Ok, so I show up to school in the following “questionable” (or so it was called by my administrators) attire for the following reasons.
Trenchcoat - It was colder than a witch’s tit and I have no other sweater, jacket, sweatshirt.
Combat boots - Puddles are everywhere and if I were to wear my Chuck Taylor’s I would have soggy feet at the end of the day.
My day is fine until lunch, I had gone through 4 periods with no problem until an administrator see’s me. He waves me over and asks to search my briefcase. I tell him that he may not because he has no probable cause to search it. He reponded to me by saying that the way I was dressed was probable cause enough. I ask him “What is wrong with the way I am dressed?”, he responded with a lie and told me that it is against school dress code standards. I then borrow my friend’s Student Planner which was given to the whole school at the beggining of the year, which outlines the school dress code and I ask him to show me where it says I cannot dress like that. He finds nothing. So, I’m out of the clear, right? Wrong. I am taken to his office where he tries to tell me that I am just some thug looking to intimidate the whole school. I ask him to look at my record and see if he can find anything that would point out that I might want to go on a killing ramapage, he refuses. I then explain why I am wearing what I am wearing (as if I should have to explain myself to anyone, but I thought it would help the situation) and all he can do is sit there and look at me blankly. He then sweeps over my briefcase with a metal detector and of course it goes off, it has metal in it you fuck! He takes that as enough probable cause and insists that I should open my briefcase. I refuse (It has a combination lock). Tired of all this he lets me go but not without the warning that if I am ever to show probable cause, that he would throw the book at me (Or something to that affect).
So to my administrator that is so goddamn sure someone will blow up the school that he is ready to make the person up, in the great words of Cecil Adams, Eat shit and die.