Police and Hazing

So today I managed to get a ticket while on my bike. The cops insisted that I had run a red light while crossing a bridge, although the light had just turned yellow when I had gotten to it. I might’ve tried to argue my case if I had been in Canada, but I was already unnerved by the suspicious questions they were asking me about my visa and my nationality, so I decided I didn’t want to risk being detained as a terrorist or whatever as punishment for being uppity. One of the abiding reasons why there is so much resentment against police among non-dominant folks (racial minorities, immigrants, queer folks, etc) is precisely that we often have to surrender our dignity in the interest of avoiding punitive “enforcement.”

Anyway, that smeared some shit on an otherwise pleasant day. My trip to the market was very productive (I’ll be eating tons of fish and vegetables this week) and work was fine.

But at night, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I heard a group of American-English-speaking voices singing cheerleading songs (“Everywhere we go-o / People always ask us / Whooo we a-are…”) and occasionally yelling “On your knees!” repeatedly, followed by cheering. Is there a frat hazing going on in Paris? I leaned out the window and looked down on the street and, indeed, saw some young guy on his knees, with a funnel in his mouth and his friends taking turns pouring alcohol into his gullet while taking pictures.

Way to represent American culture, guys. I can’t wait until this moved to throwing up and then toxic shock. Wheee.