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AJC.com > Metro > View from the cop > Archives > 2005 > June > 14 > Entry
Tall trouble in the tall grass
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I would like to spend a few moments talking about you and your adrenalin. Your adrenalin is a very powerful natural substance that can cause you to do abnormal things.
I’m not talking about when your uncle Fred who shows up at Thanksgiving wearing his underwear outside his trousers. That’s not adrenalin. That’s bourbon. I’m talking about a situation that causes one to act, without caution, in a manner that he or she could probably never do under normal circumstances.
Stories have been told of greats feats of strength following traumatic events that brought on a rush of adrenalin. A man once raised the back of a car off of the ground to rescue the pinned driver who had been ejected. Or a woman who lifted part of a farm tractor that had overturned onto her son. Still another story told of a man who could perform great feats of strength by simply eating a can of spinach.
Adrenalin is something that needs to be controlled. In certain jobs, this being one of them, adrenalin comes-a-knocking more often than in other jobs, say, librarian for instance.
Unfortunately, for me, adrenalin has a side effect. It goes straight to my bladder. As a result, I never engaged in long car chases. Actually I only engaged in car pursuits if I knew that I wasn’t going to have to write the report or if I had an empty bladder.
I didn’t get into many car chases.
I did have a critical adrenalin/bladder incident, late one night.
There was a particular pizza restaurant that had been robbed on a number of occasions. At the rear of the restaurant was about a 15-foot dropoff to an empty lot covered with tall grass, about three feet high. After each robbery, the bad guy disappeared after running around to the back of the building. We concluded that either he took to the high grass and hid, or he could fly.
On this particular night I was very near that area when the radio put out a call of an armed robbery at the pizza restaurant. I was next to the back end of the empty lot so I parked the car, got my shotgun, and crept over to a trail that led from the restaurant area to the other end of the lot, where several houses were located. The trail was a popular shortcut for the locals.
Radio updated the lookout. The suspect had run out of the restaurant and was last seen running behind the building. It sounded like the same guy who hit before. The responding cars radioed, as they circled the perimeter that they had not located anyone matching the lookout — meaning there was a good chance this guy was in the tall grass.
I could feel my adrenalin pumping. I moved into the tall grass near the trail’s exit and waited. It was late at night and it was hard to see. The trail wound around some debris. Anyone coming down it couldn’t see too far so I had an advantage if I could just get my adrenalin (and other things) under control.
Waiting for something, oh, say a shootout, does weird things to you mentally. It’s so quiet you can hear your heart beat. Your mind wanders to different subjects. It takes away from the concentration that you desperately need.
Here I was, lying in the tall grass, waiting to ambush somebody who was probably well-armed, hoping I would get the jump on them so there won’t be any gunplay, and all I could think about was how I was going to explain my wet pants.
I created the scenario that, first, I would capture the bad guy and then I would roll around in the dirt to make it appear that I had to struggle to facilitate the arrest. As a result, I would be covered with dirt thus taking away the other officer’s attention from my wet trousers.
Bad things were piling up quickly. I had a slow-running robber, body issues and I couldn’t concentrate.
You know that song that gets stuck in your head and won’t go away? As if I didn’t have enough on the table, my mind began to force me to go to other places. It was done in good faith but what happened next was not something I needed at the time.
I was waiting on the world’s slowest-running robber, anticipating a possible shootout, trying not to wet myself, and now, for some unknown reason, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap began to sing “Young Girl” in my head. “Oh my God! I never even liked them. Please give me something else, Jethro Tull, Styx* — anything!!”
I heard someone moving in the tall grass somewhere in between “Over You” and “This Girl Is A Woman Now” but halfway through “Keep The Customer Satisfied” I realized that it was an old dog rooting around all the junk in the grass.
As it turned out, the robber found a way to slip through and he successfully made a clean getaway. (We caught him weeks later when, during his escape from the same restaurant, he got stuck in a drained pond full of mud.)
I was lucky. I came away uninjured and completely dry, thanks to the tall grass and surrounding darkness.
I was a more experienced and better officer after that night. I’m sure my bladder was stronger, too, although every time I go to the bathroom I unknowingly break into, “Something’s wrong between us, that your laughter cannot hide.”**
That is so embarrassing when you’re in the men’s room at the Braves game.
You librarians have no idea how lucky you are!
* Shameless plug for Styx
**”Woman, Woman” by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap
Comments
Commenting is now closed for this entry.
By Ann Burkly
June 14, 2005 9:47 AM | Link to this
I love your column. It is well written and hysterical. However, I must tell you, Librarian life is far more exciting than you realize. In my short libary tenure I endured: flashers, fights, thieves, public web porn surfers - who actually gave me an education - albeit unwanted; a dead guy on our picnic table, violent crack heads, irate patrons, a pit bull attack, cheaters having car sex in our back lot; Mr. Stinky, who cast a deadly 30’ downwind drift; many regular nutjobs who posed as “normal” peole, totally obivious parents with their predestined criminal offspring, such as the little guy who peed in the elevator and jammed it- amongst other numerous offenses, while his parent either surfed the net or was absent; the cutters who take what they want from books, & magazines … Also, last but not least, the guy who was busily wacking off in our sitting area, right in front of the main circulation desk & lobby. That was a highlight of libray life for sure. I also surprised a cop coming out of the men’s restroom, as we both did night check, we nearly attacked each other. Thanks for the excellent articles and keep up the good work.
By Auburn Annie
June 16, 2005 12:11 PM | Link to this
Adrenalin is something that needs to be controlled. In certain jobs, this being one of them, adrenalin comes-a-knocking more often than in other jobs, say, librarian for instance.
Ah, yes, the peaceful life of a librarian - NOT! In 30 years I too have had my adrenalin moments, most memorably the fireworks set off in the stacks one evening just before spring finals. Nothing like the ol’ M-80 going off 10 feet behind the reference desk to get the heart pumping. At least the wankers and flashers are unlikely to burn the place down with a misplaced explosive.
By Swan
June 16, 2005 9:10 PM | Link to this
Ann B, I think you need your own blog! Sounds pretty lively amid the stacks.
By Fashion senseless
June 22, 2005 10:55 AM | Link to this
One of the reasons kilts remained popular wear for the army in Scotland, long after trousers had been adopted many other places, was the ‘wet pants syndrome’. If you don’t have to worry about that and if you don’t have to take the time for the adjustments required with trousers, the better your concentration and reaction time will probably be on some of the more pressing issues that may occur in both combat and police work (and maybe even libraries!).
Hummm…Atlanta police officers in kilts, would also be cooler in summer.