I try not to write about work. I don't expect "civilians" to see humor in the same things I do. I've probably seen more dead bodies than you've seen movies. I've probably watched more people die right in front of me than I've had "serious" relationships. It's kinda in my job description that I spend my days seeking out the shittiest people around and interact with them. This tends to skew one's perceptions of the world. Therefore I assume that most people wouldn't appreciate my work stories, but I'm going to break that rule now because these two calls I went on are stories about the people more than the calls I met them on.
On Thanksgiving, I went to a family disturbance where the grandfather had gotten drunk, started arguing with the family about WWII and now Iraq and was trying to drive home. I got there and the guy was a retired doctor but was drunk as a skunk and being a big ass. In his drunken slurs, he would throw out some phrases in German. I responded with the only German I knew- a couple of totally irrelevant sentences I know from some old school punk rock songs. Who knew that being able to say "I am an outsider" in German would help me on a call? But, once he heard German (even though it had nothing to do with what was going on) he decided I was his best friend, became completely cooperative and agreed to wait with me for a sober ride home. We talked about politics, his life and WWII while we waited. He seemed to be holding back the full story, but he started to let some interesting details slip like how he hated the behavior of German officers and some of the horrible burn injuries he had treated from a massive fire bombing raid (Dresden?). As the conversation went on I became convinced that he was on the German side in the war and he was just trying not to say so. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think I met a real living Nazi...I feel guilty for finding him fascinating.
Last night, I arrested this old man who was born in the great depression. I had a couple of minor victimless crimes I could have easily charged him with, but I didn't feel it would serve any purpose. That's not the way I do things. However, he did have an outstanding probation violation warrant that I couldn't ignore. I caught him way out in the boonies, so it was a long ride to booking downtown. We had the best conversation along the way. He had very humbling stories about what it was like to be a black kid in the 30s. He had some loaded dice on him and he explained how he made them and how he has worked gambling cons most of his life. He's the kind of guy PBS should do a little biography on. He wanted to give me the loaded dice, but I thanked him and told him I wouldn't be allowed to accept. When I booked him in, he asked me to stop him again if I ever saw him again so we could talk some more.
Old people rock. I should hang out at random nursing homes and just play gin and talk to the old timers!
On Thanksgiving, I went to a family disturbance where the grandfather had gotten drunk, started arguing with the family about WWII and now Iraq and was trying to drive home. I got there and the guy was a retired doctor but was drunk as a skunk and being a big ass. In his drunken slurs, he would throw out some phrases in German. I responded with the only German I knew- a couple of totally irrelevant sentences I know from some old school punk rock songs. Who knew that being able to say "I am an outsider" in German would help me on a call? But, once he heard German (even though it had nothing to do with what was going on) he decided I was his best friend, became completely cooperative and agreed to wait with me for a sober ride home. We talked about politics, his life and WWII while we waited. He seemed to be holding back the full story, but he started to let some interesting details slip like how he hated the behavior of German officers and some of the horrible burn injuries he had treated from a massive fire bombing raid (Dresden?). As the conversation went on I became convinced that he was on the German side in the war and he was just trying not to say so. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think I met a real living Nazi...I feel guilty for finding him fascinating.
Last night, I arrested this old man who was born in the great depression. I had a couple of minor victimless crimes I could have easily charged him with, but I didn't feel it would serve any purpose. That's not the way I do things. However, he did have an outstanding probation violation warrant that I couldn't ignore. I caught him way out in the boonies, so it was a long ride to booking downtown. We had the best conversation along the way. He had very humbling stories about what it was like to be a black kid in the 30s. He had some loaded dice on him and he explained how he made them and how he has worked gambling cons most of his life. He's the kind of guy PBS should do a little biography on. He wanted to give me the loaded dice, but I thanked him and told him I wouldn't be allowed to accept. When I booked him in, he asked me to stop him again if I ever saw him again so we could talk some more.
Old people rock. I should hang out at random nursing homes and just play gin and talk to the old timers!
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And I, as well, prob have the same humor as you. Seeing dead bodies day after day, does somewhat change your attitude.