CHAPTER 2
(Meeting my very first convicted BillyBigRigger)
I liked being a high school graduate but I DEFINITELY didn't feel intellectually superior to all the other inmates forced to take GED classes as the prison mandated if they didn't have their sheepskin. After repeating my senior year of high school with a class ranking of 243/247 I knew deep in my heart the only reason I graduated was because my Pop Pop insisted upon it and I think Garden Spot High School took a shining to my decent attendance record which would subsequently bode well for an employer strict with punctuality. But another view of looking at another possible contributing factor for my success?
My torch had been stolen by one of my peers on my baseball team going through some difficulties in life (He is currently doing quite well and wrote a 5 star book titled "Unchained") and stole that torch I was so proud of ever since a dude in middle school nicknamed me "mad bomber" for my firecracker prank in 8th grade. And the name of that torch that I believed belonged to me? Why the class clown of course. Somehow Garden Spot eventually figured out that threatening me with in-
school suspension and detention for my capers would never really work on a guy like me. It only encouraged more unruly behavior out of me as these punishments were nothing more than a vacation for me as I had the Medusa Pants wearing type of mommy that still to this day is a stay at home mother. I got real quiet around 11th grade when the principal started throwing some lofty numbers at me because they had to hire an electrician to re-wire the ENTIRE coded system for the intercom as me and a few other funny guys I gave the code to were doing a fantastic job of interrupting the school environment. Fortunately for me we were still living in times where a firm handshake held as much weight as a signed written contract. Possibly even more because morales and character still existed back then. I could still hear not one but BOTH principals grousing at me.
"Blake we had to hire an electrician to re-wire each and every phone in the classrooms. Do you have any idea how expensive that is? It can lead to a serious offense for substantially disrupting the learning environment. Where did you get the code for the intercom system?"
"Wait you're saying I have to pay for it?" Both the vice and head principal nodded.
I pondered for a minute. Why would I tell them where I got the code if I was ALREADY in trouble?
And that's when one of the principals goofed. I was stupid yes but could conjure up a grandiose poker face at any given moment. Between the ages of 13-16 I had racked up 7 grand theft auto charges and had numerous encounters with law enforcement to learn when to shut up. What's really amusing is my partner in crime concerning all these stolen vehicles and vandalism charges is a noteworthy police officer still doing the more grisly work of keeping the badlands in check. He beat all odds somehow when a police officer told him he would be cleaning sewers the rest of his life. I can't think how many times I used to crawl up on his roof and encourage him to chase around the bad girls and tear up the neighborhoods. We never got into drugs but we sure made life interesting for all those cocky jocks that made attempts to belittle the poor harmless lunch ladies. I'll never forget giggling the one day when the poor harmless lunch lady mustered up the strength to counter cocky Eddy's belittling innuendo. With little Eddy enlisted in ALL the sports you can bet your bottom dollar he wasn't washing dishes for seven hours after school like the rest of us not fortunate enough to land on our parents car insurance. Ole “Momma” put lil Eddy right in his place when he was getting too cocky one day.
"Did ya get a job yet Eddy?"
She countered. She peeped over at me knowing I would find it funny. I was already paying rent to my sister that my dad evicted before she even turned 18. I was doing big boy things like learning oil changes and dropping quarters into washing machines at laundry mats while Future Officer Steidler (my lil brother) was spending his time with the dorky crowd that hung out at coffee shops and took notes at church. Who takes notes at church?
Both the head and vice principals crossed their arms and looked at each other. I wasn't so much as hemming or hawing. Back in those days you could still exercise the 5th without ANY repercussions whatsoever. I didn't so much as say a word.
The vice principal prodded. He majorly goofed up the situation even more giving me more leverage to play them like fiddles.
"Blake aside from the electrician bill we're mostly interested in where you got that code for the intercom. We really need to know."
The vice principal continued.
"Did one of our school teachers give you that code?"
I was no sucker (at least back then anyways). Funny little voices interspersed through my membrane and I don't think the principals knew the full extent to all of my uncontrollable nervous ticks from my frequently diagnosed Schizo-Affective disorder. I get these uncontrollable inappropriate smiles portraying me of harboring some very profound secrets when really I don't know Jack shit. These comical voices in my head that taunt me can have me giggling at some very inappropriate times where it is virtually impossible to have my thoughts match my facial expressions. I said not a word but my face was showing I knew quite a lot.
