Blog: thebangkokfive on LiveVideo.com

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City: Hollywood, CA
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I am a level one security threat - p...
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I am a level one security threat - p...

FRIDAY, MAY 16, 2008 (6:12 PM)

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I am a level one security threat - part 2

(I'm feeling anxious)

So I sat there with my head turned away from the crazy, seemingly coked out stewardess while she ran up and down the aisle barking at people. I watched as they were steadily growing weary of the crazy energy she was creating in the cabin. No one had really seen me raise my voice and maybe three people had heard me say fuck, so all and all, it was she who was looking like the threat. As I sat there taking her abuse; she was going on and on about how satisfied she was that I was going to jail when we landed, the people around me, people who would normally take one look at me and decide I was an asshole started to rally around me. The gentleman in the seat behind me handed me his card and told me if I needed an attorney or a witness, he'd be happy to step in. The lady across the aisle offered that she was a judge and handed me her number.

My guitarist, who was at the time pleased at all of this, thought it was real Rock and Roll, started kind of feeding it. Who else wanted to get in on the drama? He loved drama. The kind old lady to my right decided "she'd like to speak with the cops when they showed up" as well. It was strange to see all of the straight laced plebs, these non-pirates, join ME, an outsider and a deviant. It was actually pretty cool. I think in the end, there were like two attorneys, one sitting judge and one ex-judge all within a four foot radius of me wanting to crucify the stewardess. When I'd go to defend myself, to say something to shut her crazy ass up, I'd get a pat on the back or a reassuring; "Don't talk to her son, she's crazy…" Or, "Never mind her dearie, she's just an idiot…" She soon had lost pretty much all support from the good folks in the cattle call section of this absolutely shite airline. Idiotically, she went ahead and got on the sky phone in front of everyone to "officially" call the airport police to come and arrest me, "The second we landed, before ANYONE was allowed off the plane".

It was actually pretty funny, and as much as I hate the police for seemingly always fucking with me, my band mates, my friends, lovers, etc. I actually support the families of fallen officers with thirty five of my hard earned dollars each and every year and have been doing so for the past four years. I guess I get it in some way, not to mention the stickers they give me make it less likely I get pulled over for stupid things like driving a pile of shit car, or throwing my garbage out the window. Fucking cops… Where were we? Oh yes, so I was going to jail when we landed. Awesome! Just what I needed. So we land and finally, the voice comes over the intercom: "Please remain seated, we have an issue needing to be addressed by local law enforcement. Once the issue has been resolved, you are free to leave your seats and exit the aircraft." Shit! I thought the anxiety and torture I had been going through was just some left over Irish Catholic crap I needed to put myself through to feel good about myself again. I wasn't really getting arrested, was I?

Minutes later, I look up and there's a dead serious, bald headed sheriff asking me sternly to gather up my belongings and come with him. He was short and stocky and ready to fuck my shit up at the very slightest indication that I was not going to fully and completely comply. Blanco knew what was going on, he thankfully has a nice habit of knowing what's going on, and immediately came up and stated that he was the tour manager of the band I was in, The Bangkok Five and that he'd need to accompany us. While Blanco was talking, all of the sweet, dear folks around me started in on the cops. "He didn't do ANYTHING…" one said. "She's been baiting him for an hour and the poor thing has just been staring down at his lap not saying a word." Actually, this is true. After I had realized I couldn't win, that on airplanes post 911, we are no longer customers but captives from the second we step through security. We are defendants for the duration of the flights we pay out of our asses to be on, so I just kind of submitted.

By the time the officer was engaging me, I was like a sad little puppy dog. I can only imagine how big and red my sorry puppy dog eyes were when I asked him if I could pee before we got off the plane and he took me to jail… Yes, I had to pee again but was told I'd have to wait. The officer kind of gave Blanco some shit and finally agreed to let him accompany us. The cop was getting crap from everyone around him; I can imagine he was feeling a bit awkward. The "Chihuahua" was barking at everyone, the bystanders were trying to explain to him that The Chihuahua was an idiot. Interesting to mention, I don't think I've ever seen such a clear indication how effectively the police actually put the old "Good Cop, Bad Cop" into play. But there they were, the easily identifiable, "Bad Cop", he acted like a prick the second he engaged me, and the "Good Cop" who just kind of stood in the background whole time rocking back and forth on his chunky, cheap cop shoes looking pleased with himself. "Good Cop's" partner finally got everyone to shut up and we walked off of the plane. I looked back at my new found friends and gave them the sorriest, hang dog expression I could muster, hoping they'd actually come and help me out. Once off the plane, away from the density of the bad breath and body odor on board, I was allowed to plead my case. I've dealt with cops in many situations, from many different positions: Getting my ass beat by the Guardia Civil my first week in Barthelona.

