April 16th, 2012
Mimie loved to go on police rides with me. It was a fun adventure for her, and she got an adrenaline rush from some police actions as much as I did.
Usually, there are 2 kinds of police ride-along guests. The first type is the ride-along they call the "shit stirrer." When the "shit stirrer" rides every type of crime that could happen, it usually does. When that occurs, all the road officers say, "That shit stirrer can never ride again!"
Then there's the type of ride-along that is the "cooler." The cooler ride-along is like a good luck charm for the road, and nothing happens. When they ride all the road, officers say, "That cooler can ride anytime."
Mimie was a "shit stirrer". But she was the boss's wife and rode when she wanted. One Friday night, Mimie did a ride-along with me. And the "shit stirrer" rep was in full effect. We had a small break in the action, so I drove to a nightclub and met up with a couple of off-duty officers working the club. The off-duty officer is paid by night club management, usually for lawsuit purposes, to keep the clubgoers in check. As a detail officer, you work in full uniform and conduct yourself according to policies, procedures, and state law requirements. So when we arrived, Mimie elected to stay in the car. I told her I won't be long.
I parked my marked police car in front of the club, and the 2 other cruisers already parked there. It's good to have the police cars in the open for high visibility purposes and safety. I left the car's engine running for Mimie so she could use the car's air conditioner and listen to music on the radio while she waited. The car was facing the club's front entrance, and she and I were always in sight of one another. I met up with the other officers just outside the club. All three of us stood in the usual cop position.
One officer stood with his arms crossed. Butt against the car door, feet crossed or open stance. Faced in the position to view the nightclub's front doors in case the bouncers threw someone out. Another officer facing that cop who was leaning against the car. He stood with a wide stance. One hand would be resting on the handle of his gun, the other hand hanging from his gun belt using his thumb as a hook, attaching it to any object attached from his belt that feels comfortable for resting. And for me? I was facing the officer, leaning on the car. I like to view what's going on in the opposite direction. My stance is wide. My left forearm is resting on the top of my gun handle. The rest of my forearm lying on top of the belt. My left hand is resting on the "pepper spray" holster. As for my right arm, it's extended. My right hand, thumb, and index finger wrapped around my radio holster. We are standing in a triangle.
After spending a little time there, I decided it was time to leave. I turn towards my car, make eye contact with Mimie, and smile. She smiled back as I walked towards the car. I opened the driver's door and spun toward the club's door using my left hand to use the open door as leverage.
As I swung around the door, I began to say to Mimie, " Heyyyy baby...." and that's when I heard a ruckus.
My body was partially bent since I stood on the curbed sidewalk. I was taller than the car roof, so I could only see Mimie's face if I was bent over. When I heard the shouting from the entrance, I looked away quickly, leaving my vision of Mimies smiling face a blur. I saw a body in midair coming from the entrance of the club.
His body hit the concrete sidewalk. I saw 2-3 guys appear from the door being pushed back. As they cleared the doorway and into the outside air, I saw members of the club security, who were wearing shirts that read SECURITY on them, pushing back against the men. It looked like two sets of magnets pushing away from each other.
I peered through the open door and said, " Well, here we go. Be right back. Love ya." I slammed the door and charged to the after-party.
I was planning what to do as I approached the sea of bodies. Too many people and too many hands to jump in. Where to begin? I then saw 2 men separate from the pack. I could see one of the two men was staff security. The guy the club security guard was tussling with threw him to the ground. The security guard's body slammed into the concrete. He didn't move. Either he was hurt or just too tired to reengage.
So I focused on the patron who threw him down and yelled, "Hey, police officer! Move away from him!" He turned towards me and took a fighting posture.
I was really close to him. We locked our arms up. We both didn't budge. He tried to turn my body one way. I tried to turn his body on another. You see, the trick to fighting is having a cooler head. Here, he and I are locked in a situation. It's more of a sumo fight than a boxing match. The whole time in my mind, I think, "Okay, this ain't working. Try the leg sweep." You gotta have a cool head to feel like that.
I then take my left leg and place it behind his right leg. I plant my left foot tight onto the ground, utilizing all my weight. I then lean into him and drag my left foot along the ground, pulling it into his right leg and sweeping his leg from under him. He went right to the ground. As I began to move towards him, I felt something hit my head and right ear.
"OUCH! What the fuck?!" I shouted. I grab my head with both hands to shield it from other strikes.
I hear, "Oh no, you didn't!" The voice was familiar. It was Mark, one of the detail officers.
He had just witnessed one of the combatants use his belt as a weapon. The young wannabe badass had taken his belt off from his pants, and he was swinging it like a lasso. It sounds relatively harmless until you look at the other end of the leather belt and see the belt buckle attached to the other end, which is large in size. 6 inches tall and 6 inches wide. It weighed about 4-5 lbs.
