Joovee

While working today, I listened to Josh Cereghino’s story on The Moth Podcast Series. He’s from my hometown, Thousand Oaks, and on the audio track, he recounted his 10-day stint in Ventura County jail for shoplifting.

The judge sentenced him to jail because he had violated parole. He was on parole for stealing a golf cart and being involved, in his own words, a “low speed police pursuit.”

For the shoplifting charge, Josh got caught stealing some roses for an ex-girlfriend who was about to go to college. The story is funny. He somehow offends a vato who he must fight according to unwritten prison code; he befriends the top-of-the-food-chain Aryan biker, and somehow gets a reputation in jail for being a poet.

Hearing his story made me wonder if stealing golf carts in Thousand Oaks was a semi-regular occurrence. In high school, one of the camp counselors I worked with at the Y, gave me a master golf cart key. He was in college and told me to have fun.

That weekend, I rounded up some friends and went to the local golf course. We ended up jacking two carts. One was from a public golf course and the second one was at an exclusive country club.

We must have looked a bit suspicious to the public golf course marshal. Golf carts aren’t meant for 5 people. Hanging off of one side, I remember thinking that the marshal’s cart must have been souped up because he easily pulled up to us as I was yelling at DC to step on it because the marshall was right next to me. Looking back, I realize that the marshal's cart wasn't special. Our golf cart was carrying 500+ pounds.

Are there common things which reckless youth in suburbia do across the US?

During smoke breaks at my last job, I’d trade stories with two guys who grew up in Brooklyn. City mischief seemed different. It seems like their mischief was more concentrated in homes (birthday caking toes) than outside where they could suffer harsher consequences from the police than I would have experienced in a relatively affluent suburb.

Being older and, therefore, more cautious, I can see how innocent fun can quickly escalate to something more serious. Back then, my parents’ wrath was more of a deterrent than the idea of juvenile hall (joovee). I’m really fortunate that none of the joggers around the lake had gotten hurt when we drive-by water ballooned them . . . as far as we know.

I'm definitely glad to have had my sense of fun drift away from potential danger and possible jail time.