Say you’re a famous New York Yankee pitcher, pulled over for suspected DWI in fucking Nebraska. While it helps that you’re actually from Nebraska, you haven’t been around much in recent years, and maybe the troopers will think you’ve gotten a little big for your britches and may decide you were so drunk that you fell down a flight of stairs despite their best efforts… so you play the native son: you joke with the cornhuskers about how people in New York don’t believe in “opening a door and saying please and thank you.” Maybe you know it’s bullshit; maybe you have no idea, having been insulated from anyone but teammates and groupies since you got here. Doesn’t matter, that shit always goes down a treat with the locals. And if you can tell them that in real life Yogi’s really short, so much the better. Yogi will understand. Sign some autographs, and maybe the troopers will even smoke you up later. As for the charges, like you, they’re in the bag, bro. When you come back for the alcohol education classes, don’t forget to say hi to the guys at the barracks!