Eugene Police department
A Humorous Goodbye to Eugene: Big Butts, Little Butts, and Jailhouse Plumbing
Leaving Eugene, Oregon? Baby, let me tell you — the Eugene Police Department would’ve killed me if I stayed. And not in a cute way.
I’ve got this habit of sizing up cops: big butts, little butts, rookie butts, experienced butts. I’m conducting a full gluteal inventory while they’re trying to read me my rights. Priorities.
So there I was, rolling to Douglas County Jail, just chilling in the deputy’s cruiser like it was Uber Black. Didn’t even realize the dark-skinned guy in orange was supposed to be the “scared” one — but he was looking scared of me. Plot twist.
We get to Roseburg and the deputy looks at me and says, “If she gets any smarter…” Sir. I was born smart. You’re just now noticing?
They put me in this cell, so I did what any reasonable woman would do: got some water, flashed my bobbie at the camera, and boom — door opened. Upgraded accommodations, thank you very much. I wasn’t about to sit in economy when first class was available.
Spent the night playing in the water. Heard a commotion — hard heels on concrete at 2am. I stayed quiet like a church mouse with a law degree. Morning comes, and this white woman with tennis shoes opens the door and smiles. Angel in New Balance.
Mam, if I made it through all that and I’m still here? She took care of court stuff, got it dismissed, and handled my affairs.
Man, I am bad ass.
Eugene couldn’t hold me. Douglas County couldn’t break me. And the camera? It learned who’s boss.
Leaving Oregon wasn’t a choice. It was an eviction with style.
And yes — I still drink water, pay my bills, and size up deputies. Some things never change.
