Passenger Poll

Lately, I've noticed what is becoming a time-honored tradition during traffic stops. Polling your passenger(s). This is how it works:

1. I stop you for speeding.

2. You stare at me gobsmacked (you're welcome UK readers).

3. You look to your compatriot in the passenger seat.

4. I start to shake my head

5. You ask the question, "Do you think I was going that fast?"

Let me take this opportunity to educate you on a few things. Your passenger doesn't have the first clue about how fast you were going. Be honest with yourself for a second. When you're sitting in the shotgun seat, how often are you monitoring the driver's speed? Occasionally? Seldom? Never?

Fine, we'll say you've a pit boss in your car monitoring your speed every second for the best possible lap time. Sure. Is your pit boss your 12 year old son?

Asking your pre-teen/teenager if they think you were speeding is not only ridiculous, I'm going to go ahead and say it makes you a lousy parent...at least in this instance. What are you teaching your kid right now? Are you teaching them that the police are trustworthy men/women of their word? Or are you teaching them that police randomly harass the public? Do you think you're a shining example of personal responsibility when you lie to an officer? Gee, do you think little Johnny/Susie will file this little episode away for future use when they get into trouble at school?

The bottom line is I don't think (nor will I be easily convinced otherwise) that your passenger, be they adult or a minor, is paying attention to your speed. I'll buy that they may glance over every once in a while for some random reason, but it isn't their job to keep you in check. And the odds they glanced at your speedometer right when I see you speeding? Infinitesimal.

Irony

Much like the rest of the world, Alanis Morrisette has forever confused me about the meaning of irony. I give you a couple snippets of lyrical genius:

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isn't it ironic ... don't you think

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
'Well isn't this nice...'
And isn't it ironic ... don't you think

No...I don't think it's ironic. I think it's really shitty luck. Here's how my awesome Macbook dictionary app defines irony: a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.

Let's review: Dude is afraid to fly. He gathers his manhood, kisses his kids, faces his fears and dies as a result. That ain't contrary or amusing. It's freaking sad.

I, on the other hand, am here to take back irony from Canadian pop stars (glares at Bryan Adams). Whilst trolling around about one of my favorite spots, I happened to catch a lady yapping away on her cell phone. Here's how it went:

MC: Hi there. Do you know why I stopped you?

II (Irony Incarnate): I was on the phone. You're going to curse me out when I tell you what I do.

MC: I very much doubt that, ma'am.

II: I'm so humiliated. Can I tell you what I do?

MC: Sure...

*Wait for it....*

II: I'm an instructor for a local traffic school.

I couldn't help myself. I started cracking up. And I mean loudly. God bless her, she was a sweet lady, but I couldn't stop laughing.

MC: Ma'am, I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. I just find the irony hilarious.

II: I know. I feel ridiculous. I just got a promotion and I was calling a friend to tell them the news.

MC: II, I won't tell a soul. (Except for a few thousand of my closest friends...but it'll all be anonymous. Not to worry.)

I added that last part in my head.

Another quick example of irony? Arresting a drunk driver. After he left the bar he was drinking in. After committing a hit and run. On the bartender's truck.

That may not technically qualify as being contrary...but it's amusing as hell.

"Amusing as hell" seems a bit ironic as well, doesn't it? I'd assume that hell is not at all amusing. I don't remember a circle of Dante's Inferno being entitled, "The Thirteenth circle of Hell was sponsored by Six Flags".

Look at the circles you have us running in, Alanis!

Oversight Corrected

It seems I am guilty of a senseless oversight...on a couple fronts.

I was contacted months ago by a gentleman who writes an EMS blog called medicmadness.com. He had some nice things to say and I completely ignored his email. I could offer some admittedly lame excuses about how my inbox is flooded with adorations the world over, but I think we all know what a load that'd be.

The truth of the matter is I glossed right over it and then forgot about it...much to my chagrin. I returned the very kind email and was happily forgiven for my weak response time. At any rate, I've taken the time to peruse medicmadness and I enjoyed what I read. To that end, you'll see it added to my "Send in Fire" blogroll.

