A pay phone outside a supermarket. Christmastime. So depressed I needed to talk to a crisis line. Next thing I knew 4 cops with flashlights in my eyes yelling at me to put down the phone. Up against the wall being frisked. Into the squad car with absolutely no knee room. Never been in one before. How do taller people even get in? Checked for "priors" as if depression is a crime. Put into an ambulance and hauled away. All those shoppers looking on and having no idea I was just depressed. This was outside a restaurant full of people who had nothing to do but watch what was happening to me. They must have thought I was dealing heroin to the preschool or committed armed robbery by the treatment I was receiving. Never again will I call a crisis line. I'd rather die.