‘Fashion profiling’ on the streets of New London?

PJ's and the PD

Dave Spinelli

Apparently drug dealers wear their pajamas to do business on the streets of New London, Connecticut. I learned this fact firsthand on the first of the New Year.

I was driving home at about 8 p.m. on January 1, 2008. Making the turn from Tilley St. on to Bank St., I noticed two police cruisers in the parking lots of the gas station and Grampy’s (like there often are) both with their red and blue “I’m here” lights on. It’s a common sight on that corner. As I passed the NL Historical Society Shaw Mansion I saw a friend of mine walking down the sidewalk. I hadn’t seen this friend in a couple days and I had been wanting to ask him for some help with a little fieldtrip I wanted to take. So I quickly pulled over to talk to him.

He came over to the car and we chatted a little and I explain I had some things I had been meaning to ask him about and also how I was planning on going to the Brass Rail in about an hour to see a couple bands play there. He was interested in hearing the bands, too, so I said, “hop in!” so we could go together. So, he hopped in the car and we took off. The next thing I know, one of the cruisers has pulled out and is tailgating me as I drive down Bank St. Huh. Strange. Did he think he was invisible there in the parking lot of Grampy’s? Maybe he wasn’t aware his cloaking device is busted. Did he really think I would pull over and buy drugs right in front of 2 parked cruisers? Oh well. If you want to follow me, be my guest, I thought to myself.

I went straight through the first couple lights and then made a left on to Ocean Ave. The next thing I know, I’m getting pulled over just beyond the China House on Ocean Ave. I’m getting pulled over! Wow. I’ve been pulled over only 3 times in my life and I’ve never gotten a ticket. Parking tickets have been the only blemishes on my motor vehicle record, and those, few and far between, strewn across many states.

“License, registration and insurance, Please.” I dig out the documents. “I pulled you over because you went straight through a Left-Turn-Only lane.” (the lane for turning left on to Montauk Ave.) “Oh, ok,” I said. Hmm, I thought. But he had done the same exact thing. Was it illegal for me to do that, but not him? Strange. Maybe he was intending to turn left on to Montauk and when he saw me going straight he followed me to pull me over! Right! That’s what it was, I’m sure.

“Have you had anything to drink tonight?” he asked. “Nope,” I said. “I see you have all these empty beer bottles in your backseat,” he said. “I recycle,” I said. He nodded and went back to his cruiser. Then another cruiser pulls up with its lights flashing and now I’m at the center of a full-on narcotics investigation (or maybe they were looking for subversive literature under the guise of vice squad action) on the side of Ocean Ave. just a few blocks from where I live. I wonder how many of these people driving by know me. Great. Yeah, Happy fucking New Year, Dave.

Then a different officer came over to the driver’s side window. He clicked on his giant maglight flashlight and shined it across on to my friend’s plaid pants. “Whattaya wearin’ your pajamas or somethin’?” he asked with a gleeful smirk. “Nah man,” my friend replied. “Those sure look like pajamas!” the officer said. “Nah, these aren’t pajamas,” my friend said nervously trying to be truthful and polite.

“Would you please unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the vehicle?” the officer asked. “Sure,” I said, knowing that noncooperation would most likely lead to a moving violation. So, trying to be calm, I nervously get out and walk over to the front of my car. After answering the basic boring questions like, where are you going?, how long have you known each other?, the officer asked, “Do you mind if I pat you down and see what’s in your pockets?” “Nah, go ahead,” I said. So there I was, with a total stranger putting his hands in my pockets as we stood in the headlights of my own car on the side of Ocean Ave. Wow. This is an experience to remember, I thought to myself. Too bad I didn’t have my camera. He wasn’t impressed with my Chapstick and cell phone.

“You gotta admit it looked a little strange, this guy out wearing his pajamas on the street, and you all of a sudden pulling over and picking him up,” the officer said. “I mean, why is this guy out wearin’ his pajamas?” he asked. “Those aren’t pajamas,” I replied. He flashed his giant Maglight on my horribly average looking jeans. “I don’t see you or any normal person wearing clothes like that out on the street!” he said with an air of authority. “Is there a question you want me to answer?” I asked. He looked away and apparently that was the end of the curbside interrogation. [Maybe this fine officer secretly wants everyone to dress like him. This is pure speculation on my part. But, I mean, I can totally understand. I want everyone to dress like me too. But I haven’t felt the need to bully people about it yet. But I digress…]

A question loomed in my mind: even if they were pajamas, since when is it illegal to wear your pajamas out in public? But I didn’t want to embarrass the officer by putting him on the spot with this question and I knew it wouldn’t help my cause. And I thought, is this harassment? If so, what kind? Fashion harassment? Is fashion harassment by a police officer against the law? If a person feels they’re being harassed by a police officer, what immediate action can they take? What recourse do they have? I wanted to ask these questions, but again, I knew this wouldn’t help my cause and wouldn’t expedite my return to freedom.

“Do you mind of we take a look inside the vehicle?” he asked. “No, go ahead,” I replied. “We have your permission to search the vehicle?” he asked again. Who knows how long I’d be detained if I chose to exercise my full rights? I chose cowardly acquiescence. “Sure,” I said. Two police officers performed what appeared to be (from my very unprofessional opinion) a very hasty and haphazard search of my car. Less than 5 minutes later, “I hope we didn’t take up too much of your time tonight,” the officer said. “You can get back in your car so you don’t freeze to death,” the officer said. I got back in my car to warm up. “Just be sure to be more careful driving through that intersection next time,” the original officer said. “Ok.” Within seconds, they were gone.

Not a call to arms, but rather a call to pajamas

To my fellow countrymen and countrywomen, all good citizens and all bad citizens too, I beseech you in the name of civil liberties and plaid, to join me in wearing pajamas to the Hygienic Weekend events on January 26th. Don your jammies with pride. Parade them in public as a symbol of your freedom, tolerance and sense of good fun. I will be boldly and proudly wearing my blue plaid pajamas to the Hygienic Cabaret and I hope you will too.