Storytime Sunday: Grand Theft Golf Cart

In which Rachel comes within 15 feet of being arrested as an accessory to grand theft.

Boredom and insulation from consequences breeds a certain kind of adventurous nihilism. There are no consequences, so clearly nothing matters. But that just invites pushing the boundaries, seeing how far you can go until there actually are consequences.

Getting caught smoking weed on campus 3 times and ignored smoking at least as many? No consequences. Going to work drunk, and even drinking at work? Nothing. Stealing benches from the school and proudly displaying them outside my house? Pfft. Smoking cigarettes inside the computer lab in front of the publicly-accessible webcam? Please. I don't remember if this was before or after I biked through the library naked.

Whitman was a game preserve, where we were protected from responsibility. And we were going to (incrementally) take that as far as possible.

So it was one fateful... I honestly don't know what night - Tuesday and Saturday were about the same then. Some night a bunch of us were getting drunk. Anyway, this one guy, let's call him C., proposed stealing a golf cart from the school. He said he'd stolen it before, it's really easy. He just needs to stick his Leatherman in the key slot and turn. However, he's already in trouble with the school (somehow, I don't remember how he pulled that off), so he needed someone else to take the fall if they got caught. Nothing matters, so K. volunteers as driver/fall guy.

The plan we didn't realize we made was to all go on a joyride. Or at least, I didn't realize until it was happening.

I heard a putt-putt going down the dark street, then a "heeeyyyy~~". The golf cart was ours.

Seven of us (if I'm not mistaken) piled onto that one golf cart. It was one of those maintenance golf carts, so it had a flat bed in back; four of us piled on there. Another three crammed into the front seat. And we were off.

Off where? WHO CARES? Past Hunter Conservatory, up the street, back between the buildings. "WOOOOOOOOO!" Zigging and zagging all over the damn place. Where to next? How about we buzz Prentiss (the girls' dorms)? Yeah! Not that we voted on any of it, we just rationalized it after K. drunkenly swerved in that direction.

So we swerved between the dorms, down the path, through the sprinklers - don't touch the brakes! - almost into a bench, past the music building... We were about to go back out onto the street, off to who knows where.

"Police!" Fuck. K. brought the cart to a halt just at the (far) edge of the sidewalk.

"Step out of the vehicle." 4 drunk college students proceeded to fall off the back.

"Have you all been drinking?" Eeyup. Very drinking.

"Which one of you was driving?" Okay, K., now's the time to be the fall guy.

"I'm going to ask again, which one of you was driving?" Any minute here, K.

K. was not going to be the fall guy.

Another cop arrived. A sergeant. He surveyed the scene, turned to the cop next to him and said "I was expecting a drunk Bill Murray."

K. eventually did confess in a manner so anticlimactic I don't even remember it happening. Or maybe I would have remembered if I wasn't freaking out because, oh yeah, cops.

"Are you all Whitman students?" Sighs of relief all around. Yep, yep, yep, "kinda." Goddammit, C., they don't need to get into full time vs. part time vs. no time.

We were all Whitman students, so what did that mean? "We'll call security and..." The cop could barely keep a straight face here, "see if they want to do anything."

There was one hard-ass among the cops, always going on about C.'s "weapon" (his Leatherman) and being generally annoyed and bitchy. Then there were the rest of the cops arrayed at this scene. Shaking their heads, resisting laughter, cracking jokes between each other. I guess there are worse things they could get called to.

One of the cops reminded us how lucky we were which side of the sidewalk we were on when they caught us. This side of the sidewalk, Whitman security gets us, that side of the sidewalk the po-po gets us. Po-po gets us for theft in excess of $1,000 - i.e., Grand Theft Golf Cart. (Not that Whitman would ultimately press charges, but still - they don't have beer in those jail cells.) But we were on this side so...

Finally security arrived to tell us to go home and sleep it off. Well, okay, he did ask for all our names and student ID numbers first. He was very official about it and everything. And then he sent us home, said we'd be hearing about disciplinary action later. Uh-huh. So can we go now?

We could go, and that could only mean one thing: go back home and drink and party more. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

P.S.: There never was any disciplinary action. No one even heard a peep from admin except for K., who was summoned for a Talking To. No consequences. Nothing matters.