Angie’s Turbulent Teens ~ The Handcuff Story

I guess people were a little disappointed that I wasn’t handcuffed when I was arrested for Grand Theft. I’m joking. I did mention in that post that I had been handcuffed by the police when I was fifteen (I might have been sixteen). This is that story.

It starts with a donut shop. Kind of cliche for the police to be at a donut shop, but it’s really not in this case. The planned community my parents moved us to had a bunch of sub-divisions named Villa This and Villa That and Villa The Other Thing. We had two strip malls, two roads in and unless you had a car, not many options for things to do. A lot of the Villas had a central park with a swimming pool, maybe a playground or tennis courts. Sometimes people would hang out at the parks, usually at night.

If you wanted to find people you could call them at home or you could walk to a few of the regular gathering spots. One of these spots was the donut shop. The owners and employees didn’t care if you sat there and didn’t order anything. It had a cigarette machine so you could buy overpriced smokes without getting carded, it was near the street in the strip mall and had big windows so you could see people coming and going.


One afternoon I walked up to the donut shop. I was bored and none of my friends were home. I parked my butt at a table and looked out the windows, waiting… I spent many hours, over many years, sitting in that donut shop waiting. Anyway, I don’t know how long I was there this time, but eventually a guy I knew and was sorta dating came in. (By sorta dating I mean we had hung out and had sex a couple times) He sat down opposite me at the table and we started talking. Maybe I was supposed to meet him there, I don’t remember. We were there for a little while when a police car pulled up.

We both looked out the window to see if the officer was going to get out, and which one it was. There were two officers that we, the local teens, had regular contact with. One was pretty cool. He’d stop and talk to us, mention he’d heard so-and-so was having a kegger on whatever night, tell us he’d be by at 11:00pm to shut it down, stay out of trouble… He was cool. I can’t remember his name, but I remember what we called the other officer. We called him Little Hitler, and he was not cool.

So we watched to see if we were going to get hassled or not. Little Hitler would chase us off even though the donut store people didn’t care if we were there. It was the cool one. He came in, got his free coffee (some cliches are true) and sat down to talk to us.

The three of us are joking around and they were teasing me so I jokingly said I was gonna leave. The guy I’m sorta dating tells the police officer to cuff me to the table so I can’t leave, and grabs my wrist. The officer grabs his cuffs, puts one end around the pole under the table and the other end around my wrist. I know this seems awful, but it wasn’t. We were all laughing and playing around and I could have pulled my hand away at any time. I was definitely an active participant in the handcuffing. They both stood up like they were going to leave me there, cuffed to the table. More joking, more teasing, more laughing.

Fun and joking aside, the officer had a job to do, so he uncuffed me and went out to his car and left. I don’t remember what the guy and I did. So, that’s the story of me being handcuffed.

Which story would you like next? Here’s the list again if you’ve forgotten the options.


(Photo from pexels )