So the other day I was working on an MTV hip hop show, and we were shooting in a hotel suite in Beverly Hills. Yep that one, 90210 the whole deal, fancy hotels, insanely expensive shops, and Ferrari’s are more common than Toyota’s on some of the streets.

We had all the usual rapper stuff going on: 15 plates of oxtails, mac and cheese, a case of Fanta and a bottle of Hennessey. Oh and a shitload of weed. I mean it was like a Cheech and Chong movie in the suite we rented, you could hardly see through the smoke. Everyone was walking around with their own personal blunt. People down the hallway began to complain that they weren’t invited to the party. We were in there for hours, I didn’t even smoke any myself but I could feel the second hand stuff was starting to get to me a little bit.

The job wrapped up and I loaded up my gear and took the elevator to the valet and gave him my parking slip. I fully stunk of pot and so did all my equipment cases and he smirked at me as he held the door to my car hoping for a tip, maybe a free dime-bag?

I drove off into the opulent night happy to be off work a little early and no longer surrounded by guys with nicknames like “Creamy and Jump-Up”. I even called Milk to crack wise about the whole experience. I was on the phone with her for a minute or so when a police cruiser behind me lit up it’s cherries.

I was hoping he was just trying to get around me but when I pulled over he pulled over with me.

“Oh shit, I just got pulled over” I said to Milk.

“Good luck with that, the engineer just got home from skiing and he broke himself so I guess we both are busy now” She laughed as she hung up.

I watched the cop get out of his car and hoist up his bat-belt and walk towards me. It was now time to do the time honored tradition of guessing why I was going to “talk to the man.” “I wasn’t speeding, I think” I said to myself, “did I blow a stop sign?” I wondered.

I suddenly remembered that I completely stink of weed. Like not a little bit, my car and I smell like Snoop Dogg and Willie Nelson had been on a road trip. I was now sure that my evening was about to get longer and involve some invasive questions about the contents of my vehicle. I felt that old sinking feeling from my youth when dealing with the cops usually didn’t go smoothly.

In my mind I’m no longer a 40 year old boring white guy with a family, in my mind I’m 19 with hair down to my ass wearing spiked motorcycle leathers and wondering why I constantly get stopped by cops and followed by store detectives.

“Um hi officer, what’s up?” I asked.

“Sir, you need to turn on your headlights.” He said.

“Oh shoot, the valet must have turned them off, I leave them in auto” I said.

“It happens, now you have a great weekend” He turned and walked back to his cruiser.

“What the hell just happened?” I said to no one. I flipped on my lights and drove off shaking my head. Times have sure changed.

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