Finding Jesus in a bottle of pills and other not so good endeavors . . .

So it's been awhile since I've got to share something worthwhile on here (not that I'm entirely sure any of the following qualifies). Call it writer's block. Or, as my partner in psych pointed out this evening, call it "we're pretty sure not too much shocks us any more." That being said . . .

A girl takes an indeterminate amount of unknown pills. After her ER visit, and various other medical adventures, she arrives at our jail. She proceeds to tell us she has found Jesus. Wonderful. In the pills. Ok, maybe not so good. Apparently we are all going to hell, (according to my partner, not news). We are evil, Godless souls ect. Then she pulls down her pants and presses parts of her anatomy I don't need to see against the cell window. Nice. I don't think Jesus was impressed . . .

Don't decide to eat something that's inedible as a quick way to the hospital. Especially if that something is a bolt, or a pencil, or anything else your mom taught you not to put in your mouth. It will not end well. Trust us.

I had to write a medical report that made my Sgt. call me and say, "I never want to read another report containing 'foul smelling discharge from the vaginal area' again." Sorry, the medical department told me we had to document it. Next time I guess I'll have to put a disclaimer on my reports.

Do not think that the best course of action after rolling a tanker truck (commercial not firefighting) is to get out and walk around. Please, please let us backboard you. You're making me nervous . . .

Please do not eat razor blades . . . see the earlier disclaimer about bad ends.

Never underestimate how short of a fuse your partner may have after his/her beloved NFL team of choice gets beaten.

Say, "Hey, I love you . . ."

I spent my shift the other night working the control room catching up with two good friends also working the main control room. Best shift in a long time. Never underestimate the power a kind word or a smile will have on someone. Always stop and chat with a friend if you have time. Call somebody having a slow night when that hour between 23o and 330 seems like it will never end.

Say "Hey, I love you . . ."

Pay it forward friends. I had the privilege of being at the right place at the right time a few days ago in our courthouse for a medical emergency. He's actually someone I know quite well. You can make a difference. Don't let the politics and the cynicism get you down . . . it's hard I know. But trust me, it's worth it.

We're a law enforcement agency, and you have warrants . . .

Some things never cease to amaze me. Case in point: You have warrants. You know about these warrants. Other people know about these warrants. Yet you still come to visitation day at the sheriff's office. You still present your state issued ID to the COP who is running visitation. How are you shocked when you get arrested for outstanding warrants?

"Like, I so did not think you could arrest me while I'm visiting my boyfriend."
"You do realize that this jail is part of the sheriff's office."
"Yeah, but that's like so not cool. Can't you like arrest me when I'm done out in the parking lot?"

I'm a cop, you have warrants, this is a sheriff's office. What did you think we would do?

This might be why the public thinks we're idiots . . .

I was at a training recently with some coworkers and various other people from various other departments. Said training was over search and seizure. The instructor asks this guy from my department what he knows about the 4th Amendment. The answer? Wait for it . . .

"Uh, nothing man. I mean the academy was like so five or six years ago."

Holy hell. Really? My Lt.'s eight year old son knows more about the Constitution than you do . . . It's not so much remembering the academy as having a basic working knowledge of US government and civics in general. I was trying to melt into the floor behind him before somebody noticed we had the same uniform on. No wonder they put this guy in what amounts to a clerical position at our department.

Best quote from the instructor: "I'd send you home, but you don't have a home."
Officer: "Huh? Yeah I do."
Instructor: "Nope. We took it since you have no idea what your rights are."

Geodon speed loaders and other things I'd like to see . . .

These are a collection of "I wish they really made that" products from my various coworkers.

From the SWAT doc of a major city: "Geodon speed loaders. Walk in the room, shoot one in the patient and two in the family. Everybody is suddenly happy. Thunk, thunk. Maybe in blow gun form . . ."

From our jail doc: "Prozac in aerosol form. Definitely."

From my shift commander: "Disposable uniforms. This is my second pair of pants today."

From my probie: "Scented N95 respirators, I hate the plastic smell."

From my fire Lt: "Biohazard bags large enough to wrap a patient in, or plastic wrap with that printed on it. Sometimes the hospital deserves to know what they're getting into."

From my intake partner: "Febreeze for humans . . ."

Ideas? Feel free to share . . .

What's stuck in a tree?

When my buddy told this story at first I thought he said they got dispatched to a cat in a tree. What he really said was they got dispatched to a kid in a tree. Slightly confused I asked if the child had climbed up and then been scared to climb back down. Oh, no. He was stuck, in the fork. Apparently this child was what my grandmother would have referred to as "husky."
The firefighters couldn't lift him out of the tree. After using the ever popular chainsaw to remove the offending piece of tree, they couldn't lift him on the ladder. Enter the webbing harness and carabiner. Attach aforementioned harness via carabiner to ladder and lift. Presto, freed child.
Bless his heart at least he was playing outside for the day.

At what point did you deem that appropriate?

So last week I was at a three day training on drug laws. It was not required to wear your uniform during this. My department has a strict policy about what you wear to training. Business casual. Period. Don't ever let a supervisor hear about you or see you in a t shirt, jeans, tennis shoes or other inappropriate items.
Enter the other people. First of all as a female in law enforcement I am hyper aware of how I dress. I don't want people to think I'm a skank, a badge bunny or an idiot. Apparently the other six women didn't get that message. I had to tell one well endowed girl to pull up her shirt, because parts of her anatomy were showing that were illegal. Two others had pants so tight I thought they'd split when they sat down. At least one had inappropriate undergarments that showed through. I did not see one female with a shirt that my supervisor would have approved. Mine would have told me to go home and change, then come back to training and sign my disciplinary action.
Various officers had jeans, t shirts with sports teams and other random things on.
People please. Khakis, polo shirt. Write it down.

Wherever you go . . . there you are

After a union meeting several days ago, that ended poorly to say the least, my coworkers and I came to a conclusion. We can sit around and say "they (the administration) are going to do what they want" and "why bother it won't do any good." OR we could be proactive. I don't really give two hoots if the union shreds my ideas in front of God and everyone. I don't care if the administration laughs in my face. The SO, like any political agency, has its pitfalls. There are days I feel like I'm beating my head into a brick wall every time I try to prove a point. But you know what? I love my job, (for the most part). I dearly love the people I work with, and even some of the people I work for. I trust the Sheriff.
So here's the deal. I have had ideas shot down more times than I can count. But the last time I checked, I didn't get anywhere sitting on my ass. You never know unless you ask, sometimes you might be surprised. And if you never try to change your surroundings, you'll be looking at the same thing forever. So get up off your butt and do something. I don't just mean if your union is in negotiations. I mean make your job a better place. Make a difference in someone's day.

BROTHERHOOD

Miranda angina and other things not to teach your kids . . .

Apparently there is a small percentage of my coworkers that has the same mentality of a five year old. And by small percentage, I mean roughly half.
Much like small children you should not say things around them that you don't want repeated. An all time favorite squad "diagnosis" after calls is "Miranda angina." For the non-public safety people out there let me translate; allergic to arrest. The chest pain has an onset directly after arrest or shortly after arrival at a correctional facility. I wish I could take credit for how amusing that phrase is. I cannot. It belongs to "Words that should be in the EMS dictionary but aren't." A favorite column of mine in JEMS that disappeared.
Enter me sharing this with a few co-workers at the jail. Then imagine my surprise and sudden panic attack upon seeing it written IN A REPORT. What the hell?! I immediately called the misguided officer who typed said report, and told him that was probably not appropriate in a legal document. His argument? "It's in quotes, so it's funny."
Thank God he did not quote me.

It's a joke people. Enjoy it. Try not to get us all fired in the process though . . . There's some things you should just keep to yourself.

I remember . . . Never Forget

This morning as I enjoy the quiet darkness of my neighborhood, I only ask one thing of you today. To say a prayer for those who we lost, those who survive and those who are serving.

The FDNY's 343, the men and women of the NYPD and PAPD. The countless emergency service workers who served at Ground Zero, the Pentagon and in that Pennsylvania field.

Your men and women of the armed services who fight for our country. Those who have come home, those who will never come home. KIA, MIA, POW, you are not forgotten.

For those who wear memorial bracelets, and permanent scars on their hearts.

"Let's raise a glass to those that have passed / Raise them for the finest that we knew / Going Home's been played / And the pipes all put away / Let's hear it for the boys and girls in blue"
- The Moonshiners, Boys and Girls in Blue

I love bacon . . . and could you pass the butter?

Recently, and by this I mean approximately three hours ago; my best friend in intake and I came to a realization. We love bacon. Eggs, grits, coffee with or without cream and sugar, pancakes and butter. Apparently we have an addiction to breakfast food. I mentioned this before in my post titled Bacon and Doughnuts. Now, however I have recruited more people to my side of thinking. Pass the sugar, its been a crappy night. Debriefing sessions in the form of breakfast are now held regularly for mental health.
Luckily for my cardiac health, I have still been working out with my team from the academy. Which is a good thing . . . Alright boys, scoot over; the home fries won't fit on my side of the table. Good eating to y'all, and have a good morning.

Thanks Lt . . .

