Saturday, May 30, 2009

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.
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.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

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.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

True friends . . .

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

Monday, May 25, 2009

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.