While all this was happening, Mimie also witnessed it from her front-row seat of my patrol car. She later said, "I thought the whole event was a dream. A nightmare."
Well, don't worry, Mimie, that's how I feel now about your death. Someone, please wake me.
Just after Mark shouted, "Oh, no, you didn't!" The guy ran off. Followed by Mark, and then I followed.
I jumped over the lucky guy I had just thrown to the ground. He wasn't my priority anymore and wouldn't be going to jail. I had another person of interest. I wanted "the guy" who used my head as a belt loop.
I stepped off the sidewalk into the club's parking lot. Mark and "the guy" have a 5 very large step lead. I really wasn't pushing it too hard. After all, Mark is a former track star who went to college on a track scholarship. Indeed, he'd catch him.
As this continues, Mimie can hear all the commotion on the police car dispatch radio.
We zig-zag through the parked cars. I dig my feet into the cool asphalt. As I run between the cars, my feet kick used beer bottles and cans thrown to the ground by clubgoers. We start heading for the main roadway.
"Come on, Mark. Get him." I think to myself as I huff and puff.
We run through the shrubs, and just as I clear through them. I hear a loud thud followed by an "Oh, shit! My ankle".
As I clear through the branches, I see Mark on the ground. As he stepped off the curb, he twisted his ankle and crashed to the ground. "Go! Go!" he shouts. "Damn it! It's on me." the thought ran through my mind, and I was in disbelief.
Thankfully, I was hardly running earlier. Yeah, right. I was on his trail. He wasn't far off from me. He was already tired, exerted a lot of steam, and slowed up. We were zig-zagging between cars again. Only this time, we were in traffic. Mimie was still listening to the police radio with all the attention of Game 7 of the World Series.
He was within my grasp. So I reach out. The tips of my nails slid off his sweaty skin. I almost had him. I pushed myself a little more and decided to dive into him. As my feet leave the ground, I stretch out like Superman, but not as gracefully as he does in the movies.
My left foot drags along the roadway. My right foot is off the ground. I stretch my fingers out and let out an "oomph." I'm gonna get him. Almost there. This is what I have been waiting for. He turns to the left suddenly. I sailed past him and belly-flopped on the ground. My momentum takes me forward as my body slides across the rough roadway. The skin on my hands and forearms tore as if I just slid across a cheese grater.
As my body and on-coming traffic come to a screeching halt, I see my guy fading into the darkness. I hung my head down. My legs bent back towards me, suspended in the air, held on by kneecaps like a hinge. I'm on my stomach, and I pound my fist on the ground. "fuuuuuuck," I shout. I hear a loud noise as I resigned to my fate that he would get away. A horn blares.
I look up, and from my ground vantage point, I see a large truck in the far lane. He had seen some poor pedestrians in the roadway. In an attempt to not hit him with his car, he slammed on the vehicle's brakes. He sounded the truck's horn, but that wasn't enough.
Wack!
"Down goes Frasier! Down goes Frasier!"
Unwittingly to the large truck driver, his vehicle had just struck "the guy." I watched "the guy"'s body launch in the air. Travel 20 feet and land on the ground. It took me a second to realize what I just saw. Like Mimie before me when she saw this whole ordeal begin in front of the club.
I wondered if he was alive.
And then movement. He was alive and getting up.
"This bitch is mine," I said. I sprang up to life with new hope.
I was sore and was limping toward "the guy." He looked back over his left shoulder and saw me closing in. And with all his might, he began to run again. All the people in the cars that had to suddenly stop for the accident got out of their vehicles and watched this whole event unfold. I don't know if they thought it was a police foot chase they were witnessing or a zombie.
"The guy" and I were damaged. Cuts and bruises and blood on us both. He ran with a drunken stagger. And I gave chase like a person with a prosthetic leg. It was slow motion at its best. I had the upper hand since I wasn't just hit with the Ford F250 full-size truck.
I finally caught up to my prize and wrangled him to the ground. Unfortunately, it wasn't as great as dramatic as the chase, but I got "the guy."
Mimie met me by the ambulance while I was having my road rash looked at. She was scared for me and upset by the event.
I looked at her and said," Well, if it isn't my little shit stirrer," she laughed.
With exuberance and glee, she said, "This was the best ride-along yet!"
I looked at all the police guys who were around me. Their stares said it all. They wanted me to find a cooler to ride from now on. But they knew better. She's my wife, after all.
I then turned to Mimie and said," Hey, wanna do a ride along with me to the hospital in the back of the ambulance?"
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That was great! :-) Not going to lie, I actually did LOL when you belly flopped. I could just see you flying through the air right past the guy....lol..Glad you weren't hurt too bad and finally caught him!
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