Police

I attended a party this weekend. It was a pretty standard apartment party - lots of drunk young people in not a lot of space, bottles everywhere, cigarette smoke, loud music, and angry neighbors. I was outside, casually sipping a beer, talking with some friends, when all of a sudden the all too familiar figure of an automobile with lights on top of it turned down the street we were on.

In the States, over the course of high school and college, young men like myself cultivate an extra muscle that senses police activity in one's area, and then shuts off all functions of the brain as it tries to answer the question of "what do I do now?" which almost always results in awesome descision making under these circumstances. When I saw the cop turn the corner, the beer had already been thrown over my shoulder, I had changed into running clothes, and was in the process of trying my shoes, so very ready to do something dumb. Right before that happened, however, I realized that the drinking age was 18 and I was quite alright, legally speaking. I was still worried about this rambunctious party I was at, however. It was then that one my Mexican compadres explained to me the dynamics of the social relationship between the San Pedro Police and Monterrey's young people.

Compadre: Yea man, es de, the police can't really do anything as long as you aren't drinking in the street.

Randall: Really? Dude that's awesome. So if I just stand here (on the edge of the property), I can just hang out, maybe say hey. "Hola, policia, ¿como están?"

Compadre: Kind of. But don't say hey, that's bad. Then they can come in. Because you said hey.

Randall: Oh. Buzzkill.

Compadre: Yea man, es de, one time I was having a party and things got pretty loud, so the police came around to break it up - they can do that if they get enough complaints. Since it was my house I went outside to talk to them and just explained that the party was over, that it was my house and that we were all going to go to bed. The cop said fine, and left. Fifteen minutes later he came back, and I told him again that things were quieting down, that I was just getting people out and that everyone was going to bed like, pronto. He said fine and left. He came back again some time later, maybe like fifteen or twenty minutes, and by this point I was pretty drunk, so when I went out to talk to him I said "Sorry officer, I've been trying to go to sleep, but I can't, cause you see, es de, there's a party in my house..."