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The Brooklyn Paper / Aaron Greenhood

Paper columnist Matthew Lysiak with coffee at scene of the crime.

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I admit it. I’m guilty as charged. And let me tell all you kids out there: littering is bad. You can take it from me.

My cautionary tale begins with the careless placement of one coffee cup on a garbage-littered shelf at the 77th Street Station. What followed were handcuffs and a ride in the back of a police van to Traffic Division 34 headquarters in Coney Island.

“This is really something,” said the guy behind the Plexiglas, whose job it was to verify my identity. “They never used to bring people in for these kinds of things. But this is what happens when crime goes down and the number of officers on the streets goes up.

“The guy I just spoke with before you is in here because he missed the trash can,” Plexiglas-man added.

“Well, I didn’t exactly miss the trash can,” said Lateek White of Red Hook, who became my cellmate moments later.

“The can was overflowing and I threw my trash in it, but it bounced out and rolled on the ground.”

The police ran his record and found an outstanding warrant for failing to respond to a citation for speeding while his wife was in labor.

“I just lost track of that citation. That day was pretty crazy,” White said.

Better to face the wrath of the law than a pregnant woman any day.

When they ran my record, I didn’t have as good of an excuse. My warrant was from a citation I received for biking on the sidewalk late one summer night a few years ago. The summons didn’t have an amount on it, so I just pleaded not guilty.

It would have been a good idea to follow up on that one.

Now Lateek and I were sharing a cell with a semi-conscious guy sleeping on the floor and another guy who was describing what heroin tastes like when it must be swallowed.

“Bitter, man, real bitter,” the guy said. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

I didn’t dare venture close enough to the bathroom stall to see if the feces smeared on the wall were fresh or just a stain, but judging by the smell, it could have gone either way.

“Good to see they arrest white people, too,” Lateek said.

I told everyone that I was arrested for littering. And just like in that Arlo Guthrie song, they all moved away from me on the bench.

By the time we were finally marched upstairs to see the judge, nine hours had passed, and I was in no mood to defend myself against the allegation of littering.

“The state would be satisfied with eight hours of community service,” the prosecutor told the judge. I stood motionless next to my lawyer, my best friend of all of six minutes.

“Or we would be satisfied if Mr. Lysiak presents the court with an article on why it is wrong to litter. Your honor, Mr. Lysiak writes for The Brooklyn Paper.”

Damn that background-check guy! Damn the power of this newspaper!

But as an alternative to eight hours wearing an orange jumpsuit along the Shore Parkway, I jumped at it.

So what did I learn from my day in jail? One vital thing, kids: Littering is a horrible, horrible thing to do. Even if you don’t see a trash can, and even if the shelf at the 77th Street Station is filled with other cups, even if you feel that the Department of Sanitation should be doing a better job, it is not right — not at all — to leave your cup there.

Oh, and one more thing: Don’t ever swallow heroin. It tastes real bitter and can mess up your stomach.

©2007 The Brooklyn Paper