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After I was discharged from the Navy I was disillusioned with America. I spent a year in Europe then, following a girl I had met in England visited Canada. I lived in a co-op for over a year. It was a 5 bedroom house with about 8 different residents.
One night, in the middle of winter, we got home about 3 AM. As we pulled into the driveway a cop on the beat was walking by. One of the women called out to him saying she was going to put on some tea, would he like to join us. the temps that time of night was about -20, so he said sure. We went in, visited with the cop, had a cup of tea, gave him a chance to warm up. We told him that we did not lock the door and anytime he needed a break to just come on in. We showed him where the cups, the kettle and the tea was kept and told him to help himself.
Frequently, after that, I would hear the front door open in the middle of the night. Shortly after the kettle would start to whistle and a little bit later the door would open and close again and I would know that our neighborhood cop on the beat had come in to warm himself.
Late winter that year, a good friend from the Navy came to visit. He had just come back from a Red Sea cruise and had picked up some Pakistani Red hashish while there. We were all sitting around the kitchen table (about 12 of us) with several chunks of hash on pins smoldering and being passed around. Billy (my friend from New York/Navy) had just lit another one about the size of a thumb nail when in walks the cop.
Billy turned white as a sheet (he was still in the Navy and could not afford being busted in Canada) dropped the pin and hash, and you see him desperately trying to think of a way to hide everything. the cop walked over to the kettle and started to put it on when Barb (one of the women in the house) told him to help himself to the tea on the table. He got himself a cup, poured a cup of tea, added a bit of honey, and sat down. All this while Billy was stunned and silent. One of the pins circling was handed to Barb and she took a big deep toke, offered it to the cop, who declined, but took it and passed it on to the person next to him. The cop finished his tea, said good night, and left.
Billy recovered a bit and said "Did I see that for real or was it a hallucination?" Barb laughed and told him it was a Canadian cop, not to worry about small stuff, and get that next pin going...........I think Billy really considered moving there later on.
I lost track of Billy over the years, but will always remember his "deer in the headlights" expression.
Goodpasture, thank you very much for posting that song. I love it! I have been playing it over and over and it is starting to drive my wife crazy.
I had no idea what the slang "Indian Car" meant so I looked it up.
"A car that is held togeather by a bumber sticker or is just a plan rez bomb, can only go for 5 miles before needing a rest. has a song and a movie dedicated to it. (Smoke signals, and Keith secola "indian car")"
Further complications arose early in the program when officers realized that the Code Talkers simply did not have words for mission-critical vocabulary such as “GPS,” “computer” or “integration.” Fortunately, once the terms were explained, dialectic equivalencies were generated.
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