Beverly Hills Cops… or Hollywood High, you decide…
Before Big Brother my main source of income, I grew pot for about a decade. This was long before weed was legal in California & even before medical marijuana was legal. I was very low profile… Had about 150 to 200 plants growing in my garage. My house was under the landing pattern for Long Beach airport, so I didn’t need to worry about any police helicopters or shit like that, it was restricted airspace.
I know everyone likes to brag, but truth was, I had some of the best pot in LA at that time. It was always gone a day or 2 after harvest.
After the divorce of my 10 year marriage I moved my life, not where I lived, but where I hung out, to Hollywood from Orange County where me and my X worked in clubs forever. I didn’t want to answer a thousand times to a thousand people, “Where’s Janine?”, “Who broke up with who?” “Why did you guys break up, you seemed so happy” all that shit, I was pretty broken up about it and didn’t want to talk about it with people I hardly knew anyhow… So, I never went to another bar or club in Orange County, just Hollywood from then on.
It’s not like I never went and hung in Hollywood, but not a whole lot. When I started going I ran into a bunch of people that used to come into the clubs I ran in Orange County & they’d introduce me to more people… and so on, and so on…
So whenever I’d head up to Hollywood I’d bring 3-4 big, fat ass joints with me and a couple of buds for a bartender and get free drinks all night. The clubs in Hollywood never cared if you smoked pot in the clubs, unlike in the OC. So I’d go see a band, spark up a fat one and make more friends, lol. You always make friends when you’re smoking dope. I’d meet Rock Stars, get them high and they became customers. I became friends with a bunch of Rock Stars & Rap Stars and they would introduce me to more Rock & Rap Stars. It got to the point that I used to say I was one degree of separation from just about anyone in music, if I didn’t personally know them, I knew someone that did. Life was crazy and fun.
I met one of the guys from Korn one night at the Purple Lounge inside the Standard Hotel on Sunset Blvd. one night. I was there with my buddy DJ Ashba, who later played in G N’ R and plays with Nikki Sixx now in Sixx AM. We’re hanging out and he leans over and says “I think that’s the drummer for Korn” I said, oh good I have a friend that’s been wanting to introduce me to him for a long time. So I go over and say, we have a good friend in common… He looks at me like I am completely full of shit, leans back, crosses his arms and says, yeah who? I say, my best friends wife, Cora. He looks at me, sits forward and says, you mean the girl with the best pot in LA? I said, where do you think she gets it? He sits back again and goes, bullshit… So I take a fat joint from behind my ear and throw it at him, he smells it and goes, Holy shit, sit down! We introduced ourselves, he introduced me to this guy Nick who was the co-creator of DSL, a billionaire and we hung out, got high, had some drinks and had a great time. Closing time comes around and he invites me to join them in Nick’s helicopter to do nitrous hits… Fucking unreal night, flying through the buildings of downtown LA, up to Big Bear to refuel and back.
You have a joint, you have friends, lol…
Anyhow, onto the point of the story.
One night I am driving up to Hollywood and for some reason I decided to go through Beverly Hills instead of my regular route. I’m thinking it was either gay pride day or close to Halloween, where surface streets my normal way would have been bumper to bumper traffic. So I’m driving along, top off my Corvette and had just lit a fat joint. I’m toking away when I get to a red light and up next to me pulls this SUV, I look over and 2 cops are looking down at me as I take a big toke, DOH…. I was soooo busted.
They get behind me and flash their lights. Oh fuck, where can I hide these, I asked myself. I had 3-4 joints in my cigarette pack and the one in my hand. I put that one out and stuffed it in my boot. I took the cigarette pack and squashed it between the seat cushion and the outter bottom plastic part of the seat that the cushion sat in… and pulled over.
Cop walks up to the driver side, License & Registration please… I took my license out of my wallet and registration out of my glove box and handed it to him without saying a word. Sir, can I ask you to step out of the car? So, I got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk in front of them, again without saying a word. Then both of them start firing a bunch of questions at me at the same time… Are those jail tattoos? Where’s the joint you were smoking? Do you have any track marks? I didn’t say shit.
