A Day in the life of a Patrol Assist officer.

I made a promise to myself that I would keep up to date on my blog and post at least once a week. So, here I am. The week was relatively uneventful. I did speak with a guy who is in the Executive’s Association of Greater Phoenix, along with my boss, who owns a big moving company. They have storage facilities throughout Florida and after the conversation with him, I feel a LOT less stressed about the move. Friday after work, I did my Costco and Walmart thing. Saturday am I picked up everything off the floor and vacuumed in preparation for the carpet to be cleaned. I’m afraid that the dogs are having more and more accidents as they get older. I also had the 5’ x 8’ accent rugs cleaned. They were just plain dirty. I think the last time I had them cleaned was a couple of years ago. I had signed up for a shift at the police department from 1600 to 2200 (2pm to 10pm) They ask you to sign up for a minimum of 6 hours, mainly because it takes you 45 minutes to get on the road and another 30 minutes at the end of your shift to file reports, return equipment, etc. So, I sign in and begin the preparation process which I won’t bore you with but it involves obtaining fresh supplies, checking out a citation book, inventorying the vehicle, checking the oil, testing the lights & siren, adjusting the seat, mirrors, etc; logging on to the computer system in the vehicle (for which I had to be certified as a “Criminal Justice Internet System” operator), and basically getting ready to hit the street. I am still in training and have to have a uniform to drive. My uniform won’t be ready until next week, so I rode with another officer named Mike. We weren’t in the car five minutes when we get dispatched to a fire. We get to the fire and our job is to protect the scene and not allow anyone onto the scene or drive over the fire hoses, which are quite expensive. Some punk kid had set the mulch at a playground on fire. The problem was that it was twenty feet from homes and could have spread very rapidly as it was a windy day. Fortunately, it didn’t spread, but the punk destroyed a $30,000 playground that had been built of wood and steel to resemble a tree house. That took us a couple of hours and we arranged to meet up with some officers for pizza around 7. Then, we tagged a couple of abandoned vehicles and ticketed a couple of vehicles for parking in handicapped spots. It was about 6:30, so Mike said “why don’t we head over to Venezia’s?” (the pizza place) I said OK and proceeded to put the code in to dispatch for “on our way to eat”. OOPS. We were a few blocks from the apartment when I realized that I hadn’t taken the dogs out before I left. No problem, I cancelled the “going to dinner” code and put in “out of service” code while I took the dogs for a walk. Then “back in service – but headed out for dinner” code. We go a couple of blocks and UH OH. We see plumes of thick black smoke. We knew it was a residential area, so we headed there and got officially dispatched a few seconds later. It was only about a mile from my apartment, the police station and downtown Chandler. We got there in mere seconds and Mike proceeded to park the car, blocking the road, and started setting out cones. I realized that the fire department was going to be putting their “lines” (a/k/a hoses) out down the street because there was a hydrant there. We guided the fire trucks into the staging area. The fire was literally roaring out of control, and the tension was very high. Sure enough, they put their lines out across a road that wasn’t blocked. People (“lookie loos”) were pulling in from a main road onto this side street to see what was going on. I stood in the middle of the road (yes, I had my police traffic vest on) and stopped vehicles from going any further where they would run over the hose. I made people turn around and go back to the main road. I was pretty proud of myself – they actually did what I told them too. It wasn’t long before I realized that I needed a patrol car at the entrance to the side street to block traffic. The sun was starting to go down and I don’t have an orange cone for my flashlight that is specifically used for directing traffic. I radioed for assistance and within a couple of minutes, a car came and relieved me. So, back to the car blocking the street that the fire was on. A few minutes later (now we’ve been there about 30 minutes so far), a lady came up to us telling us her husband had locked his keys in his car and could we help. “That’s what we do” I told her. Fortunately, Mike volunteered to do it. I’m standing at the car, protecting the scene when a huge truck comes straight at me. Slowly, thankfully. It’s almost upon me before I realize that it’s the fire department’s support truck. Whew!!! I let them run over my cones to the staging area. This is the truck that carries extra oxygen tanks, lighting, water, and extra supplies for the firefighters. We were there about two hours, in all. We can’t leave until all hoses are up and the fire department is leaving. So now, it’s 9:00pm. We put in the “out of service - eating” code and about 8 of us went to the pizza place. Dispatch won’t call you when you’re out of service eating unless it’s a dire emergency. They know that we need