We fought the law, and the law won

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All I could feel was intense burning. Then my eyes began to water and I could not see. My mouth and nasal passages became instantly full of mucus and the insides of my eyes felt like the officer just held my lids open and poured in an entire bottle of soap. My ears, forehead, lips and eyelids were screaming to be released from this intense pain. Being pepper-sprayed is not fun. I guess I didn't have to get sprayed for anyone to actually realize that. WEEKEND contacted IU Police Department Captain Jerry Minger to help set up my pepper-spray training session. His first comment was, "We would love to mace Alberto." This fueled my jitters for the next two days. But I didn't want to wimp out. I wanted to know what police cadets in the Bloomington Police Department and IUPD go through during training. I also wanted to know what a suspect goes through when an officer ultimately decides to spray him or her. The morning of my "christening," I was extremely nervous. I could not eat anything for fear of throwing it up later. My heart was pounding as I expressed to a friend how scared I was. I wanted to back out. But I stayed optimistic. This was not only going to help me garner appreciation from the cadets, but I hoped to gain respect from officers, as well. The walk, the talk As I walked to the police station, I knew there was no backing out. I nervously sipped on my bottle of water the way a nervous cigarette smoker lights up after a stressful day at the office. I felt a little better after I anxiously dry heaved a few times in the bathroom before leaving. When I finally walked into IUPD's front doors, I contemplated if I should run to the bathroom to see if I needed to vomit. But instead, I walked up to the officer who agreed to pepper-spray me. IUPD's defensive-tactics instructor, Sgt. David Rhodes, shook my hand and told me this was not going to be fun. I signed a release without reading it for fear of any type of revelation in its contents that would make me back out in some way. I was ready to go. But then I met IUPD Lt. John Butler. "Have you seen the DVDs of what our cadets go through when they get pepper-sprayed?" he asked with a grin. "No, sir, and I don't want to, either," I replied. "It's going to hurt like hell," Butler said. "Well, I guess we'll find out in a few minutes," I laughed nervously. 'The effects are immediate' I was prepped by Minger, who warned that I would possibly not be able to breathe, see or talk for at least 20 minutes. My biggest fear in life is not being able to breathe. You know -- that choking feeling you have before you throw up after a hard night of AMFs, Bud Light and some shots of Jim Beam. "He's going to choke and spit," I heard Minger say. "He won't want to keep his eyes open." That didn't make me feel any more secure. At this point, I really wanted people to stop talking in side conversations about how much hurt I was about to experience in the next two minutes. But I kept on going, wavering between nervous conversations and mini adrenaline rushes. I was told that after I got sprayed I would have a hose to cool my face down and wash my eyes out. Then I would be led to a fan, which would ultimately help my swelling go down and cool my face. "The effects are immediate," Rhodes told our videographer. "Once your eyes close, sometimes your breathing will get affected." 'Spray!' Then came the setup. Rhodes instructed me to keep my hands behind my back and keep my eyes closed. The second the pepper spray touched my face, I was to blink once and rush over to Butler, who was holding a pad that I was to kick with my knee five times. After I completed that task, I had to open my eyes and read a piece of white paper Rhodes was holding to make sure my eyes were functioning. Heart pounding, muscles tensing, throat tightening -- I submissively put my hands behind my back. All side conversations finally stopped, but I wanted them to continue so all the attention wasn't on me. Rhodes stood six feet away from me. I closed my eyes and waited for three seconds that felt like an eternity. "Spray!" Rhodes shouted. He hit me once in my right eye and on my hairline. At first it didn't hurt at all. I was psyched. I was actually part of that 5 to 8 percent who aren't affected by pepper spray. Wait. I had celebrated too soon. Oh crap! The feeling was like aftershave in an open wound, only in my eye. I was trying to see if I could still breathe. Thank goodness I could. Getting what I came for Cop humor is what I expected, and that's what I got. Remember that piece of paper I was supposed to read? Apparently it was to determine the safety of my vision. When I pried my eyes open, my inflamed eye read the words, which I shouted, "I love pepper!" I was rushed to the hose, where someone I couldn't see was helping douse my head and face in cold water. Then someone else I couldn't see assisted me to a box fan. I was instructed to dab and not rub my eyes with a rag I was given by another person I couldn't see. I started to conduct interviews as I struggled to keep my eyes open -- like a good reporter should. Rhodes told me that officers only spray suspects who do not "voluntarily comply" with orders from police. He said officers "very rarely" pepper-spray individuals since the majority of people dealt with are IU students. "We're not trying to do anything bad to them," Rhodes said. "We're just trying to control them so we can take them to a squad car." Within seven to 10 minutes I was feeling relieved and accomplished. My eyes were still burning, and they still are as I write this, two hours later. I was lucky, though. I was actually prepared for the pepper-spray to my face. I can't imagine what a suspect with high adrenaline would feel like getting sprayed. As a sleepy feeling hit my eyes, the respect I was seeking from the officers was felt and heard. Minger told me something that made getting pepper-sprayed worth it all. "We have a new respect for you," he said. That's all I wanted. Most people who get pepper-sprayed aren't so lucky.