JUST DOING MY JOB

A few years back, when I regularly made trips to Manhattan, Chuck McCormick and I were at a party. It was some sort of artsy thing for Vice mag. downtown offices. The place was packed, so Chuck and I grabbed a beer and went outside. We found an empty stoop, sat down and settled in to enjoy the scene. I had a little eye medicine on me. We lit the delivery system and began to enjoy the scene even more. Then, as we passed the good medicine back and forth, I noticed a big black SUV pull up with men in the front and back seats. They looked a little somber to be attending the party. Their heads turned in unison and locked onto Chuck and I. When the front door opened, and I spotted a gun and badge on the driver's side, I popped what was less of the delivery system into my mouth and swallowed.
   Before we knew what was happening there was a grey haired NYPD detective standing over us wagging his finger and lecturing us as to the quality of life hazard we were engaged in. As the party continued unabated, open containers everywhere, this mature officer had zeroed in on us two old timers enjoying a quiet smoke on the street. In typical McCormick ass kissing fashion Chuck bowed to the Dt. in "we are not worthy" supplication. I made no such apologies. I looked the cop in the eye and informed him of the "world famous" art critic status of Chuck and of my own standing (albiet obscure) as a working artist. "Excuse me sir. But we are just doing our jobs. I respect your job to fight crime.....but it is our job to attend these things, have a drink and grab a smoke when we can. It's expected of us" The cop countered with "You two are old enough to know better." I disagreed. The younger officers remained in the SUV, hands on their guns, obviously disappointed that their fearless leader hadn't given them the green light to kick our old asses.
    Then something happened that I never would have expected. A smile crept across the detective's face. I  took the cue. "You look a little old to be doing stop and frisks also." I offered with my own smile. He agreed. Chuck stopped bowing. I half expected the cop to join us for a beer. The younger cops were crest fallen. There would be no ass kicking. Within minutes we were exchanging business cards with the Dt. and promising to check out his young wife's website. She had just started an interior design company on Long Island. Pleasant good-byes all around and the SUV pulled away without disturbing the party goers, leaving Chuck and I to torch another, and resume our cocktail hour unimpeded.

Occupational hazards are everywhere. I'm sure I've breathed enough asbestos over the years to insulate a small house. Being poor, drinking and smoking too much, not eating well, staying up late, all take it's toll. Recently, after spending the month of May crawling though high grass, hunting turkeys, I woke up with Lyme disease (again!). A script for antibiotics and I'm good to go. Like I said, this little episode with the detective was a few years back. NYC has changed a lot in those years. Ray Kelley's Stop and Frisk police policy has run rampant, targeting young men of color. The lucky ones are arrested. The unlucky ones are killed. These days Chuck and I would probably find ourselves face down on the street, handcuffed and humiliated for our digressions. But before you muzzle me, let me just say officer- "I'm just doing my job. I plead insanity."