This is a story about a fucking asshole named Chris Payne. This dick lived next door to us on Pontiac street when Evan and I first transferred over to SDSU in 2004. Chris started out as a seemingly cool older guy. We were 22, and rented this cool house a few blocks from SDSU with some good buddies (Bobbinator, Crocker, eventually Anderson…). The garage was quickly converted into “The Pontiac Pub” where we built a full bar, refurbished an old pool table, dart board, and basically built a fully functional pub in the garage. Things with the neighbor, Chris Payne, started off cool enough – he would sneak by every night for a cold beer in the pub where were all hanging out at night after classes and work. He would even usually throw down some cash on the new keg we picked up each week.
Things started to get a little weird when he started asking us for weed. He made comments about growing a few plants in his backyard, and then started calling us at random hours, whispering into his phone to see if he could buy a eighth or two. It was obvious he would sneak away from his wife into the garage and hit us up for a quick score. The problem is none of us smoked. We sure drank a shit done, but nobody was really into smoking (This is important later, as you’ll see in the documents that Chris accused us of dealing, smoking, selling, all sorts of shit were blatant, outright lies). Things finally went too far when he began calling us at 8am before class asking Bobby to “wake and bake”.
The relationship between us and Chris and his pregnant wife quickly began to deteriorate. He stopped coming to our parties, and instead made it his personal goal to call the cops on us every chance he got. This is when the emails started. He led a campaign in the neighborhood to have our house CAPPed (Click HERE for more information about the SDSU CAPP program) and got our house put on lockdown. He even went so far as to report a party we had to the police as a riot taking place, and the SDPD sent out a helicopter which circled above our house for an hour with spotlights shining down on us. Luckily, I kept all of the emails and letters that were sent around during this whole year long ordeal, and I’m happy to post them here for posterity.
So, read through the whole thing and have a good laugh at the absurdity of Chris Payne and his crusade against the Pontiac Pub!