Spring Break in… Jail.

Spring Break in Jail.

“What have I done?”, sobbed the 18 yeast old Scott Truman. “Why were those cops so mean?”

“Broheim, I dunno,” spoke the 18 year old Mike Thurston, “but my parents are going to kill me! My dad told me he was so disappointed in me and that he was cutting my monthly allowance in half!”

“Mine too,” Scott said as they sat together at a hard steel table in front of a small tv, with their heads in their hands surrounded by thirty other teens in the Orange Beach Jail.

“But I thought you could drink on the beach though,” Mike stated.

“And we weren’t even doing anything wrong!”, Scott responded,” All we did was have two beers-”

“Out of all the cases we bought-” Mike interjected.

“Yeah, out of the ten cases we bought we had two drinks-“, Scott continued

“One for me and one for you-”

“Yeah and that cop came at us like-”

“Like he was going to fight us!”

“Yeah and we did everything they asked us! Why did we get arrested! This is SPRING BREAK! We are allowed to drink on whatever beach we please! This is AMERICA! And I pay my taxes!”

“Yeah me too! This is straight up unconstitutional!!! And police brutality!”

“Yeah! YEAH! THIS IS-”

“Hey quiet down now!” The jailer said as he opened the cell door, peering in to spy the disturbance. “You two, what seems to be the problem.”

“Well, for starters, why were we imprisoned? I mean we didn’t do anything wrong!” Scott said from the table.

“What were you charged with?” The jailer asked with raised eyebrows.

“We got minors in possession of alcohol but we didn’t even have any!”, Mike said.

“Well,” Scott included,” I might’ve had a beer.”

“Yeah, like one beer, but we were still good. So, why were we arrested officer?”

“Hm. Let me check on that. I’ll be right back.” The Jailer disappeared behind the slamming jail door.

“See, even the PoPo thinks we are innocent!” Mike indicates.

“Hopefully he can get us out of here because this sucks, dude!” Scott said

“Yeah, and it’s freezing in here!”

“So…” The jailer replied shifting back into the cell, in-between the hallway and cell, looking at a file he was holding in his hands. “This says that you, both, are 18 years old.”

After a moment of silence. “So, why are we here, then?” Mike asked.

The Jailer laughed. “The drinking age anywhere in America is 21 years of age.

“Not on spring break!” Mike insisted. “And definitely not on the beach!”

“Actually especially on spring break,” the Jailer corrected, ” And especially on the beach.”

“When has it ever been illegal to drink on the beach?” The dumbfounded Scott asked. “It sounds like you have the wrong information, and let me tell you once my family lawyer finds out-”

“Yeah, his dad’s a lawyer!” Mike stated.

“Yeah he is, and when he finds out you lied to me, well then you won’t have a job tomorrow.”

“Your dads a lawyer?”, The jailer asked.

“That’s right.” Scott gloated.

“Then he should’ve told you that drinking on the beach has been illegal for many years now, especially on spring break, and especially if you’re under the legal drinking age.” The Jailer said as the door shut behind him.

The teens cried, and passed out holding onto each other on hard concrete beds, waking up some hours later to the call of, “Truman, Thurston time to go home. Your Bail has been posted.”

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