Tonight we were nearly busted. Our notorious gang was face to face with the police, caught red-handed. Not only red-handed my friends, but in the very act of committing an (apparently) grievous crime. Yes, we had been caught rehearsing too loud.

Admittedly musical instruments in our hands could be viewed as weapons of mass destruction. There is also no doubt we could easily be mistaken for scruffy third world denizens as well, but that is not the point. The point (as best I recall) is that we were face to face with a Law Enforcement Official. Who, having solved all other crimes in the city, had been dispatched to investigate the sounds of cats being strangled at high volume.

With the kind of mental acuity that one usually associates with toilet bacteria, the officer in question immediately ascertained he required backup. Within minutes, not one but two more cruisers arrived. I cannot help but wonder what the other officers were thinking as they rolled up to find find one of their own face to face with a group of middle aged men holding guitars. The fear must have been palpable, their hands sweaty on the grips of their Tasers(tm).

Warily the officers approached in phalanx. Not knowing when one of us would throw a bottle of Geritol into the air with a wild war-whoop and charge, swinging his instrument wildly. Surely this gang of men who would dare practice at moderate volume at 7:00 p.m. at night could be capable of tremendous violence.

Using his best Intimidation Voice(tm), the first officer on the scene intoned, “Yew awl, kain’t be mekkin’ all thet ruckus.” Frightened by this display of verbal ability, Eddy nearly dropped his truss and I had to lean a little more forcefully on my walker.

Showing an incredible lack of common sense, our ringleader whined “But it’s only seven o’clock!” You could have heard a hernia pull in the thick silence that immediately followed. The three officers drew closer together, ostensibly to perform a British Square maneuver for their own safety, as officer one informed us of “The Law”.

“We gots us a complaint, and thet’s good enuff fer me to shut yer smart ass down BOY!” Apparently, interpretation of city ordinances depending on your mood at the time is a required class at the Police Academy and Oratory College(tm).

Sensing a Tazing(tm) our nefarious ringleader retreated as the rest of us mentally evaluated the odds of eating jail food for dinner. Officer one, now fully confident in his mastery of the situation, continued to read us the P.O.P.A.D. law.* while his brethren made careful mental notes concerning tear gas canister trajectories and elbow room for a good baton swing. You can never be too confident when dealing with middle age musicians. We are known for such scofflaw activities as drinking tequila right from the barmaids brassiere and staying up to watch “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” on the late show. Or more accurately, falling asleep watching it because it is way past our bedtime. In short, we are a dangerous, reckless breed.

Eventually they put the S.W.A.T. team back on standby and departed to their respective cruisers. Each left idling for the entire harangue incidentally. The sound of tax dollars burning emanating from their exhausts. No doubt they were eager to get back to the station house so they could regale their fellows (unlucky enough to be left out of the action) with their tales of individual heroics.

It was a tense confrontation and I for one am glad that my tax dollars are spent in control of old men with guitars. Even so, you cannot keep the anarchist spirit of Rock and Roll(tm) down. The first thing we did after the cruiser lights had vanished into the distance was play “I Fought The Law” at approximately the same volume as a drinking fountain. We may be rebels, but we are not stupid.

*Pissing Off Police After Dark