nourishment and a break. After eating, we get dispatched to an abandoned car complaint. We write a ticket and a report and are heading back to the station around 10pm. We hear a call for a 962, which is an accident with injuries – usually serious. Since we were the only Patrol Assist vehicle, Mike says “do you want to go, or do you want me to drop you at the station?” I was getting my second wind, so I said “let’s go”. BIG MISTAKE. We head for the accident (which was only about 1 mile west of my apartment) when we get the “ALL PD” message on the computer and tone on the radio. This means only one thing – BIG TROUBLE!!! They are dispatching the entire police department for one reason or another. We soon found out that the accident had knocked out all of the street and traffic lights for about five miles on THE major east/west road – Chandler Blvd. (Where I live) This is major chaos. They assign officers to every intersection to direct traffic. Dispatch couldn’t give us a specific assignment, so we drove to each intersection and spoke to the officer in charge to see what they wanted us to do. Seems that setting out flares and getting traffic vests was the biggest service we could provide. So, starting with the busiest intersection, we parked and set out flares for about 50 yards behind each of four police cars parked at each intersection. We literally ran. We drive back to the station for more flares. We replace the almost spent flares with new ones and set a fresh flare on the end of each active flare so that it will ignite when the other flare starts to burn down. Let me tell you, we had boxes and boxes and boxes of flares in our trunk. When we get the opportunity to take a “break”, we take it in the middle of the intersection with four cops – each directing traffic. Two for north/south and two for east/west. What was truly amazing was how many people driving through the intersection were talking on cell phones. Now this is 1:30 – 2:00 in the morning. Also, I’m sure there were many impaired drivers as the bars let out then. A few people said they “didn’t see the lights” and almost breezed through the intersection. The cops would yell at them “there are four police cars and multiple flares at every dam intersection and you didn’t see the lights???” When I say YELL – I mean in a big, booming cop voice. Long story short, I got home at 4:30 am. So, here I sit at 6:00 in the evening, doing laundry and cleaning house while everyone else is enjoying “cocktail hour”. I didn’t get up until 2:30 in the afternoon. I’m typing this in between my chores of cleaning the floors and doing laundry. I usually am sipping my “Sunday martini” by now. I just ate breakfast at 3:30. Guess the toonie will have to wait for another night. Or…maybe I’ll run a bath and sip it amongst fragrant bubbles. We’ll see. Another promise…future blogs will NOT be as long and they will contain pictures. This and the previous couple of blogs were just to bring you up to date as to what is happening in my world these days.

Very Manly S&#T

What an experience! I’ve spent the entire Saturday for the last eight weeks training for the Chandler Police Department’s Patrol Assist program. What is it, you ask? Allow me to explain. As you know, I am enrolled in the Citizen Corps Volunteer program. The deal is that the government will pay off my student loan (for my EMT certification) to the tune of $2,600. The course and class materials cost me about $800. So…I make out, right? I don’t know how many hours I’ve got in right now, but I think it’s somewhere around 300. I could only go back to August to count my volunteer hours, or I would have already exceeded the 900. So – what is Patrol Assist??? It’s pretty much what it sounds like. As a volunteer, I will drive a patrol car and do whatever the patrol officers, detectives, or any sworn officer needs done. This might include traffic control at the scene of an accident, pushing disabled or wrecked cars off to the side of traffic, helping with paperwork, assisting with the transfer of evidence at a crime scene, transporting uninjured citizens at a collision scene, etc. I am also trained how to break into vehicles “legally” using specialized tools. This might include stolen cars, vehicles at a crime scene, situations where a kid is locked in a car, or a citizen locked their car with the keys inside and the car running. My duties also include writing tickets for parking violations, ticketing and towing abandoned cars, vacation watches, patrolling certain public areas such as airports, parks, water treatment plants, malls, etc. No, it’s nowhere as rewarding as my work in Victim’s Services, but it’s rewarding in its own way. I’m like an “assistant” to police officers. And, boy – do they appreciate us. We take a huge load off of the officers, allowing them to do their jobs. One of the most FUN training days started with a trip to a local junkyard. They equipped each of us (a class of 12) with a “lockout kit” and our job was to break into a minimum of 12 locked cars. I was done in an hour (must be something to do with the “feminine touch”), so I went over to the area where the junkyard dogs are kept. I notice that there is one dog, probably a pit bull, is tied up, but the other dog, a shepherd of some kind, is