Occasionally in passing in a post I will mention my all time favorite fire Lt. to work for. This is the man that got me started at my first "real" fire dept., who helped get me my job at the SO and who once saved my life (literally). Labor Day weekend he invited me and some of the boys from the FD to come have a beer at his new house. As we sat on the back deck watching the kids play, there were some reflections.
I have been at this FD for five years, I was getting horribly burnt out for a variety of reasons. My Lt. had the wisdom to temporarily give me up to another unit day with brand new firefighters. Not just any probies, but a girl willing to learn and a guy that catches on quicker than most. I will never know how my Lt. knew that the way to combat my disgruntled and tired self was to give me hope. Hope in the form of probies. Who knew teaching them to cook their first firehouse meal or helping them with the EVOC could change my feelings. I miss working my Lt's unit, but I know why he did what he did.
Two years ago, my Lt. saved my life. I would not have survived without his intervention. You can never repay that debt.
This Labor Day as we sat on his deck and traded stories I thought of all the people I have ever worked for. He is by far one of the best supervisors and leaders I have ever served under.

Thanks for everything Lt.

No you do not have swine flu . . .

As I've mentioned in some of my earlier posts, my department happens to serve the campus of a fairly large university. Apparently, since there have been multiple confirmed cases of swine flu; everybody and their brother thinks they have it.
Case in point: Our squad is dispatched to "female ill" in one of the academic buildings. Of course we are eating lunch, so the engine proceeds to laugh their asses off at us as we leave. Upon arrival we find a girl in the fetal position in the hallway. Assessment reveals vertigo, weakness, nausea, abdominal cramps and the last oral intake was yesterday. Hmmm. My assessment sixth sense along with my law enforcement bullshit meter kicks in. "When was your last menstrual period?" "Uh, right now. Started this morning." Hmmm. "You don't think this is related?" "No, I'm pretty sure I have swine flu."
Are you f'ing serious? (No, I did not say that out loud.)
No fever, chills, sweats or anything else. ER result? Menstrual cramps . . . How 'bout that shit?

Shift Log . . .

Sorry about the delay in posts . . . took the parents on a trip and took my first vacation from the SO in two years. Still on vacation from another week or so, spending most of it picking up extra shifts at the FD. We have a new probie, and she is fantastic. I wish I had caught on so quick . . .
So today's shift has gone two different ways today, depending on who you ask. I had a great time with the probie and my buddy back from when we both worked for rural volunteer departments. The shift commander however, is throwing a fit. We hadn't even hit the twelve hour mark yet and we had already knocked out seven calls. Car v. pedestrian, several fire alarms and two calls to two different trailers . . . for the the same patient. Mix all of this with five or six commercial fire inspections and lunch and we have stayed busy most of the day.

Speaking of fire inspections, here's a professional tip to all of you. The place to store paint is NOT on the shelf beside the fireplace. Yes, we found this. Also the thing NOT to say to the fire inspector is that; "That is the most fucking ridiculous thing I've ever heard of. Why do my fire extinguishers have to be in plain sight in my business. They're ugly. Besides it's not like it's going to catch on fire." WTF?

Protip to all of you college kids on bicycles out there, courtesy of our truck crew and your local police. You have to follow all the same traffic laws as a car in this state. Yes, that means YOU. And if you don't, don't cry when my friends ticket you or cite you in an accident. Also, do not tell the cop, "How the hell am I supposed to know that? It's not like anybody tells you!" Just a suggestion, you might want to go look at that driver's ed book you largely ignored . . . just saying.

High crimes and misdemeanors . . .

Protip to all of you aspiring inmates out there; if you are going to smoke pot . . . do NOT do it in my jail. Yes. This happened. The ironic thing is said inmates waited until five minutes before mandatory standing headcount to do this. WTF? Like I'm NOT going to notice the strong odor of MARIJUANA in my housing unit. Really? I mean, really?
And besides, do you really want to smoke something that some other guy smuggled in the jail in his butt? I'm just saying . . .

PS: We're the Sheriff's Department, there's always a K9 on duty. You can hide it from me . . . not so much from him.

GRADUATION!!!

Yes! It is FINALLY done. No more academy!! Fantastic . . . let the celebration begin. Followed by the sleeping . . .

Here in the real world they're shutting my county down . . .

Two days before my graduation to be a certified peace officer, comes the call we at my department have been dreading. "They started the layoffs today . . . here's who's gone already." While I have enough personnel hired after me that it will have to get ugly to get to me, it doesn't matter. These are my brothers and sisters, men and women with families and houses to pay for. I met my friend from another division outside in the parking lot tonight, turned on John Rich's song "They're Shutting Detrioit Down" . . . and cried. He has two kids, a wife, a house and now no job. Every division of the SO was affected.
What does it say about the state of the country you live in when you can't afford to keep the people who keep you safe?
May the Lord bless and protect those who now don't know what the future holds. Keep my brothers and sisters still working safe from harm now that their backup isn't there anymore.

"May your hope give us hope, may your love give us love . . ."

Jailhouse doctors, rubber cement and you . . .

The final countdown!!! Graduation is next week!! Yay! Then I am officially a real cop . . . who works in a jail. Yeah, I know. Don't rub it in.

So this guy comes in the jail and starts telling me how he diagnosed all his health problems on his own. He obviously did good research, as proven by the following statement: "I have grandma seizures." Right. I'll let her know.

I realize I look young for my age but it's been awhile since I've been carded for alcohol. Consequently I don't always carry my ID in the grocery store. Apparently, this is a mistake. At a national chain who might rhyme with "wall dart," I attempted to buy *gasp* rubber cement. I am in my mid-twenties, in uniform. The clerk's response? "Uh, you're right on the border of looking eighteen. I need to see some ID."
Are you freakin' serious? Really? For rubber cement? While I'm in uniform? Whatever . . .

How was your day?

I definitely have been awake since noon yesterday. I came home after five hours of academy and eight hours of work. Intake and release was slammed. I drank a beer, ate some ice cream with hot fudge sauce and I'm going to sleep.

They wonder why people in public safety have issues . . .

Running down a dream . . .

I have now successfully passed all parts of my lovely physical agility test. Woo Hoo!!! Now less than a month away from graduation. Posts are scarce I realize, but the academy is priority at the moment.
Now aside from the final academic exam and swearing in ceremony, I only have a few more hurdles. One last firearms qualification on my service weapon, off duty gun and possible backup weapon. Rifles and shotguns come later . . . Some random administrative paperwork, and getting all the rest of my equipment issued. Then it's just time to sit and wait in the jail until the next round of promotional interviews from applications. Either that or go find another department. I think I'll stick with the SO for right now, even though it could be a year until the next application period.

Like sarge always tells me; "What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"Uh, sarge? Maybe we shouldn't have said that out loud . . ."

"What are the odds?"

Fun times . . .

I realize this month has been short on posts, but the academy is winding down. T minus five weeks or so!
We just watched a fantastic training film on traffic by the California Highway Patrol. It should have been titled "Erik Estrada: the Later Years." Awesome.
Working some special details this weekend and running a physical agility test. Also fun times.
Back to the excititng world of DUI law . . .

So we've got that going for us . . . which is nice

So after I posted about wanting a quiet night at the firehouse, God laughed at me.

At two in the morning, the power went out to half the city. Followed by the inevitable alarm drops. Followed by a man calling 911 because his air conditioning won't work; because we have no power. Seriously. I can't make this stuff up.

My friend in the comm center texted me with this. "I cannot believe how many f'ing people call the police when the power goes out. Like I freakin know when it will come back on."

Literally all the the comm center did was tell people to call the electric company. Who then argued with the comm center about how they'd been on hold with said electric company for twenty minutes. As if the police department knows who does and who does not have power.

And then we had the "male hallucinating with violent behavior" call. Direct quote from him: "I have done Ecstasy before, and this does not feel like Ecstasy." As if Ecstasy is regulated by the FDA . . .

I love my job.

News from the front lines . . .

So after a vacation at the lake and week or so of pursuit driving, parking and general driving a Crown Vic around I am back. I am happy to report I did not total anything, have it catch on fire or hit anyone. Pretty exciting for me, and probably my instructor.
Quote from my passenger during pursuit turns: "Look out cones!!! Their plastic life just flashed before their eyes."
Almost done with this damn academy. Thank God. I just sat through our mandatory "first aid" section. I felt a little over qualified, and pretty bored.
One of the better moments of first aid was definitely the childbirth video. The guys that got up and left the room will never live that down. . .
Living the dream at the FD tonight, hopefully we're quiet. But you all know better.

Things they never told you about . . .

Call me crazy but I definitely don't remember this scenario being covered in my EMT class. We get dispatched to our favorite state park, because the squad covering it is busy. . .again. By now even the new guy is starting to realize that calls to this place come with their own person brand of craziness.
We arrive for what was dispatched as female in seizures. What we find is a female diabetic who reads 14 on our glucometer. The better part? You know those fifth wheel travel trailers with the bed that is over the hitch? The ones you have to climb up to that have about 3 feet of head room? Yeah. That's where she is. Not to mention it looks like they've packed enough stuff for two months in the wilderness in this camper. I actually think it would have been easier to unpack the trailer and unload her than take her out on the backboard.
We succeeded . . . now we're all headed to the chiropractor.

That sounds familiar . . .

After joining the website "Cops Who Blog," I found this as posted by ENFORCER.

Civilian Friends: Know a few things about you
Police Friends: Could write a book with direct quotes from you

Two of the guys I work with read that and went, "Wait, that's like your "Quotes" section of your blog."

"Yeah, kind of. In fact I could probably quote some things you'd rather not recall."

"Huh. Yeah, hold off on that book . . ."

Really? . . . I mean, really?

So as a nice addition to this post we have the following. A friend of mine parked his cruiser sideways across a two lane road at an injury accident. We landed a medical helicopter in the field beyond. Someone drives around three other cruisers, our fire department staff car, a rescue truck and a tow truck to ask him a question. The question?

