STORY: Respect My Authorita

Yup, I wish I could say I got sick all of the sudden, but the fact of matter is I’ve been under the weather for weeks—since I got back Russia actually—and hadn’t really been taking care of myself. But when my fever reached a staggering 104 on Tuesday of last week, I knew it was time to call in the experts. Turns out I had Strep Throat. Sexy, huh?

Anyway, after spending close to a week in bed, and a few days before that feeling bad for myself in light of recent events, I realized it was time to get back on track. The first order of business: Getting a job.


It felt good to be back on my feet. And the world seemed happy to have me…

(after taking this picture, I looked at the little screen on the back of my camera and noticed homeboy in the background. I turned around just in time to spot him on the corner, throwing me the old ‘double-gun cool-guy salute.’ How cool is that?)




Back to the mission… I’d be lying if said I didn’t have any leads.




It seems several months ago I applied to be a cop. Of course, I’d totally forgotten about it, so it seemed like fate when, the very day before the test, this slip showed-up in the mail.




But as I documented what would surely be my last day as a civilian I noticed something…




A sharpened No. 2 pencil? Fuck.




(Look, this is my thoughtful face…) I’m halfway to the test center, middle of Chinatown, where am I going to get a pencil?




Oh right, Chinatown—I love it when a plan comes together.




Yeah, what can I say, I’m probably be the only cop-hopeful with a Hello Kitty pencil, eraser and sharpener kit, but I’m probably also the only one who’s name is actually “Jake” so I figure it balances out.




Ready or not…




At this point, things got a little funny, but not funny ha-ha. Turns out most of the people wanting to be New York’s Finest… well, lets just day they’re not ALL that fine.



I held myself back from taking pictures inside the testing area, but let me put it this way—no one was making whacky sound effects with their mouth, or playing tricks on the commandant. None of it. It seems I’d been lied to.



I’m not saying I was feeling good enough to climb a rope, or jump a hurdle, but I was kind of looking forward to it nonetheless. In fact, what went on inside was more like a bizzaro SAT. I guess the physical-bit, the part I was most excited for, comes next—nine months after the written test—and that’s assuming I passed.

Regardless, after close to three hours spent answering questions about felonies, periodicals, procedures and practices—not to mention being finger printed myself—I was starting to feel somewhat cop-like myself.




I mean, I’ve always been courteous, professional and respectful… but suddenly I felt like I carried more authority… like I should put on the nude-suit and a cape, stand on a rooftop and put local hooligans on notice…




Ah, who am I kidding, it’s just these new sunglasses I picked up along with the pencils. Got a deal too. Chinatown rocks.



On a more serious note though, though it’s defiantly worth considering, I’m not sure that coppery is what I’m destined for. I’ve already got some ideas for a few different career paths that might be worth pursuing (can anyone say ‘model greaser’), but I’m keeping my options open. Do you do something interesting, fun, or weird? Maybe I could hang out for a day, see if it interests me. Really. Drop me a line. I’ll be like your understudy. It’ll be fun. Thanks.