audience were straggling out of the theater, | was sitting with Julius in his

audience were straggling out of the theater, | was sitting with Julius in his car in the parking area at Fort Mason Center. He was busy rolling a joint in a cigar-box on the dashboard with the map light on. There was a police car circling around in the distance, but we unwisely ignored it. Suddenly, a moment later, there was a fist knocking heavily on the passenger-side window, and a flashlight shining in my eyes. Shit! Fuck! Caught! We were ordered outside and, with our arms outstretched against the side of the car, with the face of Alfred E. Neuman smiling at the cop and asking, “What--me worry?” And indeed, the cop was worried. He asked me if | had anything sharp in my pockets. “Because,” he explained, “I’ m gonna get very mad if | get stuck,” obviously referring to a hypodermic needle. “No,” | said, “there’ s only a pen in this pocket" --gesturing toward the left with my head-- “and keys in that one.” He found the coiled-up three feet of yellow plastic tape warning “Police Line--Do Not Cross,” and said, “Where'’ d you get this?” “At the Saint Stupid Day Parade.” “What's it for?” “To keep people away.” HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015450