The Last Action Zero
aka Fool Hand Luke
I was arrested when I was a teenager. I grew up watching bad ‘70s/80s action-comedies, so I always assumed that when and if I was ever arrested, I would be the wisecracking tough guy who begrudgingly earned The System’s respect even as I thrust my middle finger in its face. I always thought it would go down like this:
ARRESTING OFFICER: You have the right to remain silent.
ME: Too bad - I wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself.
But the reality was way different. First of all, the arresting detectives didn’t run me down on the street, chasing me on foot as I led them through a series of blind alleys and streets I knew like the back of my hand. No, they came to my parents’ apartment on a Saturday. I was showering, and I walked into the living room and the detectives were sitting there with my parents.
And I wasn’t about to tell these cops to go fuck themselves; seeing the look on my mom’s face, I was grateful they were there. Because I knew that the worst thing the cops could do to me was put me in jail, where at least that would be the end of it. In fact, the thought of a judge sentencing me to six-to-twelve months of not getting yelled at by my parents sounded really really good at that moment.
I ended up in court, and when you’re in court and you’re surrounded by the judge and the armed officers and all the worst dregs, you don’t feel very cocky. I mean, I walked in there like, “This is ridiculous, this is bullshit, fuck this place.” And then you actually approach the judge and you look at his face and you realize, this is a guy who’ll give you time and forget your name before his head hits the pillow.
In my tough guy fantasy it would go like this:
JUDGE: To the prosecutor’s question?
ME: To the prosecutor’s ugly tie.
JUDGE: I’m fining you fifty dollars for contempt of court.
ME: Here’s a hundred; his suit’s shit, too.
In real life, he said, “Do you know what you’re in here for?” And I did what my attorney told me, which was nod and look sad and let him do the talking. Because the crime I had been arrested for was prank phone calling.
Which is a whole other story I’ll write about some other time.
I was mostly terrified standing in front of that judge. But I will admit that there was, in the depths of my movie-loving heart, a lurking fantasy that I would somehow become, through a combination of brains, luck, and a killer sense of humor, the king of the prison. Luckily I didn’t have to find out if I was a Cool Hand Luke or more of an Andy Dufresne.
But nothing wakes you up real quick like a real judge giving an accurate-if-slightly-graphic rundown about what he’s seen happen to guys like me in Riker’s Island. The truth is, you can’t be tough in prison when you’re in for prank phone-calling. The other inmates would be like, “I’m in here for armed robbery and killing three cops. What you in here for?”
“I wanted to talk to Mike Oxmall and Hugh Jass.”
I didn’t get sent to prison, which is fortunate; it’s pretty clear if you spend more than one second looking at me that I’m not the stuff action heroes are made of. And in a move of judicial cruelty, he sentenced me to go home with both my parents, who were pissed.
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