New York's Finest

I was enjoying a nightcap with Conny, my sister and her friend Neville at Revolution, a slightly funky place near my apartment. They have a lounge at the front, near a series of doors that open out to the street. We had managed to secure seating by sharing a sofa with Eduardo, a young man from Spain, who apparently had come to Revolution on his own.

Eduardo was quite friendly and talkative. At first he asked if we were all actors who just got off work. Seeing as we were not far from Broadway and a ton of theatres, and dressed somewhat, well, theatrically (alright, we had just come from Paddles, but that's another story), it wasn't a crazy guess.

While we tried to explain that we were much more mundane, Eduardo, who had a view to the street through the open front of the bar, noticed something that we didn't. He made a very polite but swift farewell, shaking our hands, and left.

A moment after that, people wearing various "NYPD" shirts, and jackets and hats started pouring into the bar. These were not uniformed police, but people dressed rather casually, but with one had a radio, another a clipboard and a few were brandishing flashlights, so it was clear something was up.

Perfect, I think, I take my sister and her friend, who I've not met before, to a bar I recommend, and it gets raided.

So most of these people are just standing around. One of them is talking to the bartender. The house lights come up. One cop is shining a light on the liquor license. The waitress comes over to our group.

"Is everything alright?" she asks.

"We're fine if you're fine," Neville offers.

"Oh, this? This is just training. It's an exercise for the police academy. These are just baby cops."

Cops-in-training, eh? I glance around and notice the place has emptyed out quite a bit. Maybe it would be more considerate to train at some other time, perhaps not late Saturday night.

We keep drinking our drinks, sharing our various stories of police harassment, while the police academy follies continues on around us. Now that Eduardo, who obviously was either underage or without a green card, has left, there's now room for me to sit on the couch. Outside the bar, on the sidewalk, is one of the trainees. Apparently he's nipped out to the store next door to get some chips, and he's munching away like a good bored student. He smiles at us, and rolls his eyes, and I know what he means.

Next time I look out, I get to see him finish his snack, and drop the bag on the street.

Conny will tell you, I get apoplectic with outrage when I see people litter. It makes me nuts. To me, littering shows moral weakness. It's inexcusible. There are times when you are justified in killing another person, like self-defense, but there is never justifiable littering.

To see a cop-wannabe do it, someone who is supposed be getting in his line of work to better the city, was infuriating. What's even worse is I didn't do a damn thing about it. When it comes to crossing horns with the police, especially in this city, it's just not worth it. It makes me realize that something is deeply wrong in this city and its police, when a law abiding person like myself is afraid of the police.

The cop-wannabe also discarded the cap to his drink on the ground too. There ain't no justice.
posted 4:33 PM | link |