"Can you move your cruiser so I can get through?"

As my Sgt. would say, "What are the odds?"

It's the little things . . .

Hot fudge sundaes.
My Van Halen CD.
Family Guy.
Laughing until you cry.
The supervisor you can tell anything to.
Good friends.
Vacationing with the family.
Working at a kids' summer camp.
The "atta-girl" you never expected.
Naps.
Making somebody laugh.

That's not a structure fire . . .

We get dispatched for "fire moving up the side of a building" at a rather large condo complex. Upon arrival we discover no moving fire . . . except two tiki torches out on a patio. Nice.

If I thought you needed to know, I would tell you . . .

There are times in life when you just wish people would mind their own business . . .
Case in point: Last week one of our deputies passed away from an acute illness. I took a day off from the academy to attend the graveside ceremony with the honor guard, pipe and drum corps ect. My instructors at the academy did not feel the need to share the reason for my absence with people from other agencies. As soon as I returned to class I got this: "So nice of you to show up. I guess you think you can just take a day off whenever you want to." There were several variations of this throughout the day.
People here's the thing; it's awkward to have to explain to you why I was absent. Then you're just going to be embarrassed and I'm not really going to want to explain it for the thirtieth time. If you want to ask if everything is ok since I missed a day of class, that is acceptable. Smartass comments are not.

Like your mother told you. Mind your own beeswax.

True friends . . .

How to know someone in public safety is really friends with you:
"I would give you CPR without a mask."

Stop talking . . . no, really.

So some friends and I went to dinner last night to enjoy ourselves before everybody's parade/honor guard details today. I guess we should announce our presence by all being armed, and wearing raid jackets with vests that say "Sheriff" in foot tall letters. That being said, let me introduce you to our waitress.
First of all if you are going to sit at our table with us to take our order, it better be standard in you restaraunt. If you flop down in a chair and start telling us how your life sucks that you had to work a holiday weekend, and your boss is "a fucking idiot;" we might be a little taken aback. After that shock, the night surprisingly got weirder.
Not only did we get some of the worst service ever experienced at an upscale restaurant, we had to call the cops. She would repeatedly disappear leaving various members of our dining party to go to the bar and ask for their dinner/drinks/napkins/ect. When she did come back she felt the need to flop down in a chair and share MORE of her life story.
The made for TV movie version is this: boyfriend with warrants and no license takes her car from restaurant with her permission. Boyfriend is gone 3+ hours. Waitress at one point answers her phone while sitting at our table and proceeds to curse at him loudly. She then informs us he is out securing a drug deal in her vehicle.
We walk outside to leave only to see our waitress in a physical altercation with . . . you guessed it, the boyfriend. While like six of us break up said fight someone else is calling 911. They were gone before the city cops got there. Not before we gave them the plate number and her name . . .

Needless to say, we'll be complaining to the owner and telling him maybe he should get rid of her. She's bad for business. Oh, and he should probably tell her to STFU about illegal activity to customers; especially when they're cops.

Because it's all about you. . .

So on on our last call of the morning, right before shift change, this happens. We pull into one of those poorly marked apartment complexes I so dearly love. The parking set up in this particular one was made for a time before SUVs. The squad barely fits down a narrow aisle, and ends up parking awkwardly at the end of it. While locating the apartment we are searching for, we are accosted by a college age male.
"Just how long do you think you're going to be?"
"Hmm. Depends on why they called 911. We're shooting for less than 10 minutes, more than 2."
"DO YOU THINK YOU COULD MOVE THAT THING?!?!"
"To what are you referring? The ambulance? No. Not so much."
"It's in my way!"
"Oh. I apologize. We'll tell that to whoever called 911 and may be DYING."
"I have to get to work on time!"
"We have to get to the hospital on time. It's an emergency. That's why we have lights."
"You don't understand!!"
"You're right I don't understand why you think you're more important. Get the hell out of my way before we call the cops."
"I'll just move it myself!!"
"And then you'll get arrested."

He did NOT move it. I was almost sorry he didn't get stuck behind us for something lengthy like CPR or childbirth.

The Great Outdoors . . .and you

So perhaps if one was to go camping in say, the woods, at a state park. And one was to wake up with say, itching of the arms and legs. Does this warrant a call to 911?
Yes, apparently. (Did I mention you're camping?)
I'm not a doctor people, but our crew and two rangers took a straw poll. Answer?
Poison ivy. As evidenced by tiny blisters/redness.Thanks for that 300 am squad call. Especially since it's mutual aid for us because the park is packed and squads are tied up on other things. (Alcohol related, I know all of you are shocked.)
Even better? The participants of this fine 911 call already had experienced prior contact with the rangers. Why? Because they were irate no pizza business would deliver back into the primitive camping section of the park . . .

So you've never been to jail . . .

I never thought I would say this, and I realize that it goes against all that is cop. However. I would much rather deal with someone who has been arrested before, than someone who has not. If they're frequent fliers they ask *less* stupid questions. Last night's winner? During lockdown time I got this:

"Uh, ma'am? How do I open my door back up from inside once it closes?"
"You can't."
"Are you bein' serious?"
"*Sigh*"

Oh American justice. . .

Brothers that always have your back . . .

For those of you who are noticing a reoccurring theme in my posts about loyalty/brotherhood; there is a reason or two behind that.
Aside from the unwavering belief that someone should always answer your call for help, there are a few other motives for my life in public safety. One of them is family. I joined the fire service because I wanted a family. Same with the sheriff's department. I love my families. I cry when they cry, celebrate when they celebrate. I hurt when people let the family down.
My fire lieutenant saved my life once. Literally. That is a debt I can never repay. I can only hope to have a positive impact on other lives.

Yesterday I got the best news in a long time. My partner, the brother I never had in real life, is returning. After a brief two year hiatus across the state, he is coming back home. There are not enough words or space here to explain what this means to me. Anyone reading this who has ever been fortunate enough to be assigned with a permanent partner that they like, knows. He is literally the male version of me. I can order for him a restaurants. He can tell what I need during a trauma call before I can. We were inseparable. I'm glad he's coming back home, squad has never really been the same without him.

Welcome home. We'll be in service shortly.

BROTHERHOOD.

Ants go marching . . .

So today after a fabulous dinner with friends, we headed to the city park. One friend is lying in the grass trying to convince our other friend to do the same.
He looks at our friend lying in the grass and goes, "No. I'll get bit by a fire ant."
"You will not."
"Yes I will, I'll lay down directly on top of a fire ant hut. Pueblo. Whatever the hell they live in."

I believe it's actually a Quonset hut . . .

This job is not for the easily offended . . .

I guess after a while in the jail, you become immune to things that would make most people run screaming into the hills. This includes, but is not limited to, any of the following. Naked people, people masturbating in plain sight, blood, urine, feces, vomit, violent assaults, suicide attempts and genuine craziness.
We have an entire unit dedicated to suicidal/homicidal/mentally disturbed persons. Any officer who has ever worked there can pretty much handle anything. Enter our little federal agent guy who comes in to interview an inmate. He walks past one of the "fishbowl" cells designed for suicidal subjects. Naked lady who is not being compliant with her medication is putting on quite a show for all of us. This includes masturbating, dancing naked and generally inappropriate social behavior.
We're not offended, we understand human behavior can be incredibly odd. Federal agent kid freaks the hell out on me.
"WHAT IS THAT?"
"A female inmate."
"I know. WHAT IS SHE DOING?"
"Do I really have to explain that to you?"
"Can't you DO something?"
"Yeah, put her in the psych unit. Oh, wait. You're here."
"Gross!!"
"What did you expect here? Sunshine and lollipops?"

Kind of makes me want to take him out on the squad . . .

American Stupidity . . .

Today I was in the drive-thru of a nationwide fast food chain. My total bill was $6.01. I handed the girl at the first window $20.00 and a penny. She looked like a monkey doing a math problem for a good minute or two. Then she looks at me and goes, "Wait, you get like $14.00 back right?"

Are you serious?

Let's just call a spade a spade . . .

So for those of you who read MotorCop's post about misrepresentation, here's a little spin off piece. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how I know being PC in law enforcement has gone too far . . .

The CAD calls it a "Manufactured housing community" not a "Mobile home park" or *gasp* "Trailer park" on your call location.

"Manufactured housing community?" WTF?!

Rural policing . . .

A recent phone conversation with a friend of mine who is a cop in a very rural part of America.

"Oh God. Now I remember why I didn't want to be a cop where I grew up. I can hear it now. "Hey, we arrested your sister again." Great, let me guess, another meth lab."

"My cousin crashed and the vehicle inventory search turned up enough crap that she got charged with having a mobile meth lab . . ."

Stress indicators . . .

Per my friend you can gauge my stress level by the following:

McDonald's hot fudge sundae: Low stress, short on time
Cup of ice cream from any ice cream store: Low stress, took time to seek out comfort food
Ben & Jerry's single serving cup: Mid level stress, may need a hug
Pint of Ben & Jerry's: Upper level stress, give hug, plate of food and possibly liquor
Pint of Hagen Daz: Probably tears involved, give hug only after approval, hide firearms

Just finished a pint of Ben & Jerry's . . . need hug.

The first rule of firearms . . .

"Listen recruits . . . the first rule of firearms is this: If you accidentally shoot the instructor, YOU FAIL. And for all of you who are laughing back there just remember one thing; we wouldn't have to say that if someone hadn't done it."

Oh God.

