San Diego police are the vultures of Mission Beach

Recruitment week for the fraternities came full circle last Friday, culminating in the much anticipated “bid night.” Spirits were high as fresh faces from abroad returned back from their pilgrimages to reunite with Mission Beach. Admittedly, as a “frat bro” I felt a buzz of excitement about my person, comparable to that of Courtney Love en route to an opium den.
As the evening wore on, the participants of Friday night’s events gathered at different locations along the beach. Like most college gatherings, alcohol consumption was to be expected at most venues, including that at which I found myself, though I have advanced far beyond the days of wooing intoxicated 18-year-old girls in hopes of convincing them that I have an interest aside from finding out what might lie beneath their clothing. Regardless, all those admitted to my selected party were of legal drinking age, doing so in a responsible manner with hardly a vigilant intention among them.
The hour of 8 p.m. signaled the arrival of safe and sober transportation by bus for these party-goers from the south Mission Beach jetty to the selected venue for Friday’s festivities. And so begins the real story.
Many of you know him and those of you who don’t should, but the impelling shepherd of the evening was a man who was like a Moses of Mission Beach, guiding his people down the boardwalk to a promised land. His name is Michael Moll. This is his story.
My previous studies of swine have led me to believe that they have a horrible sense of sight and smell, but somehow, Mission Beach’s finest received a tip-off that masses were on the move. Before a single member of our group had even stepped foot into the parking lot, three San Diego Police Department vehicles stormed onto the scene, as if there was a mecca of jelly donuts before their robust eyes.
Moll, of legal drinking age, was as composed as a North Korean foot soldier. Like the paparazzi on a pantyless Brittany Spears, badged animals bombarded Moll, instantlly proving how authoritative and powerful they were. Without any justification, Moll, who showed no signs of resistance, was detained in a belligerent manner, thrust onto the hood of a police vehicle, as if Officer Chris Brown was detaining Rhianna, handcuffed and tossed into the back seat with no credible explanation aside from the fumes of steam evacuating out of the arresting officer’s nostrils. Though many females may have fantasized about Moll handcuffed and sprawled out, I assure you these dreams were not played out on the hood of a cop car in a seedy beach parking lot.
Based on previous experience with the boys in blue, I am fully aware that negotiations with the police have the same probability of success as a one-sided coin toss. Defeat is imminent. Even so, I approached the officers, fully composed and respectful to their macho insecurities, in order to politely seek information as to why my friend had been detained. An infamous bozo of  San Diego’s  party patrol , who I know many of the students have seen humpty dumptying around the beach, was the first mentally under-developed authority to find himself at a loss for words once I began my inquisition.
In a very rude, short and uncertain manner, he told me that Moll had been detained for public drunkeness. Mind you, no breathalyzer or sobriety tests had been conducted. He was also charged with disorderly conduct. This nincompoop demanded that I leave him be, as I’m sure spelling was a challenge for him as he blankly stared down at his ticket book. When I informed him that our tax dollars fund his obvious habits of  poor nutrition, other humanized rhinos with handcuffs began to send threats my way.
The other power fiends, offering about as much insight into the situation as bonobos teaching physics might elucidate, further bullied me into letting their subpar conversational skills lapse into retirement. Being a relatively small and frail human being, and having no desire to meet some new bros in jail, I decided to retreat for safety.
As the buses departed with one less upstanding citizen, a sense of rage for the events which had transpired began to settle. While Moll sat immobilized, he considerately pleaded to be given the chance to undergo any form of a sobriety test to prove his innocence. The cops refused, stating that they only administer such tests to people believed to be driving under the influence.
In so doing, they essentially forced him into admitting, and apologizing, for his use of “profane language,” which they claim was directed towards them, further prompting his arrest.
For those of you who support the expansion of government, this is a direct result of allowing government to further invade your rights as an American. Moll’s First Amendment rights, afforded him under the Constitution, were stripped away as he found those liberties under the new interpretation of creatures who struggle to read a fast food menu, let annotate linguistics.
After issuing him an infraction citation for disorderly conduct, the officers released Moll about an hour after he had been handcuffed and thrown into the backseat of a police car, all the while never reading him his Miranda rights.
In the end, it turned out to be a successful night for San Diego’s party patrol. They maintained their authoritarian image in front of bus loads of college students and created more undeserving revenue for our broken-budget city.
Indeed, I found it rather interesting that on Micheal’s citation, in the space provided for “vehicle license” or “vehicle identification number,” it read, in bold letters, USD STUDENT.
I firmly believe that the cops in Mission Beach have long been profiling and harassing our student body. This unfortunate incident only confirms my suspicions. Due to a discredited outlook on college students, I doubt anything will result from this fiasco. Still, it doesn’t mean that what happened is acceptable.
While I respect and appreciate the duties of police officers who act within their job description to better our community, I cannot salute the abuses of power undertaken as compensation for a lack of popularity an officer might have had while a teenager. Such an experience, the result of an awkward high school existence, might have propelled him to pursue a life of bullying society.
Moll’s situation was not the first iron fist abuse of force our shores have seen, nor will it be the last, but raising awareness to the subject is crucial to combating it.