In addition to that, it seems I need to address a glaring oversight. For some reason, I completely vapor locked and never added the blog of one of the three fathers of the Chronicles of EMS phenom, Mark Glencorse. I know I've mentioned Mark and his blog in the past, but I wanted to make sure you can find it easily from here as well. You will now find 999medic.com on the "Send in Fire" blogroll as well.

Well...that should earn me a bit of respite. Please to enjoy their respective musings!

Pet Peeve

There are so many things to pitch a fit about in this job. There's no denying it. This isn't the first post I've done about the ludicrous things you, the driving public, do that drive me mad. It won't be the last either. This particular iteration, however, comes after the last week or so of having it happen repeatedly.

Put yourself in a driver's position. You are tooling along (see what I did there? Clever, yes? 'Cause you're a tool...geez, people. If I have to explain it, it just isn't as funny) when you see flashing lights of the red and blue variety accompanying a godawful sound that reminds you of a wailing scream. What do you do?

Do you A) pull over to the right side of the roadway immediately or B) continue to drive along (albeit slowly) and attempt to make eye contact with the officer?

If you answered A, congrats. You can stop reading and go back to your cross stitch.

If you answered B, I have another question for you. Now that you've made eye contact do you A) see that the cop isn't trying to get around you and immediately yield to the right side of the roadway or B) continue to drive along (even more slowly), raise your index finger and point at yourself?

If you answered A (after having answered B on the first question), congrats. Although you are quite a bit dumber than the folks who nailed it in the first question, you've redeemed yourself slightly.

If you answered B to the second question, this post is for you.

Let me explain something to you. When you see the bright, flashing lights, the loud siren, and eventually my bent voice coming over the PA, odds are I'm trying to get you to PULL OVER! I'm not just on a pleasure cruise. I'd very much like to meet you and discuss whatever ridiculous thing you did to get my attention.

Now, let's pretend for a moment that (for some reason I can't fathom) I'm not trying to stop you. What the hell do you think I'm trying to do?!? Get out of the bloody way!! This is why the vehicle code requires you to move to the right. Either I'm trying to stop you or I need to get somewhere with a quickness.

Either way, you looking at me in the rear view and pointing at yourself like an idiot is not the appropriate response! Folks, we don't just drive from coffee shop to coffee shop with our lights and sirens going. We are not the collective boy that cried wolf.

So, please. Yield. No matter how you slice it, your best bet is getting over. If you refuse to, it may likely result in an even more expensive fine. And even more mortifying...I will make fun of you in front of thousands.

MC Finally Edits a Show!

Sure, we taped the show two weeks ago. It took MC two weeks to limp his way through editing. But Huzzah! He finally got the job done. In this episode, HM and I talk about freeway lane closures, who's in charge, and what happens when PD and Fire disagree.

We also take a couple more listener questions...remember, you can call with your question(s) at 313-451-HMMC. Want to know who figured out what 451 means? Listen to the show!

A Special Happy Birthday

As you all know, I've a long history with one Happy Medic. HM (aka Justin Schorr) joined forces with a funny talking medic from across the pond (aka Mark Glencorse) and a visionary film maker (aka Thaddeus Setla). The three of them hatched a plot to change the world of EMS.

One year ago today, Chronicles of EMS was born in a San Francisco hotel room (not what you think, ya perv). #CoEMS (on the Twitter) documented Mark's visit to San Francisco where he rode with Justin and they discussed the differences and nuances of their similar, yet vastly different, professions.

The movement caught on and they have garnered international attention. The future of EMS, and for that matter, first responders, looks bright. That is in no small part to three guys that all share a vision. With a new name (Beyond the Lights and Sirens) and numerous episodes under their belts, I have every confidence the EMS world is their veritable oyster.

Congrats, gents, on a job well done. May the future be full of blessings!

You can get to know these three cats on Twitter as @theHappyMedic, @setla, and @UKMedic999. By now, you should already be familiar with Happy's blog...and if you aren't familiar with Mark's, go here!

Texting and Driving

Watch this. Have your kids watch this. Twice.

Feel free to add talking on the phone and driving as well. You are not immortal. Neither are mom and dad. Feel free to harp on them for this as well.

Thanks to my friend, JP Molnar, for posting this on his fb page.

