And the judge bellows: “Mary Purdy, you are
charged with ‘disturbing the peace’. How
do you plead?” A soft chirp is all I can muster. “Guilty”.
Now, I have never been someone who has gotten
into trouble nor did I have the desire for engaging in harmful mischievous
activity in my youth. I still suffer a
twinge of guilt when reminded that, I, at 6 years old once covertly covered a
large pile of dog poop with pebbles and then suggested to my afternoon playmate
that jumping into the “pile of pebbles” would be a fun game for which she
should definitely go first.
I was a “model student”- polite, courteous, never
obsequious, but very respectful of others. I managed to always have a bit of an angelic
reputation and was voted “The nicest” in my grade. Aside from that poop pebble aberration, I
wasn’t really one to test the test the boundaries, and I soon came to realize
that if I were to do something
wrong, no one would ever suspect me. I remember my freshman year, I had eaten an
orange in the school library - a major no no but I was hungry. Ms. McCormick, the fierce librarian, came
scurrying around the corner, led by the obvious smell.
“Who is eating an orange in here?” She shrieked. (At that point, the orange was
in my stomach, the rind in the trash) She
looked around at the silent students.
Then she looked at me.
“Well, I
know it wasn’t YOU, Mary.”
Disturbing the peace. There IS no peace in Panama City Florida
during Spring Break. It is its own battleground of booze, bimbos and brawn. Nature and all things natural seem to have
packed their bags and left permanently. Everyone there is half drunk, half
intelligent, half naked (even in 45 degree weather) and shouting obscenities to
each other from car to car on the main drag and interrupted only by the call and response “Woo!” “Woo!”
And music blasts and blares out of every vehicle at every hour of the
night. There is no peace in Panama City. None.
