I have another story. I moved out of my house shortly before I turned sixteen. My brother, his girlfriend and I shared an apartment. I went to school during the day and I worked about 7:00 to 11:30 at night a couple days during the week and on weekends. I didn't have a car at the time so I had to hoof it home and practically every night a cop would pull up to me, ask me a load of questions, search me and then let me go. This went on for weeks. Eventually they would just flash their lights and wave at me or follow me for a bit and leave.
By chance I saw one of the cops at my job and we talked a little. I was glad I saw her because it proved I wasn't lying. She was laughing when she told me the cops were harassing me because they thought I was lying about walking home form work and I was actually a male prostitute. The area I walked through was a well known pick up spot. I was aware of this fact because beside the cops I had dudes pulling over and asking me if I was okay and needed a ride. I always declined. I didn't want to live out my days in someone's rape dungeon. This was before the days I knew about bodybuilding's seedy underbelly. If I knew then what I knew then I would have found the most sparkly pair of thongs I could find and made a few bucks.
Funny side story, one of the good samaritans who asked if I was okay and needed a ride was an administrator at my old school. I recognized him instantly because of his bad toupee. He didn't recognize me.
Ha! I got a similar one, but it's only a one-timer. Briefly moved to Belmont Shores (Long Beach, CA) to finish college. First day I was there, got my morning coffee/paper and drove to beach parking lot, which was completely empty. Ignored the meter 'cause it was so early and desolate - within five minutes, cop blocks me in, ticket pad out, knocking on my window.
Buried in my paper, I get kinda startled, tell him I'm sorry about meter, just pulled up. He looks a little confused, asks me what I'm doing. "Bowling," I say, "working the 7-10 split," as I show him my coffee and paper. He smiles, asks me if I'm local, and I tell him I just moved in same day. Puts his pad away and explains how meters are monitored STRICTLY to prevent loitering.
Then he explains Belmont Shores "loitering," which often involves a single man parking, waiting for another single man to pull up next to him, so they can share one car for 15-20 minutes. Oops. Get the picture, didn't know. "I'll read in my apartment," I tell him, and he lets me off with a warning. Welcome to Long Beach.
Soon saw said loitering daily, so I ended up studying at Huntington Beach instead. Crazy world.