Those Pesky Kids

I can't count the number of times I've stopped someone and then have to listen to them bitch and moan about "those pesky kids" that drive like maniacs every day. Why aren't I doing something about them? Why am I harassing hard working adults? Don't I have anything better to do?

Frankly, no. I don't have anything better to do. See this patch with the wings and the wheel? That means I'm a soul crushing Motorcop. They don't have a patch that shows me crushing a soul, so we went with the old standby.

*On a side note, if any of you are artistically inclined and want to design a cool logo in which I am actually crushing a soul, feel free! I'll add it to the blog and make it my Twitter pic. I'll even give you tons of credit.*

Anyway...I had two people this week say the exact same thing. When were we (the cops) going to do something about these rapscallion teens. Okay, they didn't say rapscallion, but literary license is a beautiful thing.

I attempted to explain to them that teens make up a very small portion of the demographic of folks I cite. And believe me, it ain't for lack of trying! I sit in front of schools just about every morning. At the end of the school day, I'm down the street waiting for them to do something stupid. I remember being a teen. I did stupid...with style! (And now I'm waiting for my Mom to chime in...)

The problem is that more often than not, I don't come across teens as much. But, I didn't have hard numbers to back up my claim. Until now.

I give you to-date stats for 2011. As we all know, I was out for a bit taking care of the Wife and kidlets. And, as most PDs are, we are running short, so I've had to cover a beat from a couple weeks. With that in mind, I have written a total of 93 tickets thus far this year. I wrote down the age of all 93 and averaged them. The result?

43. The average age of the 93 people I have cited so far this year is 43 years old. So, sir. Ma'am. You are the problem. Your excuse of "I drive this road everyday" does not bring forth images of innocence in my head. Think about it. You drive the same way. Every day. Twice a day. Or more. Hundreds of times, perhaps thousands in a few years. You don't think that breeds a bit of complacency? Please.

I'm just as guilty of auto-pilot myself. There have been times I've pulled into the driveway and thought to myself, "Huh. That's interesting. How'd I end up here? Don't really remember the drive home." You are not a unique and beautiful snowflake (credit: Tyler Durden). You are just as at risk for complacent driving as the rest of us.

So, stop whining about "those pesky kids" and how they are systematically thumbing their nose at our precious safe streets. Two things. One, it isn't them. It's you. Second, who taught them how to drive?

Exactly.

Babe is back!

For those of you who aren't familiar with my version of Babe Ruth, it's an oldie but a goodie. Check this out and then come back...if you've already read it, you may want to refresh your memory.

Two years have come and gone since we first met Babe (I figure after all we've been through, I can use just his first name). Today, I had the opportunity to chat him up yet again. Guess what for. Yup...cell phone. I was sitting about 40' from a stop sign when a pickup pulled up and stopped. I saw the driver holding what appeared to be a cell phone in his left hand and it was pressed up against his left ear. The driver saw me, did the quick "I'm guilty as hell" hand jerk down, smiled and drove on. I smiled as well...but for a totally different reason.

I caught up to him pretty quickly and hit the lights and siren. We were on a pretty curvy road with not a lot of places to stop (no shoulders and only a couple driveways). He passed the last street and just kept driving. He acknowledged me with a hand wave (not unusual...at least it gives me an idea that the driver sees me and is intent on stopping when there is room). Eventually (about a mile down the road), he pulled off into some loose gravel that dropped down about 4" from the pavement.

I got on the P.A. and told him I wasn't going to be off-roading today and asked him to make the next right turn. He got back on the road and proceeded to pass the next right turn. He stopped just a little way down the road and here's where the fun starts.

Enjoy...

MC (not recognizing Babe): Do you know why I stopped you?

Babe: No...and sorry I didn't stop, I wanted to get somewhere safe.

MC: I appreciate that sir. So you don't know why I stopped you?

Babe: No.

MC: Seriously?!? I stopped you because you were on your cell phone.

Babe (disbelievingly shakes head): No, sir...I wasn't on the phone.

MC: Well, why don't you let me take a look at your call log.

Babe (hands over his Blackberry): Here you go.

MC (iPhone owner): Can you pull up the call log for me?