"Be careful when you fight the monsters, lest you become one."

It's probably better for everyone involved that I have been slacking on the posts lately. It would have been less humor and more griping. That being said, I feel I must say this.

There are few things in life that hurt me more than when I find out someone I trust or even try to emulate turns out not to be who they seem. I will not bore you with some of the more slightly traumatizing examples of this. However, lately at work this seems to be the trend. One of my formerly favorite sergeants is going to get fired for his off-duty conduct. My former partner from back when I worked the disciplinary segregation housing unit will probably be fired next. My best friend on the department, who I have known since before I became a deputy had to break the news to me.
Sarge is an idiot. His actions cost him his wife, his almost twenty year career and his friends who no longer trust him.
My former partner almost cost an officer his life tonight.
I think back to the "good times" of working the disciplinary unit with him. We would joke and tell stories, we were hired a day apart as deputies. I think of all the times I trusted him to back me up, and I wonder how I survived. Shortly after I was reassigned to the maximum security housing unit, his assignment was permanently changed. The reason was our captain thought he was a bit too chummy with inmates.
I wish our captain was still here. I want to go tell him he was right.
Tonight my former friend and partner placed an inmate above officers. "Friendship" above security. "Kindness" above the law.
My best friend was on the receiving end of his actions. He is the one who was forced to report the security breach.

I find myself reading my favorite Joseph Wambaugh books over again. For those of you who are familiar, they are cop books written by a cop. Where's the Oracle when you need him?

The inmates are not our friends. They are not officers. Never turn your back on your brothers.

Cake please . . .

Sorry it's been awhile, writer's block is a bitch. So is work.

Here's some quotes to brighten your day.

"There's balloons . . . there must be cake. Cake brings everyone together, hell it's the only reason I got married. Let's follow the balloons."

"Jesus I would rather be locked up than sit through the rest of this class. I mean I realize I basically am locked up every night at work, but still. A $500, 000 bond would still be better than this."

It's because I'm a girl, isn't it . . .

The other half stops a car doing 78 in a posted 35. The driver's license has been suspended since the late 90's probably. She has had multiple consecutive suspensions for driving without a license and several DUIs. He also finds she has a warrant. Her response?

"You only pulled me over because I'm a girl."
"Get out of the car. . ."

Bacon and doughnuts . . .

They say you are what you eat. I think I'm screwed. Enter yesterday's post shift "debriefing session" held at the local courthouse eatery before grand jury.
"Sorry to detour the conversation, but I just wanted to let you all know this is delicious bacon."
"Huh?"
"Seriously. Amazing. Bacon."
"Woman what is wrong with you? You just downed bacon, eggs, toast, oj, biscuits and gravy and some form of grits. Are you pregnant?"
"My duty belt is a 30", do I look pregnant? No, I'm not."
"Your eating a damn doughnut too?!?"
"Yes. You're interrupting my moment of doughnut zen. Zip it."
"You're going to be in a food coma during testimony."

The North American Emergency Response Guidebook . . .and you

Are you good with primary colors? Can you locate information in a table? Are you smarter than the book itself? Congratulations! You too can operate the Emergency Response Guidebook!!
Ugh. That was definitely eight hours of my life in the academy I want back. NIMS and HAZ-MAT was boring enough the first time around in the fire service. Only four more to go . . .

"Do you know what the best indicator at a Haz-Mat scene is?"
"No."
"A cop. Send him in with a flare. If he drops over or blows up it's not safe."

(Sorry MotorCop and all my brothers and sisters out there . . . but I couldn't resist.)

Bad days . . .

When I was hired on as a firefighter my chief told me, there will be hard days. When I took the National Registry for EMT class, my instructors told me there will be horrible calls. When I took my oath to serve my county as a deputy, my FTO told me you will see things no one should ever see.
As I sit here at work, I dedicate my shift tonight to a friend of mine. I cannot express in words what needs to be said.

I love you, be safe.

May the Lord bless and protect you all.

Innocent chlidren . . . .

Everybody has walked in that squad call and said "bullshit" to themselves. Not the kind of bs where the patient is faking it, but the kind where the story has nothing to do with the injuries. Unfortunately, when you get that story and it doesn't meet the injuries on a child, it can indicate abuse.
Case in point. 3am. Dispatched for 60 year old male with wrist injury in one of our sections of town you shut off your lights and siren a block away to avoid getting mobbed or assaulted.
Upon arrival find that dispatch apparently was out to lunch, and that the patient is a 6 year old male with rib injuries. (Slightly different.)
Mom says family dog jumped on child, causing him injury. There are no red marks, no claw marks, no paw prints, toys, food bowls, hair or dog anywhere to be found. After several disturbing minutes onscene, I carry our patient down four flights of stairs outside. Let me just tell you that in light of the rest of this call, that made my week. Nothing will ever make you feel like you've earned your pay and you are useful in life like a child. This sweet, sweet little innocent child climbed up in my arms and stayed there. It was a perfect moment in EMS. For about 30 seconds. Until we ask the kid what the dog's name is, and he doesn't answer. And he really isn't clinging to mom, he's clinging to me. And he's in allot of pain for this kind of injury, and now he says it hurts to breathe.
Turned over care to the ED staff with all the information we had. No dog anywhere in the apartment. Scared child in pain. Apathetic mom who's only concern was we weren't going to bill her and make her pay us money. Luckily the doc we drew is also our SWAT medic. He was not born last night. After the CT scan showed internal injuries he called the police. No dog does that, even if you had one to begin with.

Math . . .

The quote of the week when it comes to math problems.

"How did you get that answer?"
"Push equal."

Nice.

Traffic . . . again.

So as much as I love our little traffic enforcement officers, my other half included, it gets old in the academy. Don't get me wrong, but . . .

"You know what traffic reconstructionists are? The chess team of the police department. Nerds."

"Wait . . . what are we taking the square root of again? The drag factor is what? How do you know that? What the hell? If I wanted to do this shit I would have taught math."

You all should know I'm only making fun of you because I'm not good at it . . .

That's not me . . . or my brother

So for all of you who remember this post, here is a fantastic follow up piece. I must warn you, the stupidity will probably make your brain hurt.
This guy comes in for a THIRD time. He lies about his name AGAIN. At this point I'm tired, cranky and just want to eat my damn Twix bar in peace. But, no. Special kid here thinks that for some reason, since I was the officer to call his bluff last time, that he will attempt to lie to me again. Communication skills went directly out the window. There was no get out of jail free card, just "Pass Go and Do Not Collect $200."
I print out his real name, his alias, and all the booking photos I have of him. I slam all of this down on the counter with the polite response of, "Are you f*ing serious?"
"That's not me."
"Oh, really? Let me guess. That's your twin brother."
"Uh . . . no. I've never seen those two guys before."
"Really? Because they're the same damn person. YOU!!!"
"No, that' s someone completely different."
"Seriously?"

I hate stupid people.

Special kid . . .

We've all worked with or sat through continuing education with this guy. He's annoying, a know it all, has no shame and everything he says needs fact checked. He is a special kid. We are blessed with two of these in my academy class. The guy that sits next to me is considering taking barbiturates to put up with them the next Saturday class. I had to confiscate all the sharp objects from our group yesterday before war broke out or people started stabbing themselves in the eye.
The coup de grace yesterday? Sgt. Traffic was talking about clocking bikes and rollerbladers with RADAR and LASER as a joke.
Special kid #1 goes, "Yeah, I've gotten up to 45mph."
Sarge goes, "On what? A luge?!?"
"No, on Rollerblades."
"Hmm. Unfortunately Darwin did not take appropriate action."

Sarge's parting quote of the day: "Listen. You want to be a good cop? Learn to anticipate other people's stupidity."

Things I have learned this week . . .

How to direct traffic. For four hours.

I look dead when I fall asleep sitting up. Or at least that's what I'm told.

No matter how hard I try, I look like a prisoner in all my departmental photos.

Men's uniform pants fit me better.

The probationary firefighter assigned to my Lt. and I is kind of different. I don't think there's a whole lot we can do to change that unfortunately.

If caffeine and chocolate does not fix it, sleep will.

The best thing ever is going to breakfast after work with your buddies to decompress.

You never know what kind of a difference you can make . . .

Greetings! . . . You are now screwed.

Part 2 of Sgt. Traffic's amazing class.

"You rednecks don't have K-9s out there. You probably have a rabid raccoon in your trunk."

"Look. When you get a letter from the courts or the government it should say this: Greetings! . . . You are now screwed."

"Here's a list of some of the more obscure laws for you, break these out when you're so pissed your eye is twitching."

"I had someone ask me to post-date a ticket until after their court appearance for DUI. Seriously."

"NO. They do NOT get a warning for that. If I have to complete THAT much paperwork, somebody is getting a ticket. Press hard, three copies."

"What the hell are you talking about? That's not even in my statute book! If you write somebody for that I will wear you out!!"

"THAT is grounds for a TASER. NOT handholding. I should use it on YOU."

Rollovers, telephone poles and you . . .