The vice principal looked over at Don. "He knows something Donny. He definitely knows something."
I couldn't get the big sheepish grin to elude my face. These guys sure didn't spend much time at the poker table or I was evidently one heck of a good bluffer without even trying.
Don took over. "Are you gonna tell us where you got the code?"
And that sealed the coup de grace right then and there. Don didn't word it the second time as "who" but "where" which gave me the leverage I needed.
I finally spoke. "If I tell you where I got the code will you promise not to press charges for the substantial disruption?"
A little hemming and hawing between the both of them but eventually a reply.
"I suppose we could agree to that. Sure."
I was one for three so far and weighing my options. I wanted more from the deal but didn't want to blow it entirely. I could clearly tell they seriously wanted to fire a teacher for giving me the code to the entire school intercom system. And they wanted it pretty badly! They still had three hours of detention and the wiring costs they were trying to pin on me. The detention part could sting a little now that I had my own truck and could hide from mommy sitting at home clipping coupons. Possibly plotting how to coerce me to clean my room when I could be hanging at Jimmy's house watching Beavis and Butthead.
However, I knew that I'd be washing dishes at the smorgasbord for weeks before I'd have enough money to pay the wiring bill. It was time to get more from the deal but not get too crazy. Don seemed a little smarter so I shifted my gaze towards the vice principal instead. I was super cautious to watch my wording so I could sucker these old guys. I still had my big crocodile smile like I had a lot of dirt on a school teacher. These guys were such suckers. I definitely had them convinced I had something juicy. The gym teacher? The Science teacher? The music teacher?
These guys were really hoping to nail somebody.
I got the charges out of the picture but wanted more. I had given that code to quite a few other pranksters and some of those interrupting jokes were just flat out funny. One of them was about a circulating rumor going around about a lonely guy at home getting frisky with an apple. And when Jesse got on the horn and announced that there was a big hairy Yoni waiting for Noah in the classroom how could anyone ever let that one go?
I braced myself and regained my composure as I leaned back in my seat. I wanted to ride this out a little because the chairs in the principal's office were a lot more comfy than the crappy wooden desks we had waiting for us back in the classroom. I think Don eventually made choir like hand motions to get on with the show as I was clearly testing their patience. I had to hurry before offers would become rescinded but I just wanted to squeeze a little more out of these fellas. I had to keep pretending I knew something big.
"I can't possibly afford to pay the electrician bill on a dishwashers income. Any chance we could knock off the electrician bill too? I'll still do the three hours of detention."
Shoulders got shrugged as they looked at each other. I could tell they were determined to figure out which teacher it was at all possible costs. I was going to skate away on this one. I'd only be at a $21.00 loss serving three hours of detention when I could be washing dishes after school and frying chicken.
Another head scratch and I think it was Don that finally spoke. "Okay Blake I suppose we could agree to that. We're still gonna get that detention out of ya though."
"Okay Deal." I said as I shook hands with both of them.
AND NOW COMES THE FUNNY PART.
It was all I could do to stifle even some of my giggles. These guys were ready for me to release the name of the big fish. The REALLY big fish. Except there was one OTHER REALLY BIG PROBLEM. There was NO BIG FISH TO RELEASE!!
Just watching their facial expressions was priceless. No teacher would ever jeopardize their career by giving that code. This moment was as priceless as when a police officer was HIGHLY convinced a member of a church youth group told me where I could find a spare key to one of the cars I stole for a joyride.
I finally spit it all out.
"I found the code on a piece of paper I found buried in a classroom closet. There never was a school teacher that gave me that code. You clearly stated "where" that code came from not "who".
I hadn't even let completely go of the handshake but it definitely went limp when they realized they were still stuck with the bill. Handshakes were good as contracts back then plus I had a witness. But the REAL funny part about this story? I technically wasn't supposed to be eligible for graduation until I completed those three hours of detention. Somehow the staff had inadvertently forgotten about it and it's too late because my diploma is already signed. I'm sure the karma will follow me one day and those trucking companies will not only steal back those three hours of detention but a whole lot more!!!