Babe: Gee, I'm not sure. I think so. Yeah, here it is. My mom just called as we pulled over (*accurate based on the time).

MC (inspects call log): Huh. I swear I saw you on the phone. Do you have your driver's license with you?

Babe: Sure. I'm pretty conscious about not being on the phone.

MC (starts to walk away to run driver out and sees driver's name...under my breath...and not without a smirk): You've got to be kidding me.

MC (returns to car): Well, hey there, Babe. Remember me? You know why your conscious about being on the phone? Because I cited you for it a couple years ago. Last time we talked, you lied to me about not being on a cell phone.

Babe: I didn't mean to lie.

MC: Yes, you did. You lied right to my face. So, you can understand my hesitance to believe you. Hang tight. I'll be right back.

I got about halfway back to my bike when inspiration struck. I realized something potentially odd about his call log.

MC (back at the car): Babe, you mind if I take a gander at your phone one more time? Why don't you pull that call log back up.

Babe handed me the phone and I pulled up his mom's recent call. It should be noted I'm an iPhone guy, not a Blackberry guy. I'm not super comfortable with how the Blackberry works; however, I was able to delete the call record of his mom calling in about five seconds. Cast your mind back to the two minute road trip Babe and I had while he was "looking for a safe place to stop". Seem odd now? Yeah, I thought so, too.

MC: Well would you look at that, Babe! I deleted your mom's call!

Babe: No. Not on my phone.

MC: I'll be damned if I didn't just do that very thing, Babe. Remember that two minute cruise we just took? Yeah, that'd be plenty of time for you to erase a call.

Babe: I wouldn't do that.

MC: Not for nothing, Babe, but with the history we have, I'm not exactly inclined to believe you. Hang tight.

I walked back to the bike, scratched out a cite, and ran Babe out. Would you believe he's had two prior cell phone violations? Damn the luck! And him being so conscious about it and all.

MC (back at the car and already writing the post in my head): Okay, Babe. Here's the deal. I'm gonna give you a ticket for being on the cell phone; however, if you can provide me with a bill with a call history on it that you can't manipulate and prove to me you weren't on the phone, I'll dismiss the ticket. Fair enough?

Babe: Uh, sure.

MC: Great. What's your cell number?

Babe: Um, why?

MC: Well, Babe, I'd like to know so I can compare that phone to the proper bill.

Babe: Oh. Okay. It's, uh, 555-1234.

MC: Great.

I dialed the number and, believe it or not, his phone didn't ring.

MC: Babe, that doesn't seem to be the number. Let's try again.

Babe: I just changed the number. I forgot. Try 555-4321.

MC: Great.

I dialed the number and dammit if it didn't ring again.

MC: Well, that didn't seem to work, either.

Babe: You could give me your number.

MC: Babe, that's just not going to happen. Tell you what. We know your mom is home. Why don't you ring her and ask her what your number is.

Babe (calls mom): Hey, mom. What's my cell number? Because I'm talking to a police officer and he wants my number. He thinks I was on my phone. Thanks, I'll call you back. Try 555-1423.

MC (dials phone): There we go! Okay, Babe. I'm gonna give you until the end of next week to bring a copy of that bill in, alright?

Babe: Okay.

Anyone want to take odds? Will the next time I see him be with a cell phone bill in hand or will it be the next time I stop him for driving and talking on his cell phone?

Oh...by the way...I also stopped his son. Twice.

"This is my friend" - MC's take

MC's take...get it? Pun totally intended, so don't freak out.

Let's address some of the concerns in your comments. First, the no identification concern. He did have his school ID and it matched his picture. The last name on the registration matched the last name on the school ID. I was comfortable that he was who he said he was. I do, however, have a couple of options for this scenario. The easiest is to run his driver's license using his name and date of birth. I then ask dispatch for the physical descriptors listed on the license. In this case, they matched nicely to the individual driving the car.

The other option is to get a thumb print and add it to the rear of the citation. I typically only do that when a driver has never had a license or is not legally in the country (don't get me started...it's an issue I sure as hell ain't gonna solve at my level).

Sufficed to say, I had every confidence the kid wasn't Jimmy Hoffa.