An hour before shift change we get toned out mutal aid to assist a neighboring FD with a semi truck rollover because their squads are tied up. Upon arrival we discover one downed telephone/electric pole and another broken off half way up. The semi is lying on its side and the cab is in pieces. No one from the neighboring FD is paying attention to the fact that the cracked pole could break and drop live wires on everyone at any time. We yell at them to get the hell out of the way before we all die, and move the patient to a safe location. We then discover half of the other department's personnel has walked through the diesel leaking out of the truck. What the hell?
It was like everyone on scene took a vacation day and forgot any training/scene safety they had ever learned.
The other genius moment came when our patient started coughing up frothy blood. EMT of the Year candidate (note the obvious sarcasm) from the other FD tells me this . . . "He's fine he just bit his tongue." WTF?! No jackass. He has a hemopneumothorax. Which was confirmed by our assessment, and the ER. He went to the trauma center against EMT of the Year's best protests of, "You guys are so paranoid, he's just a little banged up." Yeah. About that. That's why we had to intubate and assist ventilations en route. Because he's fine. God, I hope this kid never treats me.

Brotherhood . . .

A few years ago just as I had finished my probationary period with the city FD, the city PD's new hiring class finished the academy. Some of those officers and I became good friends. Last night, I would not have wanted to be in a fight with anyone else watching my back but them. My two all time favorite city cops were partnered together last night. Our squad gets called to a female unresponsive, passed out. We arrive onscene to find them there for other unrelated matters. Female is possibly intoxicated, drugged, or just plain CRAZY. She is naked, in someone elses house where no one knows her, with altered mental status.
All is well until we go to load her in the squad and she goes crazy on my partner and I. My two city boys come flying out of the house to see naked girl fighting two female firefighters. Let the jokes begin . . . Well we would have done ok, except crazy girl's friends decided at that time to appear out of the apartment complex behind us. So now we have five or six people charging us. Two cops. Two firefighters. Six or seven crazy drunks. We won. Multiple people went to the drunk tank. Crazy girl got arrested.

We walked away and the cops started to leave, and I thought about something.
"Hey guys, wait up."
"What's up?"
"Thanks."
"No problem."
"No, really thanks. . . You know I love you guys."
"*awkward silence* . . . Yeah, we love you guys too."
"See? It didn't kill you to say that."

BROTHERHOOD

Rules of traffic enforcement . . .

So the traffic Sgt. taught class today, and it was amazing. Hilarious. Here are some of the better moments . . .

"Do you know what you say when someone gives you a lame excuse?"
"No sir."
"Press hard, you're making three copies."

"Do NOT swing a flare around to direct traffic. You're an idiot, and you'll only succeed in lighting yourself on fire. And the grass. And probably your cruiser."

"What is the first rule of car vs. train? The train wins. The second rule? Get your damn cruiser off the tracks genius or you're the next target."

"Has everyone here seen the COPS episode with the cruiser stuck on the tracks? Good. If you do that, I will laugh at you. And then I will write you up and suspend you for 60 days or so. If you do that on national TV, you will no longer work here."

"RADAR IS BORING?!?! Listen here kid, you're going to be doing this for the next 25 years of your life . . . get over yourself."

"It takes a special kind of stupid to blatantly violate most traffic laws, you will be able to recognize it instantly."

"You know what happened to the last person who acted like an idiot during a traffic stop? Their FTO wasn't as nice of a cop as I am.They almost died."

This is your notification . . .

A few days ago I got one of those quality postcards with a guy's picture, address and info letting you know a convicted sex offender lives in your neighborhood. Immediately my neighbors gravitated to me as I walked out of the house carrying my uniform and assorted corrections gear.

"Should we be afraid?"
"What can we do?"
"Was he in your jail, what did he do?"

Sigh.

Ok, here's the deal folks. You know as much as I do. I deal with thousands of prisoners a year. I have no idea where this guy committed his crime, was convicted or served time. He could be from out of state for all we know. All I can tell you is tell your kids to stay away from him, since the card says his victims were children and they were raped. Tell them he's a man who did bad things and run to a neighbor if he tries to talk to them. Tell them to find a police officer, a firefighter, a teacher or a trusted adult. I wish I could give you the answers, tell you to run him out of town, or do whatever it is you want to. I can't.

Sometimes being in public safety isn't all it's cracked up to be . . .

Europe is a continent . . .

So we have these forms in intake that the arresting officer fills out with their prisoner's basic information. One of the boxes is "Country of Birth" another is "Place of Birth." We take paperwork on this guy who has fifteen warrants. Under "Country of Birth" the officer has written "Europe." Ok, ok. So Europe's a continent, but we'll figure it out. Maybe he meant England? Then I look down and realize he's written "USA" under "Place of Birth." What the hell? Either I need to give him a geography lesson, a civics test or an eye exam.

(The guy was born in Germany . . . at least he had the continent right)

Don't use my name . . .

Ugh. Today's moment in awkardness brought to you by job seekers. Let's do a quick PSA for all of you out there . . .
DON'T TELL MY EMPLOYER THAT
A. You know me
B. Are friends with me
C. I recommend you
D. I told you to call
IF NONE OF THESE ARE TRUE

You will know if I am friends with you. Otherwise, steer clear of using me for your own personal gain. Besides, it creates awkward times when I tell HR the truth . . .

Aren't you like, practically a doctor?

That was the question my other half asked me yesterday afternoon when I was done with the academy. Yes, I have a bachelor's degree in community health. Yes, I'm an EMT. No, I am not qualified to diagnose and prescribe.
The problem? He claims to have a sinus infection, so I have him give me all his symptoms over the phone. That being done, I take a quality stab in the dark and buy some DayQuil and some Mucinex. Because "Mr. I'm Never Sick" is probably underplaying his symptoms, I buy some Gatorade and saltines just in case. Upon arrival I discover his claim of a sinus infection is bogus. He's sick as a dog. So after the home health care attempt, I try and pursuade him to go to the doctor. No. Not so much. Not only that, SuperCop thinks that it's ok to go to work. After twenty minutes of argument he leaves, in full uniform, for work. Well that was successful.
Two hours later . . .
Either someone is breaking in or SuperCop came home sick. Oh look. His sarge sent him home. I am rewarded with a glare. To which I respond, "Told you so."

Does no one own a map!?

Argh. This story is actually not funny because some poor, scared guy had to wait probably an hour. However, it is such a cluster I feel the to vent.
Scared guy calls 911 from cell phone because even more scared wife with health problems is having an asthma attack. Cell phone call bounces off a tower in County A. County A either was smart enough to read their map, or they just punted the call. He gets transferred to County B to the south of A, where he actually lives. County B borders us on one side and is infamous for trying to pass off stuff they don't want to us. County B transfers call to County C where we reside. Apparently neither B nor C was smart enough to run the address. County C transfers to my illustrious City. The City also does not look up the address, and sends us.
As soon as the call goes out, I tell the Lt. that's in County B. We go enroute and call dispatch on the cell phone to ask if it is indeed mutual aid as we assume. We get met with a whole lot of "Uh, I don't know." Followed by a lengthy explanation of who called who and tranferred where. They just assumed County B asked us because they are tied up. Fine. Whatever. We're still responding, but it's going to take a little bit.
As we approach the County B/C line the City calls us. "Squad, be advised that this is not in our jurisdiction." (No, really?) "County B is sending a unit, however you are closer. Continue for now." We enter County B and discover that this address is considerably farther away then we thought. We advise the city to call County B and tell them we are NOT closer, continue their squad. County B finally pulls up a map and realizes something. The area there is contracted to a city in County B, NOT to the squad they originally sent to meet us.
We went in service with serious headaches from the idiocy. I hope that poor guy and his wife got their squad. What a disaster.

Where the hell is building "G" . . .

So I mentioned in "Let's remember one key point . . ." about fire alarms and poor building markings. Last night was yet another fine example of this. Also the point I made in the same post about people flagging you down (or not) was proven.
Since I work in a college town, at least ten percent of my shift is dedicated to fire alarms. University fire alarms and apartment fire alarms, most of which are malicious false alarms. We have several complexes that have multiple buildings; some complexes span multiple city blocks. When you have multiple buildings that look exactly alike, you have a problem.
Enter last night's adventure . . . "Respond for the fire alarm/First floor pull station/Building G"
This is a newer complex, so they keep adding on while we keep updating our map books. (Side note 1: The officer in charge of our map books is a little behind.) We head to said complex, and I'm manning the radio/map book in the squad. (Side note 2: We carry airpacks and gear on our squad because our call volume is rapidly outgrowing our number of personnel.) Suddenly I realize "Building G" does not exist on the map. Ok, well, whatever. It must be new, I know my alphabet, it can't be that hard to find. Right? Yeah not so much.
Our station covers a large area, part of which extends beyond the city limits. Thanks to contracts, politics and other problems we have quite a bit of rural area to cover. This complex is out far enough that it has its own streets, kind of like its own housing development. The elusive "Building G" is on its own street, not accessible from the street the engine turned down that had "Building F," go figure. . . So the few college students who have bothered to evacuate for the alarm are staring at us, from the other street, quiet for once in their life. Awesome.
So back to my original point, there are NO exterior markings on these buildings visible from the street to denote what is what. The only markings are on the entrances, by the door, about the size of a 5x7 card. Yeah, good luck with that. Hey Lieutenant, hand me the binoculars . . .

That's my brother . . . Part 2

For those of you who read the earlier post about imaginary twin brothers, here's one about real brothers.
A traffic unit pulls over a vehicle and runs the name and DOB given by the driver. Much to the driver's surprise the cop immediately arrests him. For felony warrants. The guy freaks out and starts telling the cop he gave his brother's information because he, the driver, has warrants. The irony? The warrants that he wanted to hide were misdemeanors, not felonies. So after identifying him by his social security number and photograph, he still gets arrested.

Bonus: The warrant squad arrested his brother several hours later.

Traffic is overrated . . .

A quote from a friend of mine in the academy, "Well that detour was awesome, it took so long I now need an oil change."