As I sat in the A.C.E trucking class at Allenwood Federal University I couldn't help but crack jokes to myself noticing that my Federally convicted trucking instructor had no choice but to keep that long red hair of his. It was much needed to cover up that goofy bald spot. Even with his long hair pulled over it you could tell he was just short trying to cover it up completely. I would describe him as a red blooded very brazen Caucasian male inching his way up to 40. I didn't know his federal conviction but he definitely wasn't a pedophile by the way he carried himself. In fact he struck me as quite the opposite. He was a politicker for sure with his deep baritone voice and his Harley biker like gesticulations. The typical kind not afraid to sit up at the front section of the bar and pretend like he knew everybody despite only being there for the very first time. I didn't know what incentive he got for teaching a bunch of federally convicted inmates some pointers on being a successful trucker but I noticed he accentuated the 4/32" mandated front tire measurements and after he used the word "imperative" like 40 times I finally learned a new word. It was so common for inmates to flaunt new words that they were learning from their attorney visits when in reality we were all dumber than hell just for being locked up. But fortunately there WAS some incentive for being a high school dropout from what I was hearing. I met a tall lanky sharp looking fellow that swore up and down the government discriminated and roofed his ass primarily because they knew of his college credentials and they felt he should know better for his white collar crime.
I don't recall the name of our trucking instructor teaching us in our A.C.E class but he was also sure to give us some pointers of the hardships we would encounter trying to sell our cute little federal story to a potential employer. I couldn't help but noticed he continued to mention "she" a lot and never once mentioned the word "he" as if it would pan out that the "she" would ultimately be that unwanted killjoy giggling at the paperwork and putting us on a greyhound bus home. I was also noticing that my long haired trucker friend made a point of staring at me more than the other students. This struck me as rather unusual due to the simple fact that I am very used to being ignored. But with all his staring it almost seemed like he was trying to communicate with me telepathically. "You see Blakey. I'm not even wasting my time with eye contact with any of these Jabrony Ponies wasting my time in here. They are all here for a cute certificate to show to the judge. Are you witnessing this Blakey? Over half of these dudes never even had a driver's license or a car."
I'm sure he was impressed that there I was sitting in a federal prison and taking notes while doing years for a crime I chose at the last minute not to pursue while at the same time my lil brother might be sitting at a church taking HIS notes about the rewards he might receive in heaven for keeping his winky Doo- da in his pants until marriage. I made sure to include in the notes I wrote on my yellow legal paper about when hauling fruit try to look for loads that are still green so they're not completely rotten by the time they reach their destination. I was still in my early twenties so the whole BillyBigRigging thing seemed like a very VIP job as I had a father that spent nearly all of his working life sanding wood. In fact, my case worker Mr.Thomas was sure to throw in some jokes after he needed some information for some paperwork he was filling out.
Mr.Thomas always had something funny to say but that was because we lined up in alphabetical order via our last names and the trucker named Ray always left Mr.Thomas teary eyed with his humorous stories. I was learning quickly that the trucking life definitely required thick skin. If you couldn't handle those insults and barbs just walk away from a trucking career. I could still hear my case worker's words reverberate in the back of my mind.
"So I have to ask you. Was your father ever in the military?"
"No he sands wood. They tried many times to promote him but he insists on sanding wood."
Mr.Thomas was still in a playful mood. And that was all because of the inmate he had just seen before me. Ray S. Can't recall his last name. But he too spent his life a trucker and now his CDL was in jeopardy because of his divorce not going so well. (That's a whole long story but every inmate giggled about Ray's illegal methods for making sure NOBODY gets the house).
Mr.Thomas just chuckled.
"He does what?"
I figured since Ray always left him in a giggly mood I may as well play along with some additional humor. I made wood sanding gestures and some official sanding noises for good measure.
I smiled. "Zzzzzzzz You know he sands wood at the wood shop he's worked at for the past twenty years."
My wood sanding demonstration may have looked humorous but Mr. Thomas turned the table on me and threw me into the picture as well.
"Heh-heh.” Said Mr. Thomas,”I see the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."
His comment wiped the smirk off my face. I guess I shouldn't have teased my father's occupation because now this funny man was insinuating my chances of becoming an astronaut or a General of some Army were pretty slim. As funny as Mr. Thomas always was I wouldn't describe his apples falling from trees comment very encouraging. I was going to do more than stand in one place all day sanding a piece of wood. I was going to become a trucker!