Thursday, October 4, 2001 Volume 67, Issue 31


Interacting with the pseudocops

Brandon Moeller

Another week, another story up my sleeve. This one is from my freshman year at UH, when I had a crazy roommate named Daniel. He still attends the University. Hey Lil' D.
what's up my man?

Anyway, one day I got off work late one night and my roommate had a couple of fohtays waiting for me in the fridge when I got home.

If you don't know what a fohtay is, then you obviously missed my columns from that period of my life. "Fohtay" is 40 ounces of malt liquor in a bottle. If you know me, you know
I prefer Mickey's.

When I arrived, the room was packed with our drunken friends. I walked into the middle of an emotionally charged domino game.

Now everyone who knows how to play bones knows you have to slam the domino on the table every time you score. That's half the fun. But the general rowdiness and noise
level of the competition got out of hand.

Needless to say our pin-headed fellow fourth-floor Taub Hall residents complained to the Resident Advisors about the loud noise at two in the morning.

Two RAs came knocking on my door. Being the least drunk and having the best reputation for having fun with these student pseudocops, it was my duty to answer the door.

"Uh, hello ," I responded by cracking the door just enough to see out.

"We're Resident Advisors and we got a complaint about the noise level in here," said one of the two RAs.

"Sorry about that man, we'll hold it down," was something along the lines of my response. 

But this didn't quench the over-achieving RA's quest for residential justice. No, he had to go and offend me by continuing his investigative probe.

"Is there alcohol in there?" he asked. "Because if you're underage you can't have it in your room."

"Naah, man, there's no booze in here," I said, half-drunk.

"Well that's funny, because I smell it."

Busted, I thought. But there was no way my comrades and I were going to go down without a fight.

"You can't smell a thing," I slurred and laughed at them.

"Can I search your room to make sure you don't have any alcohol in there?" he countered, getting very agitated.

I was in no condition or mood to give him a lecture about this country's Fourth Amendment so I just scoffed my sternest "No!" followed with more buzzing laughter.

"Well if you don't let me search your room I'll be back up here in three minutes with UHPD to search your room more thoroughly than you probably want."

Now this is where it gets interesting, folks. Mr. John Wayne Resident Advisor is giving me an ultimatum, but more importantly a three-minute window of exploitable
opportunity. How could I resist his offer, even if it meant dragging the authorities in on it?

"Fine. Come back in three minutes and you and your secret police will see how clean we are!" I challenged and he accepted.

"Fine," he said to me as I slammed the door on his face.

Moeller, a junior communication major, 
can be reached at

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