"The left lane is for passing, the right lane is for YOU."

"I think people should have to write an essay on what a four way stop is and how to proceed at one. I also think there should be a second essay on why you need to treat a traffic light as one during a power outage."

"People, please. It's called maintaining the flow of traffic. Slow people on the right, be expeditious in your turn and don't do stupid shit."

CVSA fun . . .

A friend of mine took a CVSA (computer voice stress analysis) for the city to move from part time to full time firefighter. He is the definition of Type A personality. He is also the most anxious person EVER. He called me almost in tears with this . . .
"It told me I beat the wife that I don't have!!!!"
Poor kid . . . he had to go talk with the fire chief. But he still got the job at least.

I don't get paid to do that . . .

This morning in intake/release we were cleaning up breakfast trays when this transpired. One of the newer guys looks at me and goes, "Where the is the trustee who collects these? I'm going to call the kitchen and tell them to send his ass down here."
I managed to keep my head from exploding. Somehow. I took a deep breath, and said . . . "Are you serious? Are your arms broken, or are you really that lazy?" He looked directly at me and said,"I don't get paid to do that shit."
Really?

Let me tell you what I DON'T get paid to do. I started my career as a volunteer firefighter, I didn't get paid to risk my life. I don't get paid to get thrown up on during squad runs. I don't get paid to have urine and feces thrown at me by inmates. I don't get paid to go through the police academy to take on more risks. I don't get paid to talk to suicidal college kids at four in the morning. I don't get paid to have nightmares about calls I've been on.

I get paid to uphold the laws of the United States Constitution and the laws of my state. I get paid to protect lives and property. I get paid to deliver high quality emergency medical care. I get paid to provide adequate care and safety for the prisoners entrusted to me.

God help me if I ever do ONLY what I am paid to do. You cannot pay someone to be compassionate, have empathy or understanding. No amount of money can buy loyalty, integrity or honesty.

Never forget how many have died for simply going to work and doing their job; whether or not they got paid to do all of it.

BROTHERHOOD.

The blue light . . .

First, go read MotorCop's blog about the Oakland officers.

Now, after reading that earlier it reminded me about something I read before I was in law enforcement. http://www.officer.com/web/online/Editorial-and-Features/Project-Blue-Light-Remembers-Fallen-Officers/19$27409
I have that blue light, it is a little light sensitive LED one I got cheap at Wal-Mart. Every time I shut my lights off to go to work at night it comes on. For me it serves a dual purpose. One, it reminds me of the friends I've buried, and the ultimate sacrifice of so many of our brothers and sisters. Two, it reminds me that I never walk alone. Even in the darkness that blue light burns bright. In the blackest times I can reach out to my brothers and sisters.

Always tell your friends and family you love them. I hug people, and I end many a phone conversation with "I love you buddy."

Heroes Live Forever.

Get out of my scene . . .

We've all had those people who show up on our scenes and annoy the hell out of us . . .

"But I'm a lifeguard!"
Does this look like a freaking pool?! NO!! It looks like head trauma secondary to a fall. You're drunk, in my way and probably haven't been a lifeguard since junior high school. LEAVE.

"But I'm an EMT! You can't get sued if I help you!"
WHAT?!? Do you know how many times WE get sued?! Shut up. This is a college town, you're probably an EMT halfway across the country. You have no idea what our protocols are, and you're in my way. And your drunk. LEAVE.

"I'm CPR certified!"
Good. So am I. By a higher entity than the American Red Cross six years ago in your health class. Go sit with the lifeguard. This guy has a cut finger, he's not in cardiac arrest. You're probably drunk too. LEAVE.

The worst thing I ever had happen on a call as far as bystanders was a very intoxicated MD who claimed he worked in the ER. His wife passed out while walking and struck her head on a set of concrete steps. He wouldn't let go of her or allow us to backboard her or place a c-collar on. He kept telling us he was a doctor and his wife was fine. He had to be arrested by the cops. We later found out she had a skull fracture, brain bleed and she had fallen secondary to a stroke. She was transferred to a major trauma center. I don't care who you are, if you're drunk get out of my scene.

Personal brands of craziness. . .

So here's the next fun call of the night, out of ten or twelve. Dispatched for a female patient, possible asthma attack. As soon as we pull up the address on the MDT the Lt. goes, "You have got to be shitting me." Said address is what we call a frequent flier, one of those obnoxious people who call 911 for EVERYTHING. Oh, and did I mention NOTHING is ever a true emergency. So the probie and the guy who lost rock, paper, scissors get the squad. The rest of us stand at the truck and laugh our asses off. She is NOT having an asthma attack when we get there, she is yelling at a cop. She's telling him how someone has copyright infringed on her thoughts. Now people, I'm not talking about her ideas for something. She means her actual THOUGHTS in her head. No joke, I can't make this up. So after dealing with her personal brand of craziness the probie, who looks like a scared kid, herds her into the squad. As soon as she tries to climb in, instant "wheezes."
For those of you not in the medical field, wheezes are LOWER lung sounds. If you try to fake them you get UPPER sounds, like stridor or something equally obnoxious. By now probie is looking at Lt. and I and silently screaming "SAVE ME" with his eyes. We pull him aside, "Look we've all dealt with her, now it's your turn." She is still attempting to fake wheezes, poorly. Probie starts questioning her on past history, meds ect. Fake difficulty breathing ceases. Nice. Apparently the hospital report went something like this: "Enroute with a female who states she is having difficulty breathing. Vitals are stable, no obvious signs of respiratory distress. Pt. is able to hold a conversation without difficulty." The ER discharged her before we had the electronic report finished on the MDT.

"We don't save lives, we just postpone the inevitable."

I fought the door and the door won . . .

So we get called to a male pt. who has headbutted a glass door as a dare, and lost. And I don't mean lost the dare, I mean the door won. We get there and he is holding a towel to his forehead. His buddies are flipping out. "Oh my God, it's GUSHING!!!" "It's like a fountain or something!"
So I pull off the towel, fully expecting to see the laceration of the year. Instead, by some random act of God, he's fine. No joke. The cut is like a quarter of an inch long. Maybe. How in the hell he managed that is beyond me. It has completely stopped bleeding. In fact the truck officer went, "So where is it?" The kid insisted on going to the hospital, where we had a repeat. "So where exactly is the cut?"
College Kids 1, Darwin 0

Hillarious . . .

A friend just sent me an email with this . . .
"I'd tell you to go to hell, but I work there, and I don't want to see you every day."

We once decided in the jail that we had died and that we were stuck in purgatory. But I feel that that quote is classic.

Oh Florida . . .

http://www2.tbo.com/content/2009/mar/20/201656/emergency-responses-too-fast-so-pinellas-plans-cut/news-metro/

Read that and tell me your brain doesn't hurt. I wish OUR problem was response times that were too fast . . .

A girl's gotta eat . . .

So I'm walking into fire headquarters to see a buddy of mine on his unit day; and I'm carrying in my dinner after the academy. I have a grilled chicken sandwich, fries AND a burrito from Chipotle. Along with a Diet Coke. Insert smartass comments about: "Diet? With all that?" "Hungry?" and "Why don't you dump mayo and sour cream on that too?"
Here's the thing boys, when my ass is the size of the ladder truck you can talk. When you can run your mile time trial with me in less than seven minutes, come see me. Ok?

Flying cocaine . . .

Here's one for you. A friend of mine responds to a reported accident with injuries. Upon arrival he finds a female intoxicated but not injured outside the vehicle. After the field sobriety tests, he places her into custody. She throws something, which bounces off of his cruiser and smacks another officer in the chest. That something is . . . you guessed it, COCAINE!!
Her answer? You guessed it, "That's not mine."
Are you serious? What the cocaine fairy is just flying around?

Flag on the play . . .

Addition to the idea of holding up plastic cards . . . penalty flags. Admit it, you've wanted to throw one. Probably at someone. Just think of how much fun that would be . . .

"Flag on the play. Arresting officer to be penalized thirty minutes from time of arrival at the jail for being an ass to the jail staff."

"Flag on the patient. Patient to be penalized by transport to the twenty four hour urgent care (read: slowest and smallest hospital in our jurisdiction)"

My dog will bite you!

Ok. Well, maybe not so much with that. One of our illustrious K-9 officers sent his dog after a male subject with felony warrants, who ran from an injury accident after driving drunk. Excuse me, he was "allegedly" drunk. (Happy now Sarge?) When said K-9 found said alleged law breaker, he grabbed him by the neck. As my favorite patrol deputy said, "It wasn't so much a bite, more he gummed him half to death." Perhaps it's time for Kujo and his partner to retire; this isn't the first time the dog has not produced the desired result.
Said alleged law breaker was brought to our facility for "safekeeping." Upon arrival I had the following wonderful conversation with the deputy.
"So did the dog bite him?"
"He's fine." (Said through clenched teeth)
"Uh, ok. That doesn't answer my question."
"Look, he was checked by the medics and he refused. You can check him again if you want."
"Ok. So . . . did the dog bite him?"
"NO. It's more of a series of scrapes. OK?!"

Ok. Don't get me wrong, I love K-9s. Eventually I would like to be a handler with a dog. But your dog is only as good as you train him to be. Lazy handler = lazy dog.

A bit of explanation on the title of this post. It comes from some random episode of COPS. My dad and I live in different parts of the state, but we both watch COPS. He called me one night after this episode and said the best part was the guy yelling "My dog will bite you!!" Ever since then that phrase has shown up in voicemails, emails and random places. So that title's for you dad.

