It was a fine night or "Cap'n don't open the door"
Thought you folks might get a kick out of this.
From Texas.
Quote:
There I was. Sitting at my desk with a couple hundy burning a hole in my credit card, debating whether or not I should buy myself a piece of Filson luggage. After all, the world traveling sportsman that I have become needs something rugged yet classy too haul his drawers around in…but I digress.
Anyway, there I am sitting at my desk when I hear a couple officers sent to a car wreck where the at-fault vehicle had driven away. Of course, the occupants of the non-fault vehicle were somewhat incensed with matter, and were screaming through their cell phone at the comms folks. Who, by-the-way, were doing an outstanding job of directing the officers to what had evolved into a rolling hullabaloo.
Still firmly seated; my thoughts alternated between my drawers in a Filson bag, and how well my team was addressing an event that was escalating moment by moment. A brief smile crossed my face as I recalled how far these guys had come, and now were meshed into a seamless unit. Much like a couple embraced in a waltz, moving as one ever so gracefully across the dance floor.
Then it happened, those magical words that get every officer’s blood pumping, and wipe the smile off the face of every captain. “Pursuit!” Still at my desk, the now pursuit unfolded still at a distance. There was no way I was going to catch this thing, as it were. No hurry for me. No matter how this thing terminated, I would be the last man there. That was fine too. If it unfolded badly I would have time to get the admin on the phone and begin running it down to them on the way.
Then they turned, and turned again. I got up and headed toward the stair well and out to my waiting stead. It seemed that they were going to drive right to me. Good. This wouldn’t be the first “casual pursuit” I had participated in. Just like running deer with hounds, push the animal to me and I’ll cut’em down right here. Then they turned off and alas I had to make some effort. Then it ended, and came the dreaded long silence on the radio as the officers there were bringing the circumstance to its ultimate conclusion. I have never liked this silence part, because what comes after will reveal how much work I would be involved in. Injuries, scuffed cars, suspect’s with boo-boos, folks that just were not happy that this raucous deed passed through their neighborhood, waking the children and just wanted to talk to a supervisor about it. Then there were the Nosy Nellies that would be calling…media types that sleep next to their scanners and would want the scoop for the morning edition.
Alas, there was nothing. Just silence upon silence. I drove on, glancing up into the low hanging haze at the red and blue borealis that had become my guide star to the spot. As usual, arriving late to the party, parking was difficult and at a premium. But I made it. Walking along I glanced at patrol cars for hanging body parts and scuffs. Seeing none, that brief smile that had cracked earlier began to return. There was one guy bandaging a slightly bleeding scuff on his wrist. There was another, clip board in hand, taking notes and inventory. Still yet another with a camera, digitally documenting this moment in time for all of posterity. Still there were the others. Huddled in a group. Laughing and slapping one another on the back in a reunion of brothers who rarely get to see one another as their various responsibilities keep them apart. There was the bad guy. Sitting in the back seat. As I looked, I noticed nothing remarkable there that needed my attention.
“Why was I here” I thought? “This is perfect, and you have done well. This is a well-oiled machine, chugging along. It needs no direction as its course is fine.” So I turned; headed back to my stead with thoughts of my drawers traveling in a fine Filson bag on my next excursion into the wilds.
It was then I was stunned to a stop by a hiss. Not a snake, nor feline, not the hiss of any creature of terra firma. This was the unmistakable hiss of a crocodilian. It was somewhat “off” though. Hidden from my ear in such a way as I could not find it, but it was indeed THAT HISS. Steadily my ear found it. As a homing radar finds the aero plane in space. I had found it. As I reached for the handle there came a familiar voice. Stern but humble, demanding yet pleading, almost…almost the hint of a tearful moment could be heard in it.
The voice…that pleadingly humble, sorrowful, yet insistent voice said, “Cap’n, don’t open the door. There is an alligator in my back seat!!!”
Yes, yes indeed. This fine example of professional peace officer; having been cooped up for three previous nights in the rain, and having his aggression turn to mischief, decided that it was a capitol notion to catch an alligator he had witnessed crossing the road. Then place the five foot specimen of said crocodilian into the back seat of his patrol unit in effort to transplant it into a near- by bayou. Where said crocodilian might live out its remaining days safe and in peace, free from the dangers of cars, buses, and other modern mechanized implements that travel the route. Unbeknownst to the officer, a high speed pursuit was fated to him along the way. The aforementioned crocodilian was now quite unhappy with the preceding events, and was making his attitude known from within the confines of the patrol unit.
Truly, I don’t know how the alligator fared. I can only imagine that the involved officer is fine. As I have received no communication to the contrary. I do foresee a quite lengthy talk in our near future. For the moment, I am going to wait for that. Just so his imagination can percolate on what he thinks I might have to say about this.
My mind too is preoccupied and has not returned to the thoughts of a fine Filson bag to tote my drawers in. Maybe this is best. I don’t yet know.
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