Mitch : 01 - Handcuffed at School (M/m)

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Mitch : 01 - Handcuffed at School (M/m)

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Mitch's stories
01 - Handcuffed at School
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By Mitch

Friday, November 16th 2001 - 10:47:42 PM

Handcuffed at School

When I was in grade school in a small town in eastern Pennsylvania in the mid sixties, our school would receive an occasional visit from one of our town's three policemen, who we felt we knew from seeing around so often. It was a pretty relaxed place, but not without its share of petty crime: burglaries, drug use (glue sniffing behind the bowling alley) and drunk driving, mainly.

At one of these session for fourth, fifth and sixth graders, (I was in fifth) Officer Ed told us about the importance of locking our doors and bicycles, and of the dangers and consequences of drug and alcohol abuse: pretty boring stuff. But at the end, I knew there would be the query: "Any questions?"

I was ready. My hand shot up. "Officer, can I try on your handcuffs?" I blurted out, blushing a little. Several "Me, too"s, were shouted out by three other boys. Several girls giggled.

I had always been fascinated by handcuffs and had had some flimsy toys, but I had never even touched a pair of genuine cuffs. I had played cop and robber kid games with friends, and always wanted to be the robber, so I could get caught and cuffed. Rope ties had their charms, but I was definitely a handcuff fan.

Officer Ed was well prepared for this kind of request and called on all four of us who raised our hands to come up front. He had two pairs of handcuffs on his belt. He handed one pair to me, and a different pair to another boy. He told us to try to put the handcuffs on the other two boys. These cuffs seemed awfully heavy and serious, with official-looking stamps and numbers on them. I learned much later, after I began to collect handcuffs, that they were standard Smith and Wessons. We could not open them or get them on our mates' wrists, because the cuffs were double-locked. This led Officer Ed to discuss the mechanics of the handcuffs, how they locked and double-locked and all that. He took the key from his belt and unlocked the cuffs as we held them. He took my pair and showed the whole class how the swing-through ratchet mechanism worked.

He then told us to go ahead and cuff our "prisoners". I quickly ratcheted the cuffs down onto the skinny wrists which my willing partner, Billy, held out to me. Officer Ed then told the two "prisoners" to try to escape from their handcuffs. The smaller kid, Billy, the one I cuffed, was able to slip one cuff off over his hand. The class cheered. Officer Ed remarked that arresting policemen had to be sure handcuffs were tight enough not to slip off but not so tight that they hurt. He ratcheted through the free-swinging cuff and reapplied it to Billy's free wrist, but more snugly than I had. Billy tried hard but could not slip the cuff off any more.

Officer Ed handed me the key and told me to remove the cuffs from the two handcuffed students, which I did after figuring out which way to turn the key. He then took the key and cuffs back from me. This was all great, but I was afraid that the demonstration was about to end without me getting to feel the steel on my own wrists. I felt cheated because I was the one who first asked to try on the cuffs. I need not have feared.

Officer Ed then told me and the other boy who hadn't yet been cuffed that if we wanted, he was going to show us what it was like to really be arrested, which elicited wide grins and nods of agreement from us two and murmurs of approval from the assembled classes.

He told us to lean up facing against the blackboard with our arms outstretched. He patted me down, and quickly slapped a cuff on my right wrist, straightened me up, pulled my other arm, and in a flash, I was cuffed behind my back, palms facing out. He did all this so fast it was like he was acting out of reflex. He did something to my cuffs, which I learned later on was double-locking, to prevent them from further tightening. I was as good as officially arrested. With my back still facing the class, but turning my head to see what I could behind my back, I moved my hands around a little, flexed my arms, twisted my wrists, struggled a bit and generally tried to see if I could slip the cuffs off or pry them open, like I could with toy cuffs. I wasn't particularly big for my eleven years, and thought maybe these adult-sized cuffs would be too big for me.

"Go ahead, Mike, you try to get those cuffs off, but don't hurt yourself", said Officer Ed, observing my struggles as he handcuffed the other guy. "Those handcuffs have been issued to me for use on dangerous criminals and are designed to be escape-proof. I have placed them on you just like I would place them on a wanted fugitive. You'll notice you couldn't even reach the keyholes if you had a key in your hand. Unless you're some kind of Houdini, those cuffs aren't coming off you until I decide to unlock them." He explained police department policy to handcuff all persons being taken into custody, regardless of age. He mentioned that a nine-year-old shoplifter had once worn his cuffs. Slightly sweaty, and blushing, I diminished my struggles and got used to the feel of being inescapably bound in official police restraints. This was fun. The class was fascinated both by the struggle and by all the police talk.

Officer Ed then called on one of the others who had been cuffed earlier, handed him the key and asked him to release us, as he continued to talk about his techniques and experiences handcuffing criminals, of which he was clearly proud. The kid he gave the key to was an oversized sixth-grader with brusque moves. He uncuffed the other guy first but it took him a while, and it looked like he was really turning the key real hard, which I knew wasn't necessary. He got the cuffs off him anyway, then turned to me. He kept grunting and I felt a lot of movement behind my back. Suddenly, he said, "Hey, look at that, the key busted!"

Those words got Officer Ed's attention. He checked the situation out and announced casually that yes indeed handcuff keys break once in a while, so we'll just have to use another one. He looked in all the usual hiding places on his uniform for an extra key. He had none with him. He said something about leaving his jacket and extra keys at the station.