Oh my God . . . Stop already.

I am holding up my invisible plastic cards in the academy right now. We've passed all the colors, I'm now throwing out the black card. At what point is it ok to argue with the instructor over EVERY test question? Yes, there may be an answer that is up for debate. There are not one hundred up for debate. STFU and deal with it.
Being a whiny ass and challenging every question because you don't agree with it is NOT going to make you a better cop. If you have an intelligent question, fine. Otherwise, once again, STFU.

Sorry, I apologize. The Diet Coke and lack of sleep are getting me.

Oh, and it's MDT not MTD. Acronyms people, acronyms. They STAND for something.

Perhaps this would be a good time to fake my own death . . .

Sigh. I think I should get colored plastic cards on a key ring to hold up at various times. Here, let me explain. The red card would be the "bullshit" card. As in, "You are NOT having a seizure, you're faking it. I call bullshit." The green card would be, "You can take it from here." You know, when your partner is on a roll with a patient or prisoner and you're loving it. The yellow card would be the "DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!" This is for people not smart enough to realize the patient/prisoner/supervisor is going to KILL them if they don't STFU. The final card, the black "card of death" would represent the point of no return. This card would mean that the atmosphere is now so completely polluted with stupidity there are only two choices. One, slap the person unconscious. Two, fake your own death.

Useful in many situations in all professions . . .

Saw drunk . . . arrested same

I have been hearing this line now for two years. I never got it until the other night. "Buck Savage" and the Arizona Department of Public Safety have now enlightened me.
I get it now boys, I get it.

Now if we could only write, "Saw stupidity in progress . . . arrested same."

Please sir may I have another . . .

Wow. I keep forgetting that the downfall of being proactive in the jail is ALOT of court overtime and very little sleep. I just got my paperwork for two cases this week. One involves me finding schedule one drugs on someone during a search and one involves me stopping an assault on my partner. Fun times.
All you veteran road cops and disgruntled firefighter/medics with two hours of sleep today and six cups of coffee are rolling your eyes. I know, I know. "Damn kids. Been there done that. Just wait until you're out of the jail. . ." Except I want to be whiny for a second. Between getting off of work in the morning and getting to the academy before four or so, I get NO sleep. And court is going to take forever . . .
Ok. I'm done. I'll suck it up and stop whining.

That's my twin brother . . .

So here's a tip for all of you. If you're going to lie about your identity, don't get brought to the same jail that booked you in the last time. And if you feel the need to do that, don't lie to the same officer that booked you in. If you choose to ignore that fine warning; own up to your lies when I confront you.
I walked out into the receiving sallyport to do a transport and saw the state police with their prisoner. I looked right at the cop and said, "He's been here before." The prisoner gets this deer in the headlights look and goes, "Who me?" No, the cop. The cop is like, "Are you sure?" No, I'm lying to you.
Long story short as soon as our "alleged" lawbreaker tells the cop his "name" I call bullshit. I thought about it for a minute, ran a master search, and pulled up his actual name. I then printed a nice five by seven booking shot, handed it to the state cop and went "Are you sure that's his name you just wrote on your paperwork?"
Needless to say I kind of ruined their night. They don't like getting shown up by corrections officers, especially girls. In the photo are several distinctive scars and marks. The prisoner's explanation? Wait for it, wait for it . . .

"That's my twin brother." That's the best thing you can come up with? Seriously? When asked how his brother would have gotten the same scars in the same places . . . "We're twins, we were born with them . . ."

The definition of what is NOT an emergency . . .

Please, this is a PSA on what you should NOT call 911 for.

1. An earache when you have a cold, and the ER is four blocks away.

2. Chronic knee pain you have had for more than five years . . . in the middle of a snow storm that has knocked out the utilities and dumped more than a foot of snow.

3. To have the fire department change the light bulb in your oven. (Actual call, no joke)

4. An anxiety attack you had two hours ago and are over, when you have a history of anxiety.

5. To ask why your smoke detector is beeping intermittently. (Hint: Change the battery)

6. To ask what that strange sound is. (The water softener going through its cycles)(Also not a joke, actual call)

7. Because you think you might have any of the following: flu, cold, sinus infection . . .

8. For a cut or abrasion that I have to ask you where it is becuase I don't see it on my initial survey . . . because it's that small. And it quit bleeding before you called.

9. Because your DOG had a seizure.

10. Because your neighbors' lawn clippings are on your driveway . . .

CEUs are overrated and other myths . . .

And by overrated I mean I would have gotten a heck of alot more sleep had I remembered to turn in my crap, er continuing education, to the department of public safety. But no, I had to do it the hard way. My reward? Three hours of sleep yesterday before four hours of police academy and eight hours of work. I'm just now going to bed today and I'm getting up at 2:45. This should end well.
Never mess with the department of public safety. You could end up taking a firefighting exam on stuff you haven't seen in five or so years. But I got an 80%. So chief isn't going to kill me. Yet. This shift at least. Thank God all my EMS stuff is current . . .

MEDIC!!

For some reason when people call for a medic in the jail on the radio they feel the need to scream like someone is dying. Occassionally this is the case, the other ninety eight percent of the time it is not. Screaming "MEDIC!!" on the radio because some inmate just told you the toothache they've had for seven days is still hurting, is not warranted. I guess this just annoys me because I work on a squad and I have a little clearer picture of what is and is not imminent death. My fellow corrections officers however, may need a little bit of a first aid refresher.
The medics employed in the jail have come to realize that if I call for a medic, someone is dying. Some of these guys work on neighboring departments, so we're pretty good about working with each other. They've also come to realize if they need a spare pair of hands during a jail incident, that I can be sort of useful.
Case in point: chest pain during tray pass. I was a "floater" amongst housing units yesterday (this morning, whatever) providing breaks, doing transports and general gopher work. I was monitoring med pass with the medics to assure no insulin needles went AWOL when we heard the dreaded "death call." "MEDIC!!" After a lengthy radio conversation, it was determined I would go with one medic to the other end of the jail for "chest pain" while the other medics did med pass. Upon arrival we found a male in his early thirties with chest pain. Not especially troubling except for the prior history of cardiac problems and surgery. Crap.
So since he's maximum security I shackle him, bellyband him and transport him to the medical housing unit with the medic. After vitals were taken, 12 lead performed and all the other stuff completed the jail doc came in. General consensus? Call a squad. Great. The city fire department already hates us, and they had already been there twice that night and once to another facility. Just before the squad gets there one of the medics who is my friend goes to start an IV. The guy flips out and then passes out. Nice. And urinates all over. Even better. So by the time the guys from the bus roll in with their buddies from the truck, this guy looks like he's at death's door.
The medic and I just look at each other. The guys from the squad are like, "Wow. He's pale, diaphoretic, non-responsive and he's urinated." Well, yes and no.

Let's remember one key point . . . you called me.

I used to think that this phenomenon was restricted only to college dorms, however recent events has clearly proven it is not. One of my all time favorite things is when you roll up with the truck behind you and maybe a cop or three . . . and no one knows why you are there. No one. There are random people milling about, perhaps a small crowd and no caller. Just alot of blank stares when multiple uniformed personnel start asking, "So who called? What's the problem? Who's hurt?" It's either feast or famine. Either forty five freakin' people are flagging you down like you're trying to land on a storm tossed aircraft carrier, or you hear NOTHING. And usually you're getting flagged down to the painfully obvious; like the fully involved structure at 1400 hrs with smoke showing for miles. Thanks. Saw it. From seven blocks away.
This is becoming more and more common when we get dispatched to the "possible intoxicated subject lying on the ground." It's also becoming annoying in those gigantic apartment complexes that have letters for building names. Oh, and those letters are NEVER clearly marked but that's a post for another day about fire alarms and poor landscaping.
So let's return to the title. Let's not forget YOU called ME. I'm not psychic. You need to tell me why I'm here. And where you are.

Fun times . . .

411 and 911 are NOT the same thing. I'm just saying. And I would REALLY like to know what in the hell goes through peoples' minds before they call the jail. Did they print our damn phone number in the front under the heading: "Don't know who else to call? Call us!" For those special few people who do NOT call 911 for stupid things like Burger King being out of lemonade or McDonald's being out of chicken nuggets; there is a whole other category. These people call the jail, or dispatch, who punts them over to the jail all night.
We have become the non-emergency, but I think it's an emergency, but I need legal advice, but he has warrants hotline of the whole damn county. The one that made my blood pressure go up the fastest was during a massive power outage. "Can you tell me if John Q. Public Schools are open today?" Lady, are you kidding me? IT'S A JAIL!! Hell, I'm not even sure if we have court tomorrow right now.
My other pet peeve is when people call to see if we are holding someone, the answer is no, and then the fun starts.
"Well he was arrested an hour ago! Where could he be?"
"Arrested, pulled over or just detained?"
"Arrested!!"
"By what department?"
"I don't know!"
"Where was he arrested at?"
"I don't know!"
"Ok, well this is a large county with multiple jails and departments. You may want to try somewhere else."

The even better part is when some well meaning police department in our county or an adjoining one pulls the "They're going to county" stunt. This is where said alleged law breaker is arrested by someone other than the SO and the arresting officer tells the loving family "They're going to county." What said officer fails to mention is the following.
1. Depending on policy, procedure and fresh charges they may have to be processed by that agency first.
2. They have to wait until we can free up a road patrol unit or a transport unit to meet them if they are not bringing them to us.
3. If they ARE bringing them to us, they have to free up a unit.
4. Sometimes they just pull stuff out of their butt.