Then one of them says, ARE YOU DEAF, WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING US? I looked at him and said, I feel like my Grandmother just caught me jerking off, so busted… They looked at each other and both started busting up laughing and were very cool from that point on.
I answered their questions… No, they don’t do color tattoos in jail, I thought you’d know that. No, I don’t have track marks, look… I’ve never used heroin. They asked again where the joint I was smoking was, I told them, with due respect, that I could not answer or admit to anything that might be against the law. One said, “We have the right to search your car” I said I know and to go ahead. The other one patted me down and didn’t find anything. After about 5 minutes of searching my car the other cop says, “I know it’s in here I can smell it, just tell me where it is and we can go on our way.” I again said I wasn’t going to admit to anything, but search all you like. He started talking about giving up when he found the cigarette pack, dammit…
He brings the pack over to a coin operated newspaper stand (remember those?) and pulls out my cigarettes and the rolled joints I had in there. The other cop says, “Holy shit, look at the size of those. Are you Cheech or Chong?” We all 3 start laughing. He says, “Damn man, I can smell that from here, ten feet away. Is that some Indica?” I started laughing really hard and asked him when the last time he smoked pot was, in the 70’s? Again, all 3 of us were laughing. His partner said, “No, that’s that chronic. That’s the good stuff!” I said, “Your damn right” and laughed.
They gave me back my cigarettes, but took the joints and the cigarette pack, saying they had to take whatever container they found any drugs in. Weird, but whatever.
They wrote me a ticket and sent me on my way. I still had the joint in my boot and the buds they didn’t find in my pocket, so about 5 min later, I pulled the joint out of my boot and fired it up on my way to Hollywood, lol.
Fast forward a month an a half or so later to my court date in Beverly Hills….
I walk into the nicest courthouse I have ever been in in my life. This is what I envision the Supreme Court to look like or something. It was crazy nice. All marble, carved wood, beautiful artwork. I just kept looking around and saying “Holy Shit, this is nice” to myself.
I find my courtroom, again absolutely beautiful in every way. There’s only 2 cases on this courtroom’s docket that morning, I was second up. I’m watching the first guy and notice it was bring your daughter to work day, I shit you not… I can’t make this shit up people. So the District Attorney AND the judge both had their daughters with them that day. The judge finishes the first case and calls me up.
There are 2 tables in front of the judge, the DA is at one, so I go to the other. You know what I am talking about, we have all seen courtroom tv shows or seen it in the movies etc.. The judge addresses the DA and the DA says that he would be willing to drop the case if I go to a drug diversion program, they both look over at me for an answer. I start laughing… I look at the judge and say, I was busted with 3 joints. In the state of California, thank to my parents and all the hippies in California in the 70’s, I know that the maximum fine by law in the state of California for under an ounce of marijuana is maximum $100 fine. I look at the DA and say that a drug diversion program is at least $1,000 and a bunch of my time, so no, I decline that offer, I’ll go to trial. The judge looks at the DA and chuckles a bit and says to him, “Well, he’s right about everything he said Jim.” I look at both of them and say, “How about a $50 fine, or we can waste the state’s time and money on a trial.” I wasn’t being an asshole, just matter of fact… no disrespect at all. The DA looks at me and says “Oh, ummm, I don’t think…” The judge asks if we would like to step into the hallway to discuss it, then come back in. I said, no.. I look at the DA and tell him “$75, that’s my final offer.” He shuffles some papers, looks at me and says, “That’s fine.”
So, I ended up paying like $250 or so with all the fees and court costs and bullshit tacked on, but got a good laugh out of the whole thing.
Moral of the story is, Always remember, cops don’t always drive in cop cars, sometimes the drive SUV’s so pay better attention when driving with the top off of your car.