Second, there's the issue of his Dad's wallet. I'm operating under the assumption that Dad had a spare and gave it Junior as a loner. Accurate? Maybe. Do I care? Nope.

Lastly, I'd like to take the opportunity to say you all make me look like a pussycat. "Bust his taillight"?!? "Arrest him for bribery and theft"?!? I may like where your heads are at, but there's a little thing called due process and something I once read about civil rights and some silly amendments some old guys wrote out that most folks get their panties in a wad over.

Here's how it played out:

MC (sternly but not loudly): Get out of the car.

SLP (smirking a little less): Huh?

MC: Get. Out. Of. The. Car. Now.

SLP (thinking perhaps his attempt at humor was ill-conceived): Uh, okay.

MC (noticing the belt-less state of his jeans): Pull up your pants and get over here.

SLP hitches up his britches.

MC: What is wrong with you? I know you're trying to be a fuc...

*Now I know I'm getting pissed off because I almost let fly the mother of all bad words knowing I'm recording myself, so I rein it back real quick like only to be met with...

SLP: I'm not trying to be a fucking smartass. (Little bastard stole my misguided thunder)

MC: I get it. You're trying to be the tough guy in front of your little girlfriend and your buddy. I've got friends. I know what it's like.

SLP: I just don't think I was doing 48. (Said with the subtext of "This is a chickenshit ticket")

MC: I don't care what you think about it. Our business is done insofar as that goes. You want to talk about the other thing?

SLP (blank stare).

MC: You want to push me on it? Because I will take your happy little ass to jail. Do you get me?

SLP: You're an officer, sir. I don't want to push you. (Said practically dripping entitlement)

MC: Oh man, you have no idea how close you are to getting arrested. If I ever see you pulling this kind of crap again, you're done. Do you understand me?

SLP: Well sir, I hope we don't...

MC: Get out of here now.

SLP (doesn't move).

MC: NOW. I swear if you don't move and drive away right now, I'll change my mind and you're going to jail.

SLP slunk off to his car. I'm sure he tried to save face with his friends, but it doesn't much matter to me. I know what he drives. I know what he looks like. I contacted the school resource officer at his school to get the skinny on the kid. I wasn't shocked to find the attitude was not unusual.

Mom sure wasn't happy when I called her and gave her a heads up on his antics. Kind of a risky play, that. SLP learned his attitude from somewhere. She seemed receptive, though. Now I just have to hope Dad isn't SLP Sr.

I believe Kardiac Kid mentioned PC 67 in his comment (Well done, sir/madam...not exactly a gender specific name). That particular section covers bribing an executive officer. As police officers, we are often encouraged to handle things at the lowest level possible. What that means is this: Could I have arrested the kid for a felony? Sure. Is that necessarily the best solution to this problem? I don't think so. Would the D.A. file it? Sure...right into the round, metal cylinder next to the desk.

The best solution in my mind was just what I did. I gave him a dressing down on the side of the road. Maybe I embarrassed him a little in front of his friends. I called his Mom. I guarantee you if Mom and Dad are of the same mind, there retribution will far exceed anything I or the justice system could unload on him. Back me up here, parents!

This is the kind of discretion that drives poor Happy crazy. Sorry, brother, I gotta rub it in when I can. And let's not forget that I know where SLP lives, goes to school, and the car he drives. If you don't think I'll be keeping an eye out for any of his shenanigans, you either don't know me at all or haven't been reading this blog for very long.

Laziness will get you arrested

It's true. I don't make up the rules, people. Case in point...

The other day, I was happily riding in 63 degree weather wearing my summer gloves and a lightweight long sleeve uniform shirt (sorry 40+ other states...it's freaking beautiful in CA!) when I see a hapless driver without her seat belt on. On go the lights, over pulls the car.

MC: Afternoon. Do you know why I stopped you?

LL (Lazy Lady...should be become clear soon): Um...is it because I wasn't wearing my seat belt when I pulled out of the shopping center?

MC: It is indeed. Do you have your driver's license?

LL (doing the 14-six pat...LEOs should know what that is...at least in CA): Well, officer, my license is suspended. I just want to be honest with you.

