I was at home yesterday, pretty depressed over the Seahawks having the game taken from them by the refs. I’m not bitter, nor will I be immolating myself soon; but it was a low time.
As I wallowed on my sofa, my son ran in the door and said, “Dad, a car just crashed into a phone pole next door, I think the cops were chasing it!” Now this is more like it! A bit of excitement, just the thing to knock me out of a funk; and how considerate of some low-life to bring it right to my front door! I needed three things in order to run outside and join the fun: first I needed a gun; I grabbed a .380, knowing that I may be poked fun at by my fellow officers who think that it is a sissy pistol, but it is light and easy to run with. Next I needed a flashlight; my Surefire e2 would do nicely. Lastly I needed some shoes; you can’t run after bad guys in your stocking feet; very difficult to run after someone crying “Ouch ouch ouch ouch” with every step through the gravel. The problem is that it took me a few minutes to find my shoes.
While I was excavating through all the ladies' shoes in a closet that must have belonged to Amelda Marcos, my daughter (the volunteer Fire fighter) grabbed her EMT gear and ran out the door, hoping to save someone’s life. My wife then started yelling at me to go get my daughter, whom she felt was going to be molested and killed by the bad guy. I finally found my shoes and ran out just in time to see my daughter walking dejectedly back to the house, nobody bleeding or dying, not even a good hangnail to bandage. I got to the car (which was pretzeled around a very sturdy phone pole) and saw an abandoned police car behind it; everyone had taken off running.
That is the problem with modern vehicles and air bags; in the old days when you wrapped your car around a phone pole, you did not get out and run from the police, you stayed put, wedged somewhere between the dash and the windshield. Nowadays guys are crashing right and left and able to pop out and do the ole’ felony two step.
The suspect ended up being arrested two blocks away, turned out he was drunk and (probably) upset that the Seahawks had lost, and was driving around shooting out windows with a handgun (which was on the floor of the wrecked car). So, at the end of it all, I didn’t get to have any fun, I had to pick up all my wife’s shoes, and I had to explain 27 times that I really was carrying a real gun.
To top it all off, I got into work today and all the paperwork for the case was on my desk.
Should have stayed on the sofa.