Pieces of Me - Stand in Line

[ellyssian]

Just another pistol, waiting for someone
To come and pull the trigger
So let his bullet fly through the air...

Impellitteri - Stand in Line

As this has come up in general conversation several times in the past few days, we'll start with it...

Back in the sixties, Belmont and Watertown used to get together on the town line, right on Common Street, and rumble - and the kids from Belmont were not the ones with slick-backed hair and leather jackets. Up on Belmont Hill, there's the four million dollar mansion (amongst other slightly pricey properties.) Belmont has always been a bit hoity-toity, and its police department had a reputation for not being completely kind to long-haired weirdos who happened to stray into their way.

While I was working at the music store, I spent many an hour talking with a Belmont police officer who brought his daughter in for lessons - piano, I think, but just as likely flute or saxophone or something else. One of those times I related the following little bit that I had recently experienced in Arlington (that's Ahlington, for those who are unclear on Massachusetts place names):

I was over my girlfriend's house - we'll call her Denise - with a bunch of others, and we were hanging around in her front yard. I don't recall if her mother was at home or not. Two good officers of the Arlington police department arrived on the scene, because long haired guys and girls talking quietly on private property (with permission, and, indeed, with one or more residents of said property) are not to be allowed.

The six or so of us were lined up on the front lawn, and the good officers walked down the line.

"What's your name, asshole? Where are you from, asshole? Go back to Watertown, asshole."

They worked their way down the line, and the only thing that changed was the name of the town.

See, I had gone to high school at a regional school, and most of the assembled group were current or former students, and all but one or two were from different towns. Apparently, it was not legal to cross town lines. Or the cops were bored.

Anyway, the point (not that there really is one), is that the officer from Belmont said "a good cop can tell the troublemakers" and said he would never stop or question or harass me, because it was obvious that - despite long hair, leather jacket, and what have you - that I was not the troublemaking type.

Of course, I think that the many hours spent discussing various subjects with me did more than his own sixth sense, although one can always hope, but I'm thinking that there are - judging by the instant accurate ID ability - far less good cops than one would like.