So we've got that going for us, which is nice.

You've got so much love in you . . .

Sometimes the only thing that makes work bearable is your friends. A riot could happen, the city could burn down, we could have ten CPR runs; with the right people it would be ok. PT is even bearable with your brothers.
You've got to have the right people, the right amount of humor, sarcasm and support. It's tough to find the right mix and the right people. When you do, keep them. Our shift at the firehouse has been together for five years, with the exception of one person. I can't even begin to tell you what a rarity THAT is especially at our department. Everyone knows just exactly what everyone else will do during a call. If you want to shift trade you have to get it approved by the shift Lt. first. He only lets certain people substitute. We get a little cranky with change, and Lt. has a short fuse.
When they changed our schedules at the jail they split three shifts into four platoons. Our entire shift with the exception of a few people bid the same platoon. I guess we don't like change there either. Unfortunately our Sgt. did not come with us, and the three that we are stuck with are not used to the "family." Even though the whole shift is together, without good leadership our morale is in the toilet.
The academy follows the same lines, if you get stuck in a group project choose your partners wisely.
I love my brothers.

I thought we had hiring standards . . .

Sometimes the people I work with make me wonder if we actually have hiring standards or if we just put an ad on the internet. I feel that said ad would have gone something like this:
"Do you have a pulse? Do you breathe? Do you want to wear a uniform? Hire out at your local fire department and/or sheriff's office!!"
Seriously, I'm not claiming to be the brightest crayon in the box; but I at least make it into the burnt orange section most days.
Some examples from the last week that make my brain hurt.

At the jail, someone typed the inmates' cell numbers and then put the attorneys' names on the court docket instead of the inmates to be called for court. Now I realize most people think attorneys are crooks, but that's a little excessive.

When looking for coverage, a new firefighter hit "reply all" to an email from the fire chief and then typed his email. Only problem is it wasn't just our department's listserve. It went to half of the county sheriff's office, the EMA and part of the health department. Nice.

People who cannot spell in reports (fire/EMS/police) and then do not use spell check on the electronic version. It's there, use it.

People who attempt to use phrases and then fail miserably. Example: "It was eye shocking" followed by "It was an eye awakening experience." What?

Two hours of my life . . . I hope I saved yours

The fire department I work for serves a college campus. That being said, every shift I work that falls on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday deals predominately with alcohol.
We get sent to student housing for "possible seizure." Well, since we had already had an earlier seizure call, and our shifts tend to follow trends, we weren't surprised. So getting there we find this kid completely alert, no postictal state, nada. He also has the most bloodshot eyes I have seen in a while. Hmm, it's getting clearer.
I distract the university cop by having them help my partner haul the cot to the third floor and ask the one question that gets to the heart of the issue. "So what did you take?"
"Uh . . . nothing."
"Right"
"Uh . . . pot. For the first time."
"Ok. And?"
"Uh . . . liquor."
"Ok. And?"
"Uh . . . Adderall."
"Ok. That's not prescribed to you is it?"
"Uh . . . No."
"Did you snort it?"
"Well . . . not the Adderall. I snorted the Oxycotin. This was about seven hours ago."
"I see, that explains a few things."

Long story short, the kid probably didn't have a seizure. What he did have was a serious need to talk and have someone listen to him. This kid had a lot going on in his life, enough to maybe want to kill himself. So my partner and I called dispatch, told them we'd be in service but remaining on the scene. Two hours later, at almost seven in the morning, we left. We left him in the custody of the university police, because he didn't really need to be alone. I hope we made a difference. I don't know. Some people need to reach for the life preserver, but you don't need to drown giving it to them. We're not qualified to give him advice or treat him in that arena; but I am qualified to listen. He needed that. We needed to listen. I hope he gets the help he needs and uses it.

Luckily the only two other calls in that two hours were the other squad's problem.

Don't think the chief didn't have something to say to us though . . . "You guys finally done with the Kumbaya and s'more session?"

Randomness

Just go with it ok?

In reference to pursuit policies: "Chase him to the river!! Hell, go get a boat ready and chase him UP the river!!"

In reference to me locating heroin on a prisoner: "That's not mine!! He searched me before we came in!! You put it there! If it was mine I would have thrown it under the cruiser seat and you would have never found it!!" "Yeah well, it's still a felony. Shut up."

What my partner wanted to put in a patient narrative for an incredibly intoxicated and horribly obnoxious female: "CRAZY B****. NO CHANGE DURING TX."

My Sgt. in reference to a prisoner: "Go hand deliever her to her family. Now. Before we get sued or something else stupid happens."

In reference to interrogation techniques: "So how's the weather?" "Yeah, I killed that guy."

Quote of the year . . .

From my brothers that work in the neighboring county during the drug law section of the academy . . . (and don't ask why we were talking about deep frying turkeys in February)

"I would rather deal with a small, rolling meth lab than attempt to deep fry a turkey"

Awesome.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Some sayings from work that amuse me . . .

Quit driving like you have warrants!!

Stop sucking on it!

Do have anything that will poke me or stick me? Any drugs, guns, knives, hiding Osama Bin Laden?

Why us? Why now?

OUTSTANDING!!!

Just because it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, doesn't mean it's a duck. It might be a felony.

"Sir could you step out of the car and show me some ID?" Who me? "NO the freaking oak tree."

Why do they always have to be on the third floor?

WHAT IS THAT?!?!?!?

Big white box. Big white box with lights. Jesus Christ will you get the hell out of the way!!

Control your explorer, er your probie, what ever he is. Now. Before I find Ritalin in aerosol form and apply it to him.

"Do you want to tell me how you got a Social Security Number if you were born in Guam?" Uh, Guam is a US territory genius.

Perhaps this would be a good time to fake my own death . . .

It's times like this, even in our profession where you have to ask yourself, "What are the odds?"

On our way to the academy it all became so clear . . .

Or so I thought . . . Fun times going to the academy and then working thirds, getting about 4 hours sleep and doing it all over again. Total BS. But worth it.
Our schedules are changing in the jail. I hate change. Hate it. Hate it. But I will get over it, and I usually like the end result eventually anyways. This time it might be good. They are mixing everything up. Which is nice, I'm actually a little excited. So maybe I don't hate it.
Start your day with a new IA / do dah, do dah / The cops will pay while the inmates play / do, dah, do dah. Sorry, my bitterness is showing again. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to work in an agency that assumed you were innocent until proven guilty. Not "Hey this guy said xyz, so explain yourself. Oh, and bring your union rep. Oh, and by the way we're reassigning you. Oh, and we're reprimanding your supervisor." HE HIT ME FIRST!!!!! (The preceding scenario while based on actual events luckily does NOT involve me.)
There are days when I want to answer the phone "XYZ County Jail, Officer Doe speaking, WE'RE A LITTLE F'ING BUSY RIGHT NOW!" Nothing like trying to book new inmates, deal with trustys, try and find your supervisor so you can transfer them a call AND release people. All while wondering where in the world everyone else assigned to intake and release has disappeared to. I'm convinced there is some kind of black hole that eats intake officers and spits them out hours later. Either that or I work with the masters of work avoidance. But really, what are the odds of that?

Knocking on heaven's door . . .

Recently I was appointed to the SO's honor guard and it left me with some thoughts. I once saw an emblem for an honor guard that said "the last to let you down." How true. I hope that I can always be the officer that I wanted to be before I saw everything through the eyes of a tired cynic. I hope I can always be the officer that my brothers and sisters rely on and come to in their time of need. And although I hope it never happens; if I have to be there in their final moments, I hope they understand that no one goes alone.
I have several memorial bracelets that I wear to remind me that there are those who gave their lives in the pursuit of that which they believed in. The police academy starts this week, hopefully at the end I will be assigned somewhere not named the jail. Corrections has been a learning experience, but I need bigger pastures to roam.
When I am tired and I want to give up I always think of several people. Some of them have given the ultimate sacrifice in the performance of their duties. They are firefighters and police officers who now watch over us from above. Some of them I worked with, some of them I never knew personally. The rest are my brothers and sisters still with me in my duties. These are the men and women who have carried me, when I have been to weak to stand, saved my life and walked beside me throughout my career. Several COs at work have asked me why I want to give up seven months of my life to go to the academy when I could become a jail sgt. or lt. The answer to me is simple; so many gave so much, surely I too can give something.

"Alleged" law breakers and other things I snort derisively at.

My all time favorite Sgt. is infamous for the use of the word "alleged" at work. Sarge's comments about "alleged" drug dealers and "alleged" law breakers are some of the only things that make the night bearable.
I swear if I have to hear one more "I'm innocent, the cops trumped up the charges" story this week I'm going to pull my hair out. Look, I don't really want to book you in. The cop that brought you here is seriously annoyed because we're busy and he's waiting in line. We both have better things to do than charge you with random things that we have to look up section codes and do paperwork on. Believe me, even if doing better things only means eating our 4am dinner in peace.
Tonight one of my illustrious coworkers decided that it was mean that we have an inmate isolated and on administrative segregation. Her reasoning? "I don't think he understands what he does, he must get really agitated in that cell all by himself. He only gets to come out an hour a day and he doesn't have anyone to talk to." Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Perhaps our friend should have thought of that before he assaulted a CO and turned into an assaultive idiot that threatens to kill us every shift. Excuse me Sarge, "alleged" assaultive idiot.
Sometimes I just want to come home from work, shut off my phone, sleep all day and do nothing all night. Wait, who are we kidding here? That's every day. In fact, I think that's what I'm going to do now.