How to anger a policeman

I sort of busted a police stakeout

     Hanging around with my brother Dennis was a lot of fun, but could result in some ticklish situations.
     Yesterday I mentioned getting thrown out of a bar for being 13 and drinking beer.  It was one of several instances of hi jinks he somehow drew me into, but one was really scary.
     Dennis was watching me.  So, he took me with him with one of his friends, nicknamed "The Rebel."
     He drove a souped up Ford, maybe a 59 or 60....I was about 14 and really into cars.
     The Rebel was a racer.  He would hang around drive ins and challenge guys to races, with bets of $20 or $30.  He usually won, either because he was crazy or really had a fast car.
     Anyway, there were five of us crammed in the car.  I was in the back seat in the middle.
     The Rebel had had a beer.  We cruised through the drive ins looking for a race, but kept coming up empty.
      Someplace on North Avenue, out near the edge of Chicago, The Rebel decided he had to pee.
      He pulled into an alley between two huge factories, turned off the lights, drove down the alley a ways, stopped, got out and did his business.
      He got back in the car and pulled forward.
      At the end of the alley, we were met by at least five police cars, with one more screaming up the alley behind us.
     Several cops had guns drawn and were pointing at  the car.
     They ordered The Rebel out and spread-eagled him on the hood.  They told the rest of us not to move.  They opened the trunk, looked in, looked under the front seats and kept shining lights in our faces in the back seat.
     All was done with no indication of what we had done wrong.
     Then the cop asked, "What were you doing in the alley?"
     The Rebel pointed at me and said, "The little kid in the back seat had to pee."
     The cop shined his light in my face and said, "That the truth?"
      Well, I did not lie....because at that point I think I did pee.  I shook my head vigorously.
      "I gotta go again," I said.
      It turned out one of the factories had been burglarized four times in the past six months.  The police had set up a stakeout...and this was week two of their attempt to catch the bad guys.
      They were not happy.
     An officer ordered The Rebel to get in the car and drive away.
    And he offered some advice:  "Next time the kid needs a shithouse, don't stop here or you'll all end up in the shithouse!"
     I never went with them again.  That  was my choice.