not. OK – he’s HUGE. Then I notice that there is a gate. That’s open…OOPS. This huge shepherd comes sauntering out of the enclosure and looks at me. What do I do? I FREEZE. You can’t even imagine how many thoughts were going through my head. From “OMG you’re going to die” to “maybe he’s a nice dog”. So…I stood completely still. The dog came up to me and I held out my hand for him to sniff. He sniffs my hand and then starts licking it. OK – no problemo here. Just about then, the other guys noticed what was going on and proceeded to tell me that they would distract the dog while I walked away. MEN! I felt like a “damsel in distress”. But did I need them? Not at all. I said “I’m fine – want to pet him?” It was an absolute HOOT!!! But that wasn’t all… We broke for lunch. Fortunately, I live close enough to the police department that I could come home for lunch. I just don’t like fast food. PLUS – it’s really hard to do low carb when you eat out. We were to meet an hour later at the Firebird Race Track. I teased all the guys (did I tell you that I was – and still am – the only woman enrolled in the progam?) about bringing my crash helmet. WHOA – wish I had one. Everyone drove their own vehicles to the race track. We’re standing in a group and get introduced to our instructor – an ex cop and now an instructor at the Bondurant School of Driving who specializes in training police officers. OK – I dressed fairly “macho” that day – uniform pants and a plain T-shirt. I didn’t feel “different” like I had in previous classes. All we saw was the racetrack and cones set up. Mark proceeds to demonstrate the first exercise. We are to accelerate to 25 mph, and when he says “left” or “right”, brake and swerve (through – not into) the cones in whatever direction he says. What he didn’t tell us is that he would state the command when we were right on top of the cones. The first time around, it took all the willpower I had NOT to slam on the brakes before he said his command. He waited until the very last second to say “left” or “right”. We had to do it three times. I did OK. No cones down. I’m feeling pretty confident at this point but now he says “OK – we’re going to try the same exercise, but now at 45 mph”. Guess what? I aced it three times in a row. The last guy is doing the exercise and we’re all standing around teasing each other about how many times we had to repeat the drill. (Some of the guys had to do it 4 or 5 times before they got it right.) I had no sooner quit bragging that I only had to do it 3 times, when the instructor motioned me over and said “I wasn’t happy with that last run – you’re doing it again”. I’m thinking to myself – “what is this – boot camp?” So – what did I do? I got cocky. The result? I plowed through (instead of around) the cones and killed myself. So then I had to do it three more times. The guys had a great laugh at my expense. The next exercise had to do with swerving (left or right, depending upon the instructor’s whim) and NOT braking at all – at 25 mph. Then – the same exercise at 45 mph. Let’s just say I passed and leave it at that. It was an adrenaline rush, ok. Your instinct says “SLAM ON THE BRAKES NOW”, but you can’t. The “grand finale” came when he taught us how to do the “J Turn”. Why is it called the “J Turn”? I have no idea. What this is? You start out driving backwards (and we had to get up to 45 mph), slamming on the brake, turning the wheel (and doing a lot of praying that you won’t die) and end up going in the same direction but facing forward instead of backwards. Whew! I hope I never have to do it. It’s like the old “E” ticket ride at Disney. At any rate, I graduated this past Saturday. I got: Police department badges, Patrol Assist badges, OC (aka “pepper spray), a belt, a radio holster, a flashlight holster, OC holster, all in all… VMS… Very manly shit !!! I can’t wait to tell you about going to look for “accessories” for my uniform. I went to buy work boots. Of course, I was dressed in a white skirt, sequined tank top and my fuschia heels. Looking for “manly shit”, like boots, gloves, rain poncho, etc. I go to a sporting goods store looking for VMS, right? (Remember my attire) I am looking for steel toed work boots and they don’t make them in a woman’s size 11n, so I have to buy men’s. I put these things on and immediately exclaim “these are the ugliest things I’ve ever seen, I’m not wearing them”. Everyone nearby looked and started laughing their heads off. So, I settled for a pair of hiking boots that weren’t quite as ugly. I got a couple of disposable rain ponchos, a pair of black leather gloves and a pair of heavy gloves with gripper thingies on the fingers.. Then, at the uniform store, I had to get fitted for my uniform and get my police bag. I asked the sales person about a holster for my belt for “things”. She said “what things?” I said – “you know, lipstick, a compact, wipies, Kleenex, etc.”. She looked at me like I had just grown a beard. She comes back with “we don’t carry anything like that in stock, you’ll have to have it custom made. Make a list of exactly what you want to put in it and I’ll have it made for you.” MAKE A LIST?????? Is she crazy? How can I make a list of “stuff”. You know what women carry in their purses. You try making a list. More later!

