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 . . .