I'll give credit to Officer Ed, he was pretty unflappable. He just said calmly, "Well it looks like I'll have to take Mike here down to the station house for a few minutes to get another key for those cuffs or he won't be raising his hand much today. Is that okay with you, Miss Richards, and you, Mike?" I wasn't in much of a position to refuse, not that I wanted to. I might get to skip Math class. This was better than I had hoped for.

I was wearing a bright red crew neck sweater that crisp fall morning. I blushed to about the same shade of red as the sweater when Officer Ed grasped me firmly by my upper arm to make sure I did not stumble while cuffed behind my back. He walked me down the corridor and out into the street to the waiting patrol car. While I was waiting to get in the car, Officer Ed said he would just check real quick to see if he had an extra key in the car. He didn't. He did have bolt cutters and could cut the cuffs off me if he needed to, if the locks were really jammed, he said, but that made no sense when keys were just five minutes down the road.

As he explained all this we were standing in full sun and I still felt hot from my futile efforts to slip out of the cuffs. I started to move to take my sweater off, then I realized I could not, so long as the handcuffs were locked on my wrists. I had never felt locked into my clothes before. I looked around. It seemed like every window in the school was filled with amazed faces staring at me in my manacles. A passerby on the street paused to witness the drama of crime and punishment. I felt I was blushing again. Officer Ed put one hand on my head and one on my bicep as he gently guided me into the prisoner-ready back seat of his cruiser. I had to sit on my handcuffs. Good thing they were double-locked.

Back at the station house, Officer Ed told the secretary/dispatcher what was going on. She laughed, said "Hi, Mike" to me and that was about it. Officer Ed found another key in his desk in less than a minute. As he was unlocking them, Officer Ed asked if I was sure I wanted the cuffs off, because that would mean going back to school. I laughed and said, "why don't you put me in jail instead: it's got to be better than math!" Officer Ed said he could show me a bit of what jail was like. He took me for a little tour, showed me how they do fingerprints and gave me a card with my own prints on it to keep. Seeing my continued enthusiasm, he took a mug shot of me too - after letting me put the handcuffs back on in front of me for the photo (the latter touch was my idea).

While the Polaroid photo was developing, I asked if I was going to see where they locked up prisoners. The obliging Officer Ed said that he didn't fingerprint and mug-shot people unless they were going to jail, and of course that's where I was headed. He left the handcuffs on me, took me through locked barred gate to the holding pens in the next corridor and clanged it shut. With a flourish, he pushed me into a real old-fashioned barred jail cell, slammed and locked the door. He announced that my trial for attempted hookey-playing was set to begin as soon as the judge arrived, and left. It was cold in there (no inmates, so the heat was off in that corridor). I was glad I still had my sweater on. I was chained, helpless, and locked in a real jail cell. This was as neat as a scene from "The Man From U.N.C.L.E.," except that I was part of it, not just watching it on TV.

As a couple of minutes went by, I wondered if he really was going to bring me to court. I was young and gullible enough to wonder if I maybe had done something wrong after all. I looked at my cuffs and the bars, and had a real shiver of fear.

It was just a minute or so before an ever-upbeat Officer Ed returned and freed me from the cell and from my manacles. My moment of fright dissipated. I rode in the front seat of the patrol car for the trip back to school.

The return scene at my classroom a few minutes later was tumultuous. Math class wasn't even half over since we had only been gone twenty minutes. Officer Ed, whom Miss Richards would marry a few years later, apologized for the disruption, tousled my hair and told the class the governor had just granted pardons to all kids in red sweaters. To this day I am often reminded of that cell and those cuffs when I see a bright red sweater.

The principal explained what had happened to the whole school on the loudspeaker so that kids from other classes wouldn't repeat the rumor that I had really been arrested for bicycle theft. I had playground bragging rights for months, particularly with the fingerprint card and mug shot of me wearing the handcuffs. Lots of kids refused to believe I had been locked in a jail cell because I had no proof. For the rest of that school year, whenever I really acted up, which wasn't that often, Miss Richards would say, "Mike, you'd better calm down or I am going have to call Officer Ed to come back here and put those handcuffs on you again." That would be enough to embarrass me into submission as the girls giggled and my friends smirked. Little did Miss Richards suspect how much I would have enjoyed another "arrest". I wonder if she ever got to try on Officer Ed's cuffs!

My handcuff adventure was at the center of our dinner conversation at home that evening. My father, who was a member of the same Elks Lodge as Officer Ed, thought it quite funny. My mother was a bit concerned about why I had asked to be handcuffed, and at the fact I had been locked in a cell, but my father was dismissive: "boys do things like that," he said. My older brother, who was in the second year of high school, feigned boredom, but seemed secretly envious, and asked me lots of questions later. Within a year, my brother and I pooled our resources and bought a pair of real handcuffs and a pair of real leg irons at an Army-Navy store when we went to New York to see a basketball game. My brother and his friends made me wear them on the bus ride home, but that's another story.

Although police visits to classrooms in our town continued, they never seemed to get around to the classroom handcuff demonstration again while I was there. However, for those who arrange group visits to the station house (Boy Scouts and the High School Civics Class, for example) I understand Officer Ed continued to show off his handcuffing skills, but in places where there are always sure to be a few spare keys!

Mitch

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nic123qwerty123
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Post by nic123qwerty123 »

Wow, great story. Did it really happen? I wish it happened to me :)
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