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Thursday, August 12, 2004 Cops DO Have A Sense Of Humor!
The "thin blue line" denotes the brother/sister-hood of police officers that are on duty "to-protect-and-to-serve." Having been given an opportunity to cross that blue line and become privy to many of the things that most people never see, I have plenty of stories I could tell. But, most I never will, because that was part of the trust and honor I received when I was allowed to cross that proverbial line. But, the story I am about to tell is one that is worth telling, just for the humor of it all. Back before the latest in modern technology filtered down to the smaller municipalities, our police department was still either tethered to the 2-way radio in the patrol car, or carrying the huge 2-way walkie-talkie type radios when they exited the car. And, back-in-the-day, there was a lot of, shall-we-say, extracurricular activities among many of the officers, both on and off-duty. One officer in particular, let's call him Bert* had a favorite lady who catered to his two most desired activities - food and sex. On one occasion, Jan* called dispatch and left a message for Bert. When dispatch asked him to switch channels for a message, a couple of the other officers switched to the other channel as well. They heard dispatch give Bert a land-land number to call and they all recognized it as Jan's number. When Bert called Jan, she asked if he wanted to meet for a picnic and a little afternoon delight. Of course, Bert (a portly sort) was never one to turn down food or sex, so he was immediately up for both. He told Jan he would meet her at their special spot in half an hour. Jan packed her picnic basket and dashed off in anticipation of another sweaty rendezvous. As Bert was arriving, he called dispatch with a code seven, meaning he was taking his lunch break. He then casually tossed the microphone over into the passenger seat when he rounded the corner and saw Jan's car waiting for him. Jan bounded out of her car, over to the patrol car, with her picnic basket in hand and jumped into the front passenger seat. After a quick kiss and in the midst of a brief chat, Jan began to bring out all she had prepared for lunch. She leaned over and placed a sandwich on Bert's leg, and had turned to pull out more food when the sandwich fell from Bert's leg onto the floorboard of the patrol car. Bert reached over, picked it up, and proceeded to raise it to his mouth. To which, in horror, Jan shouted, "You're not going to put that nasty thing in your mouth, are you?" As soon as the words had left her lips, Bert looked down and saw the green light on his 2-way radio was illuminated. When Jan had gotten into the car and sat on the microphone, she had inadvertently "keyed" the mike. The entire conversation had been broadcast across that channel, picked up by every other patrol car in that sector. Horror, panic and total embarrassment filled Bert down to his toes, and he immediately shouted at Jan, "Say sandwich, dammit! Say, SANDWICH!" Of course, cops are notorious for "ragging" on someone when they have something embarrassing to hang over their head. Poor Bert suffered the cruel teasing for months, with his fellow officers eager to share the story with all of their friends (which is how I came to be privy to all the details). A few months later, when Bert thought the whole ordeal had finally died down, he managed to add insult to injury that would live on in stories for years to come. Bert received a call from dispatch and, when dispatch asked him to switch channels for a message, a couple of the other officers switched to the other channel as well. Again, they heard dispatch give Bert a land-land number to call and they all recognized it as Jan's number. They had been planning this for weeks and, now, it seemed the plan was finally going to come together. Six officers were going to pull the ultimate shrek on Bert and had all their secret codes calculated far in advance, so that no one would know what they were talking about when they were keeping in contact via the police 2-way radio. The first step was to pinpoint Bert's location. So, one of the officers called for a Sector twenty report, which requires all patrol cars to call in with their car number and current location. Once they knew where Bert was, one officer was sent to keep tabs on him and keep the other officers informed of his movements by the predetermined codes. The officer found Bert at a pay phone, presumably calling Jan to arrange the rendezvous. When Bert headed out, the officer followed a safe distance behind, assuming Bert was heading to he and Jan's usual meeting place. He made a benign radio call which disclosed the information the other officers needed and they all converged on the meeting place. Remaining just out of visual range, two of the officers exited their patrol cars, and went on a reconnaissance mission. Due to Bert's girth, as well as all of the equipment and miscellaneous assortment of paraphernalia located in the front seat of a patrol car, the back seat was the only place for a little afternoon la vite. Bert and Jan opened both back doors (remember, this is a patrol car!), and shed their clothes into a pile on the floorboard. The two officers, on their bellies like a pair of infantry soldiers, moved invisibly to either side of the car. One grabbed the clothes undetected and, then, with quick eye contact between them, slammed the doors simultaneously, stood up, and double keyed their mikes twice. On cue, four patrol cars, with light flashing and sirens blaring, began circling the stranded patrol car with two startled inhabitants locked in the back seat, helpless and naked. It would be several, several minutes -- which for Bert and Jan probably seemed like hours -- before they were finally set free from the back of the car, given their clothes and left alone. FOOTNOTE: I don't know if this was the "last-straw" for Bert, or if he just knew it was time to move on before his wife discovered the existence of Jan. Shortly thereafter, he left the police department and spent years moving from job to job, never really finding his place in the world. After divorcing his first wife and remarrying a few years later, he moved north, found a good job, and was doing well (or, so he said). Sadly, he passed away, on the toilet, one Christmas morning. I guess it was the final irony to his life. But, Bert, wherever you are - we still miss you! Originally published Monday February 24, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 12:31 PM
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