An Afternoon and Evening to Remember

First of all, you must understand that the gentleman in this occasion is a friend and just a friend. We met at the Arabian horse show in Scottsdale in January. We started “chatting” about his horses – he owns a ranch in the Santa Catalina mountains outside of Tucson. During our conversation, he told me that his girlfriend of four years had just broken up with him and that he would be interested in becoming “pals”. We had dinner a couple of times, nothing special, but pleasant and enjoyable. (He’s a good bit older but a really nice guy.) At any rate, we’re having dinner at one of my favorite seafood restaurants and he says “have you ever seen Cirque du Soleil?”. (DUH – I’ve only seen six different shows) Of course I didn’t say that – I wouldn’t hurt his feelings for the world. Instead, I said that had seen a couple. He said that he had bought two tickets for his girlfriend and him back in December to see the new one, “Corteo” and would I like to see the show. Wow!! You bet!!! He was staying at the Ritz Carleton, so I met him in the lobby at 2:00. The show wasn’t until 4:00 but he asked me to be there at 2. I wondered why. I thought his vehicle was the “pick-em-up truck” that I had been in before. Noooooo – it was his car. Turns out he has several of them. This was the Mercedes sedan. We get to Westworld where the show is being held and we’re almost an hour early. I’m thinking “what the heck are we going to do for 45 minutes – stand outside?” He proceeds to the “VIP” parking area, and I didn’t think anything about it – he’s a first class kinda guy. Well… We proceed to a special entrance labeled “Tapis Rouge”. OMG – you won’t believe it – we were handed a special name badge, a glass of champagne and ushered into the tent. Whoa – there were four bars set up, serving champagne, wine, beer, soft drinks and sodas. There were four hors d’ouvre stations and baskets hanging from the ceiling with appetizers in puff pastry and little pastry shells. The lighting in the room was compliments of paper lamps and lanterns with red shades. There were red sofas and chairs to sit on, as well as several bars with no chairs that you could set your “stuff” on. NOW I know why we were early. I (of course) was the only person who was “dressed” but I didn’t care. There were a couple of little girls whose mom had dressed them up as princesses. (I whispered “well, at least some of us know how to dress”.) We hung out for a while and were ushered to our seats – three rows from the stage. (Which were very narrow – not like in Las Vegas) As we were seated, we were handed a program. (Which I know from experience cost $40) Of the Cirque shows that I’ve seen, almost all of them have been in the “half round” configuration. This was almost a full circle. Actually two “half rounds”. The stage was circular. There were 5 chandeliers on the stage behind a gauzy curtain decorated with angels. Of course, the show starts with the clowns in the audience. The story is of a clown who sees his own funeral, then relives his life. I thought it was going to be dark, but is wasn’t. The moral is that life is a journey – to be enjoyed. I swear, it was the funniest Cirque show I’ve ever seen. Totally unexpected, which is what every Cirque show has been. At intermission, here come the ushers again to escort us back to the tent. There was more champagne, flavored coffees and more desserts than you can imagine. The only one I tasted was a Haagen Das strawberry champagne sorbet. The portions were less than small – tiny is too big an adjective. But, then again, I’m not a big dessert eater. Two bites was plenty. You’re going to drool over this – they also had hot fudge sundaes, Haagen Das ice cream in 7 flavors, a chocolate fountain and wonderful things to dunk into it like marshmallows, strawberries, apples, pound cake, pears – basically you name it. It was fun to watch the kids (not that there were very many) – they thought that they had made it to Willy Wonka’s. After intermission, we were ushered back to our seats. The second half was every bit as good as the first. As we left, each person (only Tapis Rouge people) was handed a gift bag which contained a feather boa, a CD of “Best of Cirque du Soleil”, and a T-shirt. Cool, but that’s not all… I had no idea where we were going for dinner, but since Emmet was staying at street close – Fleming’s Steak House. It’s akin to a Ruth’s Chris. Unfortunately, we were seated near the kitchen, so it was a bit busy. I was actually surprised that Emmet didn’t slip the Maitre d’ a twenty to get a good table. Oh well, the food was excellent. I ordered a Belvedere martini – “up” of course. It came in a stainless steel martini glass. Icy cold and yummy. So yummy, I ordered another one. Emmet ordered Filet Mignon Oscar and I ordered a lobster tail. My only “special request” was that the waiter keep my melted butter hot. I tell you, he was there every ten minutes, bringing me hot butter. There was NO WAY I wasn’t going to order the Grand Marnier chocolate lava cake. In fact, you have to order before you order your entrée. Did I share? NO WAY. Shortly after dinner, we had an espresso at the Ritz. (God only knows how much that cost – two martinis at the Ritz cost $36. I knew that from a night out a few years ago.) Emmet ordered my car and kissed me on the cheek. All in all it was a great night. Fortunately, it only took me 20 minutes to drive home. Between the martinis the full belly and the espressos (which put me to sleep – go figure), I was a tired puppy. It was a bummer that this was a Sunday night and I had a boatload of work waiting for me at the office.