Getting fucked up as all hell in a Spanish jail on beer we'd actually purchased from the jailer (another story all together), getting arrested on felony charges as a minor, not once, but on three separate occasions. Good times. One could say; I've had a lot of experience with cops. What did I learn? I learned to shut the fuck up until they are ready to listen. You sit there, calm, cool and collected and, when they are ready to hear you out, you tell them your side of things in a calm, cool and collected manner. If you are guilty, you don't say shit… This time, I was sober and I made sure I was respectful and mellow. Halfway into my explanation, The Chihuahua, I guess feeling like she actually might be in trouble, came out and started barking at the cops. "He's a threat to national security! He's out of control!" and, "He CUSSED at me! He used the ..F Word'!" All the while, I sat there, leaning against a table directly outside of the gate, calm, cool and collected. Blanco looked at them with a smile and said, "Gee I wonder who's out of control?" The cops asked him to kindly refrain from speaking, but we knew what was coming. The Chihuahua was going to manage to illustrate to the officers, first hand, what a total and complete moron she was and was hopefully going to bark her way right out of a job. They asked her to calm down, which I thought was awesome, then they requested she go away until they had finished interviewing me, which I thought was awesomer. Once they had finished with me, she'd be allowed to "slowly and precisely tell them what the problem had been". I told them the exact truth. I had done nothing wrong and did not need to lie. I even explained to them that I realized I had lost the moral high ground when I used the word "fuck".

But, that the woman had clearly either been snorting coke the entire flight and had rendered herself incapable of doing her job. Or, she simply wanted to see what would happen if she treated the skinny guy with the gay hair-do like shit; either way she was wrong and I was, if not totally innocent, somewhat innocent. Unfortunately for The Chihuahua, she'd never managed to calm down. The entire time I'd been relaying my side of things to the police, she'd been kind of drifting on and off the plane, grabbing anyone who'd listen, and telling them how I'd cussed her out, threatened her, whatever. There was clearly imbalance in this woman's life, and while I'm good at driving the ladies nuts, any fool could see I'd not been involved with this person long enough to make anyone this crazy. Slowly, as I spoke, the witnesses started gathering around. First the cops told them to please stand back and they'd be heard. But as The Chihuahua ran around talking to herself and anyone who'd listen, they relented and let some of them speak. Of course her account of what happened included me telling her to "Fuck off" and apparently I had "Called her a bitch" as well. At this point, there were enough witnesses to completely annihilate her complaint against me. The bad cop kind of muttered under his breath; "She's full of shit." Blanco and I looked at each other and laughed with our eyes.

After her version of events had been completely shot down by every witness within earshot, both good cop and bad cop had realized they'd been lured into a complete fucking waste of time. There were no actionable offenses here, just a young lad who'd wanted to take a good old fashioned piss. No harm had been done to anyone. Unfortunately for all of us, the pilot, a very tall, weathered looking gentleman approached us and started explaining to me, very sternly, how I needed to understand all of the trouble I had caused and that I needed to apologize and realize that I could never, ever do what I had done again. We felt stupid, including the two officers as we had to sit there and listen to this respectable, accomplished man make a kind of fool out of himself. It was like the little boy in the four of us were all taken back to our respective childhoods… We were a little star struck: The CAPTAIN was personally addressing us with very, very important, life or death information. I looked at Bad Cop and he indicated with a nod that I was to apologize and tell the pilot that I understood precisely what he was trying to impart to me and that, while the Chihuahua might have been a little over the top, I had acted in a reprehensible manner and was completely and totally wrong. It would never happen again, and I was really, very sorry. It feels great to totally sell the fuck out but I had a feeling this would secure my freedom. I have swallowed many a big, fat, smelly shit sandwich in my day but this time, I think I actually managed to gag while I was choking it down. With my apology to the captain, they took both Blanco and myself aside and explained that while I would not be arrested, they'd have to bring me to the station in the airport and file a report with my relevant information. They were surprisingly apologetic and quite cool in the end.

The Chihuahua just kind of ran out of steam and disappeared into the executive lounge or wherever they go to do another line. The kind old witnesses wandered off, back to their lives and we were taken to the station located a couple terminals away from the one we had exited the aircraft into. We sat down and gave the info they needed as well as taking their info so as to put them both on the guest list for the show that night; it turned out they were both fans of the old Rock and Roll and apparently wanted to get the party started with our deviant asses. After we all shook hands and made some remarks about what an idiot the Chihuahua had been, I limped along with Blanco at my side, dragging my overnight luggage through the airport. The next day we did a radio show which apparently transmitted to a couple million people. That one was for the haters…

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