Hazards of the job

Several of my male friends in law enforcement have stories of women undressing as a ploy to get out of a ticket. Or something. I consider that a job related hazard. I can't top that. But this story is still pretty dang funny.

It was 2300 hours and I was fixing to drift off to sleep when I heard bagpipes. Specifically,"Scotland the Brave," my ring tone. It was the Boss asking if I could back him up. He'd been called out for a motorist in distress which turned out to be a possibly stolen car driven off the road by a guy with officer safety advisements. We'll call the guy Roy.

I got dressed as quickly as I could and thankfully didn't have to scrape ice from the windshield. But a trooper (the cute one with the southern accent) beat me to the scene. I was happy to see him since I'd been worried about the Boss there in the dark on the side of the highway with a stolen car.

APD got ahold of the vehicle's owner and it turns out it's not stolen. The car belongs to Roy's grandfather. The old man had been upset with Roy so he'd put a hold on the vehicle. But, on second thought, I guess he decided that Roy could drive it after all. Fine. Get us all worked up for nothing.

So I'm taking the accident report and I'm talking with Roy. I'm being my normal friendly self. Maybe even more friendly than normal because I want Roy to tell me things. And because my boss warned me that Roy was exhibiting symptoms of emotional and mental instability (and I sure hate to piss off crazy people!). I guess I can turn on the charm, because he admitted to going 117 mph before he lost control of his car and spun all around the highway (thank goodness no one else was there), before sailing off into the trees. 117 is pretty specific, but he assured me that's how fast he was going.

I came back with his citation and explained everything. Roy told me I'm the nicest federal LEO he's ever met. I ask him what other federal LEOs he's run in to and he told me all about how he just got out of federal prison. Roy served 9 months for stealing mail (although I suspect there's a little more to the story than just taking people's bills, magazines, and assorted correspondence). He lamented that the correctional officers weren't always very nice. He said the US Marshals are alright. I agreed, the Marshals are nice guys.

Then, this is the best part. After telling me how nice I am, he says he hopes to see me around town. He was hitting on me! He was a breath away from asking me out (I could tell) when I deflected the conversation (very smoothly, if I do say so). I hadn't even seen it coming. If I hadn't been paying attention, the results could have been horrific!

I've been thanked after issuing citations before, but never, ever, has anyone almost asked me out! Wait... that might not be true. No sober people have ever flirted with me after being cited and/or arrested.

That was my excitement for the night. I wish the car had been stolen. I wish the cute trooper had flirted with me instead of the convicted felon. Sigh. Maybe next time.