"LET ME tell you about the Spruce Creek Airport Keg Party Raid."

"O My God! Were you there?"

"We'd just popped open the keg when the police came. Terry Chick is sitting locked into the fetal position right in the middle of the runway, with his hands over head, nothing around him for a hundred yards and he's being quiet so's no one will find him. He was so drunk."

"So five flashlights descend on him, swooping and swirling in the night...'Hey look what we got here!'...and then one of the sheriffs makes the mistake of saying 'Let's go son' and, Chick, he's up and says:

"I'm gonna beat your goddamn motherfuckin head to pieces. C'mere goddammit! And of course Chick goes down under a pile of flashlights and sheriffs. Five lunky mother-fuckers. He really went into the wild man bit."

"Then De Ross he swims out into the inlet and comes back about 2-3 hours later with mud on him. And walks the five miles home. But he didn't know that more cops were all waiting for him back at his house...

"The poor sonofabitch!"

"And Pierre. The Big Samoan. All-State shotputter, the Brute! At first he tries to hide! You can't hide an elephant in the bullrushes."

"At the first rush he realizes that it's his car with the keg attached to it, so he comes out with his hands up with that funny finy voice of his saying, 'Don't shoot, coppers! Don't shoot, coppers! It's all my doing. I led everybody into it. Put me away. I done it all!"

"Yeah, Big Pierre."

"And Jacobs is heading out through the woods on his motor bouncing over stumps as fast as he can go. SGA President. Top stump jumper.

"WELL THEY load me and Mark Sibley and Jack Chick--Terry Chick's brother, and somebody else, God I forget. And then they get Chick.

"Goddamn cops won't let anybody have a little fun any more," says Chick.

"And every beverage agent and state trooper in the county had swooped in on the joint. There were 10 cop cars of various descriptions.

"And there's Terry rolling drunk and they've about got him in the car and he yells out.