Rookie Police Experiment
My first If-I-hadn’t-seen-it-myself story….
The first night with the lieutenant was a real eye-opener. It was rumored that he worked for some clandestine governmental agency, and this was his day job. He loved action, carnage and gunplay.
He talked out of the side of his mouth in mumbles. He gave the impression he was pointing his mouth to the side like a directional speaker, so he didn’t have to turn and could keep his eyes directed ahead. Something a person frequently in dangerous situations would do.
His physique and body language was that of a Tim Burton cartoon character.
He came to roll call and said, “Oh good, drivers.”
When we got to his car, 16 DC, he said, “How long have you had your driver’s license?”
I said, “Since high school, about six years.”
He said, “Good, you drive. The last cadet from the academy got her license for the job. I had to drive the whole time.”
…
At about three in the morning the lieutenant and I were driving by the Philadelphia Zoo, the only going concern in the district. The lieutenant brought up the topic of not-too-infrequent calls to the zoo about a baby crying, adding at least once a month, the radio dispatcher sent a car to investigate. I pulled up and stopped outside.
He was explaining the crying baby was one of the primates inside the zoo that makes a sound like a human baby, and passers-by often called the police to report it.
I was watching him like I used to watch my grandfather when he paused, and a mocking smile drew itself across his face. From the corner of his mouth oozed, “Hmm, look at this character. I wonder what he thinks he’s doing.”
I followed his gaze to see a man walking toward us. Although slightly wobbly, he walked with determination. He held a peacock under his right arm.
You read that right, a peacock!
When the headlights hit the luminescent blue-green body, my brain went on tilt. The bird glowed in three dimensions against the night’s gray flatness.
I was now seeing part of the world differently. Not just the gloomy edges of West Philly but the way it changed at night. Everything was different. The way the street lights played on the peacock’s feathers in the absence of sunlight made it three-dimensional against a flat background.
The oppressive, humid air of the daylight hours was fleeing a cooler, heavier air flowing into the void. As the man approached, it was as if he was swirling through this heavy night air.
The man grew large as he came close with this treasure under his arm like a brown-paper-bagged six-pack.
The lieutenant said, “Hmmmmm…. I think we better have a talk with this gentleman.”
His eerie way of speaking gave pause to what he was going to do next. We got out and hit the sidewalk as the man reached our car.
The lieutenant said, “Excuse me, sir. What are you doing?”
The man replied, “I’m going home.” (I love the literal.)
The lieutenant said, “Sir, that bird belongs to the zoo; I’m going to have to ask you to turn it over to us.”
The man stopped, backed up a little, and looked at us like we were crazy.
He said, “No, this is my peasant.”
That’s not a typo; he said peasant.
Now, the lieutenant and I knew he meant pheasant, so we disregarded the assault on the Queen’s and the lieutenant tried again.
“Sir, that’s not a pheasant; it’s a peacock. It’s a rather expensive bird that belongs to the Zoo.”
The man backed up a little further and strengthened his position, “It’s my peasant. I caught it, and I’m taking it home to cook it.”
The lieutenant and I looked at each other. I wasn’t on the street a week and was already collecting my first If-I-hadn’t-seen-it-myself story.
The lieutenant tried a different tack….
This is just a glimpse—there’s much more to uncover in the full book.