OLD WESTBURY MEMORIES: THE ANTICLIMACTIC CONCLUSION

Many years have passed since I had been removed from the Party King of Long Island throne. My social gatherings have now been relegated to simply “having people over”- group of boys, a girl or two every now and then, barely breaking double digits in total. Maybe a little beer pong; far cry from the glory of yesteryear.
Alas, I’m content.
Been there, funneled that.
However, my past still haunts me…or makes me feel cool that I was having epic displays of debauchery at 15.


2 DAYS AGO:

I just got a new car, and traditionally the Old Westbury denizen runs to the police station to acquire the Village of Old Westbury (VOW) sticker. This rectangular sticker, classically placed on the bumper of the vehicle is the ultimate status symbol. Residents claim it makes you immune to speeding tickets from OW cops. I think it’s just to let fellow motorists know you live in on of the most expensive zip codes in America. It’s a bunch of bullshit.

Naturally, I had to get one.




It was good to be King


I arrive at the Old Westbury Police Station.

Me: Hi, I wanted to get a VOW sticker?

Cop: And you are…?

Me: Uh.. Evan Krumholz?

Cop: You got a license or proof of address?

Me: Yea…sure * I hand him my license, carefully making sure it’s not my fake ID*

Cop: 11 Polo Drive….you’re that kid who always has parties…

Me: Had those parties

Cop: Yea, you always pretended like you didn’t invite everyone

Me: That was like four years ago man

Cop: Didn’t you cry once?

Me: I WAS LIKE FOURTEEN, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CAME OVER? CAN I JUST GET MY STICKER PLEASE?

Cop: Blue letters or green?

Me: Oooo, I’ll take bluedaddy

THE SUPPOSED END