I had to sneak a peak to see if they were still there. As I turned, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Sir, would you step outside ?"

I didn't know how to respond other than the obligatory "Okay" response as I didn't want to get into trouble. One officer led me out while the other trailed behind. "Um, what's going on ? Are you looking for somebody ?" We stepped outside.

The first officer's southern accent was pretty thick with indifference : "Do you have any Identification ?"

I pulled out my wallet (no sudden moves !) and handed my Alberta Driver's license to him, taking it apart first - it was one of those old two piece licenses - created before the computerized fully laminated cards. He seemed really agitated now. I responded with the explanation that "it's a Canadian license - perhaps you haven't seen one before!?"

"Are you claiming diplomatic immunity ?" was the retort from the second officer.

"No sir!" I responded with a smirk. It was pretty funny, given the circumstances.

"Do you think that's f**k-ing funny?"

"Umm, no sir ?" I stammered.

Now, I don't think I've heard a bible-belt living Oklahoman drop their f's (swear) in the time that I had been living there (off and on for about a year). The situation had just turned for the worst.

"Well, Steven..." the first officer started as he glanced at the license again, still looking puzzled, "it's like this - you're going to be arrested for being 'drunk in public!'

"Drunk ?" I replied - knowing that I could probably be under the limit after a case of 3.2% beers in a few hours. "At what level would I have to blow to be 'drunk in public?'"

"Lev-el ?" - they responded in almost unison. D'oh - I had touched a nerve. All my teachers' points about "Steve likes to question authority" were coming coming back to haunt me (again). But this time the other side was going to get the final word (they had guns !).

"That's enough - hands behind your back!" - as the first officer whipped out the handcuffs.

The door to the waiting squad car opened and my head was given that 'gentle shove' to lead me to the seat. The cuffs cut into my wrists right away. Hmm, so this is what the back of a squad car looks like ? How long will they leave these cuffs on ? What the heck is going on ?

My friends were starting to exit the bar, they looked as confused as I did when they spotted me in the back of a squad car ?! Several of my friends are large guys, including my roommate, who I know hates to be described as "tall", but he's tall! The officers called for backup and two other cars arrived.

Eventually, my roommate came over to the car, careful not to touch it or get too close. He told me that he would pick me up in the morning.

"I'll pick you up at 11am - twelve hours from now..." he said. He voice was a bit muffled, but it got through. I rolled my head back and mouthed a few swears. The handcuffs where still there, but now I was starting to get hot/mad.

The officer came over. I was set to ask about what the heck was going on. But he lifted the door handle on the driver's side and nothing happened. He squinted into the cab at the keys in the ignition of the running car. He picked up his radio. Soon the other cars came back and opened the door for him. Great - keystone cops have got their man : "pasty white Canadian is drunk in public - deported back to Canada, film @ 11!"

He starts to drive. "So, I'm taking you to the Drunk Tank - they'll let you out in the morning." I could see his eyes in the rear view mirror. "Why were you in that place ?"

"I had a bad day - my coworkers just wanted me to relax."

"Well, people get killed in that place you know."

"I was okay with that group, we could take care of ourselves."

"What do you do?" - now he was actually being civil, almost curious.

"I'm a computer programmer from Canada - on a work visa, which is why I'm concerned now about getting a record for something that occurred when I did nothing wrong." He rolled his eyes that led me to believe that he was feeling a little remorseful about this situation. "I don't want a record that could me my deportation or being banned from working here!"

"So why were you causing trouble - laughing at us when we first go there ?"

"Laughing ? Oh ! I saw you guys and made a joke to my coworker beside me that you had coming for him as he has very long hair !"

"Y'all got long hair!"

La cucaracha

We pulled up to a building that had a steel door and bars on the windows. "I'm going in to talk to the caretaker and then I'll drop you off - you'll have to stay here for 12 hours before they can let you go."

I was stone cold sober by now. I only had two of those watery beers, but I was starting to think that I had better see a washroom 'soon.'

After a few minutes, he led me in to the foyer. One side there was a gate with heavy metal bars, the other was an open area with some cots - a couple ladies of the evening were lounging around. They stared up and down at me in my dress slacks, leather shoes and ralph lauren shirt.

"Empty your pockets and you'd better give me those shoes." The caretaker commanded as he put my shoes together and documented my wallets contents. "$100 bill ?"

"My boss gave that to us this week as a bonus/incentive."

The cop shook his head and left. I finished up with my signature and a nod that I would be let out in 12 hours. The caretaker opened the gate with a creak that drowned out his late night gospel station on the b&w TV behind his desk. I entered the drunk tank....

It was dark. There was just the flickering of an overhead fluorescent light over the toilet/urinal area. The toilet was soiled and the urinal was cracked. I wondered if somebody's head had broken it. You couldn't see who was on the cots on the sides, but I could hear some spanish barbs coming from that area - followed by kissing noises. I headed to the far corner where it appeared nobody had been, yet.

I plunked down on the pillowless cot, facing the wall. I didn't move until several minutes later when I heard somebody sit down on the cot behind me.

"La cucaracha!" he said as he cupped his hand over a VERY large cockroach (well, large to a Canadian boy), caught it, threw it to the ground and stopped on it.

I smiled and got up, wondering how many more were there in the corner - I headed to the cots by the light. It was closer to the entrance and I thought perhaps the caretaker could see that area from his desk. I could hear him warning the guys standing by the gate that they had to stand back so he could see... They were trying to talk to the 'girls' on the other side.

A little while later, the guy in the cot next to me started a conversation : "Um, did you start a fight with that police officer, you don't look like the typical drunk?"

"Nope, I was just hanging around the Red Dog!"

"Oh! Cops have been trying to shut that place down for a while now - they like to harass the customers." This guy was pretty coherent, guess he's been here for 11+ hours.

"Steve ! Steve, come here" came the command from the guys hanging around the gate. They were pretty drunk. "Those girls want to talk to you."

I shook my head no. Eventually they brought a piece of paper with "call me" scribbled on it with some almost legible phone numbers on it. I was never going to live this one down with my coworkers !

An Eventful Night

For several hours, people came and left. The cops dropped off one guy who yelled over and over again that he was just sleeping in his truck and he had to go to a $11/hour job the next morning "early." Several guys commented that you have to get arrested and they'll let you go for the night on $50 bail. Now that sounds like the plan, but I was sure that wouldn't go over well the next time I crossed the border ? Was that a felony or misdeamnor ? Argh. Too late now. Cops finally came and "arrested" the guy who had to go to work. I guess he didn't want to lose that job (there aren't a lot of jobs in OKC and I wouldn't want these guys to know that I made more that that guy's rate).

The night went on. My boss arrived and tried to talk the caretaker into letting me go. He finally let me know that he or his brother (other boss) would come to pick me up the next day...

Later, the guy who caught the cockroach faked a heart attack to get out. Paramedics took him away anyway. Eventually it was late enough (4am?) that the babbling fools in the corner fell asleep finally. ( I was getting tired of hearing from the guy that claimed he was in jail with Ike Turner). The caretaker came around with the mop and casually whispered to me that I should "come with him to the desk."

He handed me my shoes and responded to my puzzled look that "the officer said I should let you go anytime after everybody fell asleep." More questions about what I did to him came about. I was as puzzled as he was...

So, I took a cab back to the apartment, spoke briefly to my roommate, showered and passed out. My roommate assured me that he would tell our phb that I was not coming in for a while due to my adventure.

Of course, the phb phoned me at 9am due to an urgent matter that couldn't wait even though everybody told him their side of the story. But phb bashing is another blog.
- posted by Steve @ 9:30 PM