MC: I appreciate that. Why is it suspended?

LL: Well, I had a DUI a while back and I have a court date in a couple weeks to get it changed to restricted so I can drive to work.

MC: Okay. Where were you coming from?

LL: The doctor. I just work across the street.

MC: Uh-huh. Okay...hang tight. I'll be right back.

*The eventual DMV check through dispatch revealed a total of nine suspensions. Six of them were still active. Two of those were for two separate DUIs. Oh...and she's on probation for the DUI.*

MC: LL? Here's the thing, you're suspended for a whole mess of stuff. I'm gonna place you under arrest for driving on a suspended license and I'm going to tow your car and place a 30 day hold on it.

LL (tears a-brimmin'): Do you think you could tow it tomorrow so I can use it just to get back home tonight?

Seriously?

MC: No, LL. I don't think that'll happen today. Let me ask you a question. Did you know your license was suspended?

LL: Yes.

MC: Right. And you work across the street, right?

LL: Yes.

MC: And your doctor is about 200 yards from where you work, right?

LL: Yes.

MC: LL. Why didn't you just walk?

Deer in headlights time. At the end of the day, she didn't really have a cogent answer for me. Not that her reasoning would have mattered a whole lot. I'll give a break every now and again if your reasons make some kind of sense to me. But six active suspensions? Um...no.

If you are too damn lazy to walk your suspended behind across the bloody street, you don't deserve the "oh-poor-you" treatment. You deserve the "I'm-taking-your-car-to-car-jail" treatment.

Oh...and I still cited for the seat belt. That ought to nut up at least a few of you. On the other hand, there are those of you who know I got a mover and an arrest stat. Win/win in my book.

"This is my friend"

I recently had a completely new experience. I was offered a bribe. I'd like to think it was meant to be a joke given the circumstances, but in retrospect, I'm not so sure. I'll tell you what happened...you tell me what you would have done. And when you comment, let me know if you're an LEO or not. I'm curious about the differences, if any.

I stopped a car full of teenagers. The driver was speeding. Not terribly or anything, but still...above my threshold of tolerance. The driver had a definite, shall we say, "entitlement" attitude and acted like you'd expect of someone of that caliber.

MC: Do you have your driver's license?

SLP (Smug Little Punk): You know...my wallet got stolen just last week.

MC: That right? How about a school ID?

*SLP digs around in the center console and extracts...gasp...a wallet.

MC: Didn't you say your wallet was stolen?

SLP: This is my Dad's.

MC: Fair enough.

SLP: Officer, can I ask why I was stopped?

MC: Do you know what the speed limit is back there?

SLP: 35.

MC: It is indeed. Do you know how fast you were going?

SLP: 39, 40.

MC: 48.

SLP: C'mon, officer. The car in front of me wasn't going that fast...

*There was no car in front of him...at least not after he made a lane change and accelerated. I should also add that there is a lot of subtext going on that is difficult to paint in a post.

MC: I got you on lidar. You were doing 48.

SLP: Don't you mean radar?

MC: No, I'm pretty sure since I said lidar, I meant lidar.

SLP: Oh...I thought you were, you know, making a play on words. Like "liedar"...like I was lying.

I cited the kid for speed. He made some crack about knowing the judge and his son, but I chalked it up to him trying to be funny in front of his friends. I can dig it. I'm not a complete square. I try to ham it up in front of the guys, too.

Then, he thought it'd be a good idea to up the ante.

After he flipped a U-turn, he stopped across the street from me and made some comment. I don't recall exactly what it was, but it sounded like a joke of some kind. There happened to be another car behind him, so I jokingly said, "If you don't move your car, I'm gonna have to cite you for impeding traffic."

SLP looked back and said, "Oh, that's my friend." Then he said, "Actually, this is my friend." In his hand he held a $100 bill. "Whadda ya say? Think my friend can take care of this ticket?" All with a shit-eating grin on his face. Mr. Cool to his buddies and the girl in the front seat.

I know what I did. I was there. And I'll tell you all about in an upcoming post. But for now, what do you think? We're dealing with a 17 year old kid with a car full of similarly aged kids. What are your options? What is your demeanor? How would you handle this situation?