Yah, I'm still alive. Arrg! I really didn't mean to go so long without a journal entry. I swear! And it's not like I'm tired of doing the journal, either. I think it's more that I just haven't been in much of a mood to spend my free time at the computer. I've even gone two or three days without checking my email, which for me is not normal behavior. And as those of you who have sent me emails lately can attest, I'm completely sucking at returning email. Sorry!

I've been working hard, but enjoying darn near every minute of it. Even the really disgusting stuff is fun in its own weird "experience-laden" way. When I actually get around to writing again, I'm going to have a hell of a lot more life experience to pour into my writing. I realized the other day that it's been over a year since I've written a story. Yikes! Admittedly it's been a rather busy year, and one full of major life changes, but still... And I am one who thinks like Ron Collins and does not believe in writer's block. I know I do not have writer's block, and it's not even that I lost interest in writing. I think I just needed to shift my whole way of thinking for a while and get a whole new perspective on life.

Last week was the week for Really Disgusting Houses. Lots of filth and deplorable living conditions. But the worst was an abandoned trailer where a runaway teen was supposedly staying. We'd been informed by several sources that the boy (15 years old--long history of delinquent behavior) had a fairly large knife in his possession. So, when my backup up and I searched the trailer, it was with guns out. But first thing I did when I stepped in to the trailer was to play the flashlight around the living room.

It moved. Everything moved. Absolutely, utterly carpeted in roaches and ants. So not only was I faced with the very real possiblity of having to shoot a kid, but I had to go through Roach Hell to look for him as well. We eventually determined, after slogging through way too many six-legged creatures, that the kid had ducked out the back window when we first drove up. Relief, in a way, because if the kid had come out at us with the knife in hand... well, I sure as hell don't want to shoot a kid, and I'd have an awful time sleeping at night afterwards, but I'm not going to get hurt or killed or let my partner get hurt or killed like that.

But the real excitement was last weekend. I had a situation go to complete shit on me.. fell completely apart in the space of seconds. Can't really go into total detail here, but basically a kid (this one was 17) stole his dad's truck.. daddy got mad.. got into pursuit with daddy in his car and kid in the stolen truck... I eventually got both parties stopped, which was when everything fell apart. Daddy ran to the truck, I attempted to stop daddy... daddy pushed me out of the way (Can you say Battery on a Police Officer? I though you could!) and proceeded to jump into the bed of the truck, smash out the back glass, and beat up son.. while son is attempting to drive away.

Somewhere in there I hollered for help on the radio. I mean, I hollered. I didn't use the 108 code, which means "I'm getting my ass kicked"... just the 10-55 code which means "I need more units here" but I hollered "10-55! 10-55! 10-55!"

So in the meantime, the truck is stopped again, more fighting ensues, I scream a lot of things like, "If you don't fucking let go of him I'm going to fucking spray you!" But then I got the fight broken up, got the kid in handcuffs, and was just getting handcuffs on daddy when the first of the gazillion units showed up. (It was kinda funny... all the time I was screaming ... er, I mean issuing loud verbal commands... I could hear the sirens getting closer. And there's one particular deputy on my shift that likes to use the "hyperyelp" siren. I heard that, and even while I was screaming commands, I had this little calm portion of my mind that said, "Well, that would be Roy on his way.")

In the end we had five or six Sheriff's units out there, three Slidell PD units, and one State Trooper. The mall parking lot we were in is right next to the interstate, and I'm sure people passing by were wondering just what the hell had happened to warrant so many police and flashing lights.

But Damn it's a really nice warm fuzzy feeling to know that so many people are willing to come screaming to your aid. Plus, even though it took me several days (and much talking-it-out to team members and other police-friends) to realize it, I scored points with my shift by "handling my bizness" (as one team-mate put it) and having both subjects in handcuffs by the time the first unit showed up. It actually took me about a day and a half to come down off the stress of that encounter--felt lousy about it, especially the way it all fell apart, but pretty much everyone I talked to reassured me that things will fall apart, and what matters is how you handle things when it all goes to shit. So, I guess in the end it's all good. And certainly an Experience.