How to Avoid Getting Busted for Reefer

I've dodged many bullets, metaphorically speaking, unless of course you count that one lion-hearted stint of paintball where I took out 8 members of the opposing team with only 5 paintballs and a paint grenade. It was a ballsy dash from tree to tree dodging their paint bullets, which they froze the night before to inflict a serious bundle of pain. Maybe it was the knowledge of their insidious ways that caused me to pump excess amounts of adrenalin through my veins causing me to rush their bunkers. Nevertheless, I picked off 3 of them with pinpoint shots and as I reached one bunker I noticed there were the remaining 5 huddled together. Quickly I pulled the pin on the paint grenade and whipped it at high speed. It hit the one kid who turned right in time to catch it full force on the front of his mask, causing it to explode, covering the entire pack of 5. The moment was a great success as I managed to dodge a hail of rock hard paintballs to eliminate an entire team of shitheaded twerps.

But that moment pales in comparison to the numerous times that I've dodged the bullets of the system. If I can think back into my youth and up until recently I certainly should have a criminal record, but I don't and there is good reason for it. Luck is essentially a big part of it, but that is not worthy of talking about because there is no control over luck. The reason I am talking about is knowledge, but more importantly knowledge of the law and constitution given rights. I'm going to use my most recent encounter with law dogs as an example.

The setting was a dark, cloudy night in Hopatcong, New Jersey. Me and my pal Ry were heading out of town with a destination of his hometown in Rockaway twp, when suddenly red and white flashing lights lit up the interior of the car. There was no shoulder to pull over to so he began to look for a parking lot. I could tell by the look on his face that panic was beginning to set in, and where there is panic-especially with cops-there is trouble. Get Potted, a small florist shop, was the first parking lot Ry saw and as he began to pull in I noticed the rope used to block off the parking lot at night.

"Stop, you can't go in here. Stop. Stop. Stop," but my warning went seemingly unheard by Ry who had a similar expression to a deer in headlights. The rope caught the grill of his car and you could hear the tension building. Then, "POP!" the fence that was attached to the rope had snapped along with a portion of the car's grill. I pulled my palm down my face and as my skin snapped back I looked over and said, "This is not going to be good. You're probably getting arrested."

His eyes were still wide open and glazed with fear when he lightly responded, "Oh no. I fucked up."

At this point I looked in the side view mirror only to see the officer cautiously approaching, flash light in hand and gun at the ready. Ry rolled his window down, staring submissively into his own lap. "License and registration," said the officer who stood at the midway point of the car, subtly moving his flashlight around Ry's hands. I kept my head pointed out the passenger side window preparing myself for what would certainly become a scene of numerous cops shining lights in my face and bouncing questions off my eardrums. "I got one question and I want you to answer honestly," said the serious law enforcer, "where's the marijuana?" Having heard the question plenty of times before I knew what we were in for. I was hoping that 'one question' would have been, "Were you aware you just drove through a rope fence?" But no, it was the big one; a question that has led to millions of arrests nationwide and this case was no different.

He pulled Ry from the car, leaving me to do my best to eavesdrop on their conversation in order to get "our" story straight. When dealing with cops it is important that all the involved parties tell their side of the story with only minor and minimal differences. Those differences of course are in the wording, but it is extremely vital that the details never waver. This is often difficult when you are in the process of doing something illegal and most people who are smoking a blunt on the highway (or any other petty criminal activity) usually don't discuss their alibi in the case they are pulled over because it harshes the vibe and petty criminals for one reason or another are strangely superstitious.

However, our story wasn't a hard thing to tell because we weren't doing anything illegal; we had a destination and a plan. This was true as we were on our way to hang with friends in Rockaway leaving us free of any worries about details-unless Ry panicked horribly and gave a story that added extra elements to something that was simple and devoid of any suspicious behavior. As I finished pondering the situation I looked over to see Ry cuffed and draped over the hood of the car. "Well, my turn," I thought. The cop now made his way over to my side of the vehicle causing me to roll down the window. "Hell..."

"Get out of the car," said the stern faced lawman.

"What's going on?"

"Turn around and get against the car."

