IN COLLEGE I SPENT MY SUMMERS directing children's plays in a tiny rural town. It was pretty much an excuse to screw off all summer and still get paid. We had about eight hours of rehearsal a week plus periodic work on the set, costumes and publicity. I spent the rest of my summers going to movies and restaurants and spending every dime I earned on entertainment. We rehearsed and performed in a little theater at one end of the local high school. During the last week it was not unusual for the crew (that is, three teenage boys and myself) to stay late painting the set, or going over the music. However, staying past nine o'clock meant that the custodians left me responsible for setting the silent alarm on my way out.

One night before Free To Be You And Me opened we wrapped band rehearsal late. We returned the drum set we borrowed to the high school band department and then I walked the boys to the back door so I could let them out before going to set the alarm. I opened the door and right there was a man was pointing a gun at me. At first I thought, "My God, we're being robbed! Who would rob US?" Then I looked behind him and there was the town's entire police force.

The officer asked us to step outside keeping our hands in the air. It was so bizarre and I was so shocked that I couldn't muffle a horrible nervous giggling. Then the seriousness of the situation settled on me with a chill... the police officer pointing a gun at us looked more nervous than me. I suspect he thought this was going to be the biggest arrest of his career. I'm certain this was the first time this man had ever pointed his gun at an actual suspect.

He said "Now real slowly... everyone take one step to the right.... I mean, left" The absurdity of the situation left me a little neurotic. For a moment I panicked because I had a metal spoon in my skirt pocket from the pudding cup I had finished during rehearsal. My voice was screaming inside my head "What if they think it's a knife? I can't stop giggling, what if they think I'm on drugs? Please God don't let them shoot me. This would be the stupidest way to die!" At that moment our fate was in the hands of a small town cop with a loaded gun. But I couldn't hold the smirky giggling sound in. I imagined his testosterone level was peaking. I swear his hands were shaking.

Neighbors were coming out of their houses in their night clothes to see what was going on. My nervousness became a panic attack. My father was a teacher at the school so everyone in town knew who I was. My giggle changed to a pathetic whimper.

After about five minutes, and what looked like a vote, they frisked us, hand-cuffed us and laid us face down on the pavement. I was beginning to feel extremely embarrassed. I'm certain they knew within ten seconds of our exit that this was a big mistake. What had I done to encourage such wrath? No false alarm at the school had ever triggered a massive tactical response. In fact, since football practice started the week before I assumed the police wouldn't even check the building because the coaches tripped the alarm on a daily basis.

One of the German shepherds standing right behind us started barking furiously, I let out a startled scream. Our drummer, two bodies down from me starting singing "It's All right to Cry." I heard one cop ask another "Should we check the building for drugs, as long as we've got the dogs?" They did. The rest of the cops didn't know what to do to keep busy. They watched us closely, checking the hand-cuffs periodically.

Finally after nearly an hour the Sheriff arrived. I had calmed down enough to start feeling the pain in my knee from the little pebbles on the pavement denting into my skin. As the responsible member of our party, I was allowed to stand and offer an explanation for our being at the school that late and why a drum set was seen moving down the schools main hallway in the middle of the night. They left the hand-cuffs on. I pointed to the production poster on the glass door, asked them to check the sign-in sheet and showed them my keys. They had three or four officers ask me to relay the whole story over and over in a desperate attempt to find something to accuse us of. The chief had gotten his entire force out of bed for this, not to mention the Sheriff.

The neighbors by now had plenty of opportunity for their eyes to adjust and I'm sure they could identify me perfectly, though they were left to guess why I was standing outside the school in hand-cuffs with three teenage boys surrounded by six police cars, two dogs and every cop in town.

Finally, with a scowl of annoyance and defeat the local police chief dispersed his force and un-cuffed my pals. The Sheriff offered advice for the next time I found myself at the school late at night "You just watch yourself missy!" Another officer asked me how much tickets were for the play. Then we left. That was it. I was too jittery to go home so we all went for pie.

W.T. is a member-listener services representative for Minnesota Public Radio. - ed.

Memoir 1: Kennel Rations
Memoir 2: A Memorable Meal
Memoir 3: Free to Be You and Me

Sedaris on Midmorning