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)