He was in no mood for polite chit chat and I knew this before getting out, however, it is always good to show the officer you are not afraid. Ry said very little to the cop when he was taken out of the car, mainly because the officer quickly found a gram of marijuana is his front pocket. In fact, the only thing Ry said was in defense to a statement the cop made about his red-eyed condition. "I drive a zamboni all day and my eyes tear up," it was a poor effort but in that kind of situation I've heard (and said) dumber things. Now the reason why it is important to show no fear is due to the cop mentality viewing fear as a sign of guilt and to them, the first sign of guilt (fear) is like blood in the water to a shark.

After a quick search and removal of all my possessions, my hands were pulled behind my back and I was told to stand across from Ry at the front, right corner of the car. It was cold and I could see Ry shaking. At first I thought it was the weight of the situation causing him to tremble but after a few minutes in the frigid weather I began to shake as well. "I'm sorry," Ry said, "I fucked up."

"Don't be, I'm not getting arrested," I said to him. He had no need to be apologetic and that was the last thing I wanted, was him to feel guilty that he dragged me into "his" situation. It was bad enough that he was getting arrested for possession of marijuana, reckless driving, and other charges that would surely come once more cops arrived. And in no time at all, while the original officer rummaged through the car, a member of the town's Drug Task Force arrived with a grin on his face. I've dealt with the same cop before and he is a relatively fair guy but an arrogant prick as well. In fact, I've dealt with all the cops who were on the scene during my high school years but again no charges or legal problems ever came from any of the encounters.

Ry was taken to the side by the skinny grinner, who also happened to be a "Drug Recognition Expert", which is more or less a nice title to have in a town where a good percentage of the youth population can be seen under the influence at most hours of the day and night. I watched as Ry was run through a series of tests, which, according to the DRE, he failed with flying colors. The entire time I was rubbing my balls, for warmth, and because I knew they would eventually smell my hands-a dirty trick indeed. Now I had to keep my hand-on-nut time brief because the sight of some longhair fondling his genitals can be seen as probable cause for a strip search, and my goal was avoid any time spent at the police station-especially time spent nude. Now one could ask why rub your balls if you weren't guilty and the answer to that would be, "for warmth," and since any further elaboration would be libelous I am going to say, "for warmth."

At this point Ry was thrown in the back of the DRE's car and another cop had pulled up. This cop was also familiar to me as he gave me a traffic warning due to violating the rules of the provisional license many years back. The fact that none of these cops recognized me is proof that I stay out of trouble, but nevertheless I wasn't about to reminisce with them. I was neglected for most of the investigation, which meant I was about to get grilled by 3 officers simultaneously. The original officer explained the situation to the recent arrival who briefly searched me, only to find nothing. Then after his explanation he pulled me to the front of the car, "How much did you smoke tonight?"

"Nothing sir."

"I think you're lying, give me your hands."
He grabbed my hands and took a big whiff, "I smell marijuana."

"There is no way you smell marijuana," and this was true because he smelt sweaty nuts, but I wasn't about to say that even though I wanted to.

"Well I do."

"Well I'm sorry but I wasn't smoking pot nor was I handling it," I said increasing the volume of my voice, "I don't appreciate you telling me I did something when I know I didn't. Only I know what I did and the fact that you are trying to tell me I'm high is pretty screwed up."

"I think you got it on you," he said cocking his head and stepping closer.

"Well I don't."

With that he pushed me onto the car and violently searched me for 15 minutes, desperately trying to find a flake, but he couldn't. He stopped searching after I informed him my dick wasn't weed and told me to start walking. Unfortunately the most recent arrival of the cops offered me a ride and I, like a dumbass, accepted. My performance up until this point was perfect. I denied, denied, denied and was brief with my answers. I even helped the cop search me as I informed him of pockets that he missed, but this was a slip up that I luckily have a way out of. On the ride home the cop secretly turned on a video recording device and held a casual conversation with me. The question that could potentially get me brought into court to testify against my friend (something I don't want to do) was, "So did you smell pot when you got in the car?"

"Kind of, but I have a cold so I couldn't be sure. If anything it was too vague to think anything of it."

He then went onto lecture me why one should get out of a car if it smells like pot as well as informing me that I was being video taped and could be subpoenaed to testify. Now the law dictates that in order to use a video tape in court the filming party must notify the person who is being filmed prior to the recording or have them sign a waiver of consent afterwards. In New Jersey law there is an exception for law enforcement agencies, but federal law makes no exceptions and as we all know federal law overrides state law. If I do get subpoenaed, which I doubt because they eventually got Ry to crack and charged him with a DWI, I can easily bring in a photocopy of the statute that will in turn have the tape thrown out.

Now this is the educational part of this piece. When it comes to being stopped and searched there are two words that strike fear into most hopheads: probable and cause. Put them together and you have probable cause, which is a law that gives an officer the right to search your vehicle if he smells marijuana (or any other drug), sees something suspicious (I.e. a plastic bag on the ground, a movement you made while being pulled over and so on) or any kind of "reckless" driving where he/she feels you are under the influence of something. Scientific studies have conclusively proved smell is an overly subjective sense, but that argument is useless in the case of probable cause because if you don't have anything then a search won't do you any harm and if you do have something then the law is serving its purpose by leading to your arrest.

The best way to avoid that terrible situation is to avoid smoking in your car. Just because you can't smell it doesn't mean a police officer can't. This is especially important to avoid when you are carrying drugs on you. As far as where to hide contraband in order to reduce the chance of a cop finding it, your best bet is to find some snug spot in your trunk. The reason for this is because a cop must get permission directly from you to search the trunk. If you do not give it and he decides to search anyway, anything he finds will be thrown out in court. Granted it will be a great inconvenience to have to clear yourself of that; just remember cops have cameras on their dash and mikes clipped to their shirt. If they ask and you say no, there will be a recording of it; that recording will make it much easier to clear your name.

However, police know their limits and have devious ways of getting you to consent so most importantly pay attention when they are asking you questions. If you are confident with the spot in your trunk and feel they won't find it you are better off allowing them to search, but you MUST be sure they will not stumble across your spot. The reason I say this is because a determined cop will simply call the K9 unit who will smell your stash no matter where you have it, resulting in an open warrant, which will more then likely lead to your arrest.

As far as good places to hide it on your person there aren't many. That safe haven known as your genitals may seem like a good place, but unless you duct tape it to your taint a well-trained officer will find it. Keistering it is also a solid method for securely hiding a stash but there is a reason why they say spread your legs and that is because that also spreads your cheeks. If you plan on going this route you better have superior control of your buttock muscles or wedge it in there real good. You could also put it in your sock by your toes because most cops just check the sides and tongue of your shoes, but your best bet is to steer clear of being searched. Now it is a shame that people have to go through so much effort to hide something like marijuana as it has been proven conclusively to be safer than alcohol, cigarettes and all the legal alternatives but that is a whole other issue and the basis is primarily economic.

To avoid extending this by many more pages it is best if I stay on topic. Again the best way to prevent your car from being searched is simply to refrain from burning marijuana or anything that carries a similar aroma inside of your automobile. It is not worth the risk and besides it only strengthens the argument that potheads are irresponsible, dumb and whatever other pot-related stereotype you can think of.

If you find yourself in a situation where an officer of the law is asking you how much you had to smoke or saying that he knows you are high the best thing you can do is to deny. Never stop denying because that is how they get you: when you let them. Most arrests for being under the influence of marijuana are because the person willingly admitted to it. This is often the result of the cop persistently accusing them and saying things like, "I want to help you, but I can't if you won't be honest." Even if they smell your hands and say they smell pot you still remain strong and say, "I don't know why you would smell that but I haven't smoked or touched any marijuana." Since pupils don't normally dilate from smoking their main method of identifying a dirty pothead is to look for red eyes. But remember pot isn't the only thing that causes red eyes.

Hopefully these tips help you if you ever find yourself in that horrible situation, but the best thing is to take proper precautions to stay away from situations of that nature. Don't smoke and drive. Don't smoke a bunch of bong packs and immediately get in your car. Be smart, be responsible and remember that marijuana should be legal but it will never become legal if people who smoke keep making dumb mistakes that only strengthen the argument against it. Like everything that is unjust in this world the only means of restoring fairness is to lead by example and show that all the preconceived notions are ill-founded and do not apply to the greater part of the population. And if worst comes to worst we can always rush their bunkers and throw paint in their face.