“Tonight, I’m listening to all those old songs that I used to play in my first car as my wife and I would drive around aimlessly for hours back when we were a couple of dumb kids…”
Some people put in an 8-hour shift surrounded by co-workers in the kind of crowded office building where you meet at the water cooler to talk everything from sports to office gossip. Other folks put in their 40 hours talking on the phone, where they’ll mediate, cut deals, or talk logistics. Then there are those like me—the cops across the country working the streets tonight, watching the sun go down at dusk, spending hours in the black stillness of the night, and looking on as that giant ball of fire in the sky rises again at dawn from their seated position alone inside of a patrol car. On a slow night where the call volume is low and the city is a ghost town, the solitude can either be cathartic, or it can make you feel rather empty. It’s all up to you.
Tonight is one of those nights. After a busy weekend of working on my days off, it’s the kind of Monday where I’m looking down the barrel of an even longer work week ahead of me than the one I just put in. I’ll clock at least 68 hours this week, and I’m only just getting started on my first 12. I’m usually one of the more social and outgoing guys on my watch, but I’m actually in the mood to spend some time alone tonight. I don’t want any trouble if I can avoid it, and I’m planning on just handling my calls and coming out of the gate slow. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” the voice in my head tells me.
On this night, I’m spending my time driving the streets of my city thinking long and hard. I’m thinking about my kids and how fast they’re growing up. I smile as my mind plays reruns of my oldest daughter doing that double back handspring she does. Then I think of how my youngest folds her cute little arms and connects her hands at her wrists instead of at her biceps like most people do. I can’t help but think about how pretty they are and what life is going to be like in just a few short years when they start becoming interested in boys. It starts to give me anxiety, so I remind myself to enjoy these years while they last. These are the great ones.
I’m spending the night slow rolling through the dark side streets and watching over the homes of our people as they sleep soundly in bed. One of the main reasons why these folks can do that is because they know that we’re out there, and I take pride in that. Cruising down a street that bears the same name as one of the roads in the town I grew up in causes memories of my childhood to flash by. I reminisce of the days when my parents were hustling around to support a family and build their careers like I am doing now—those good old days before the gray hairs began to replace the youthful dirty-blonde and brown ones. We live 900 miles away from each other now, and I’m thinking about the precious time in their lives that I’m missing. “I’ll make up for it one day,” I think to myself.
I put on some music, but I’m not listening to anything current. Tonight, I’m listening to all those old songs that I used to play in my first car as my wife and I would drive around aimlessly for hours back when we were a couple of dumb kids in high school with our whole lives ahead of us. It was a red 1989 Nissan Pulsar with T-Tops and flip-up headlights that had a NASA sticker stuck to the side and a stupid little green fish capping the antenna until someone stole it. I thought I was pretty damn cool with my plastic hubcaps from AutoZone. Another smile takes over my face.
“I don’t sing to her anymore,” I realize as old familiar songs that I haven’t heard in forever play one after the other—and it makes me wonder where that carefree kid I used to be has gone. Of course, this job has changed me in many of the ways that I was warned it would—but I don’t regret following the path that led me to the somewhat jaded outlook I’ve developed on people, culture, society, and the future in general. The changes come with the territory, but in this moment, ironic as it may be, the thought of that boy I used to be makes me want to be a better man.
I pull up to a red light and look down. My dashboard tells me that it’s 3am. The radio is silent, and I have no problem with that. I look over at the vehicle to the left of me and make eye contact with the driver. I nod to him, and he turns his head back to the road in front of him without nodding back. He doesn’t look nervous, just disinterested. The light turns green, and our non-interaction comes to an end as we go our separate ways. Time passes uneventfully as I make my way through my beat’s neighborhoods and listen to the early birds chirping.
It’s 5am. I’ve written two reports, but they came several hours ago. One was a damage to property call involving a couple of dumb teenage kids throwing rocks at passing cars. One rock hit its target and put a hole in a family man’s back passenger side window. The rock penetrated the window in the exact spot where his child would have been sitting in the empty car seat had she gone along for the ride with her daddy. Thank god that wasn’t the case. I couldn’t help but think about how we can be lucky and unlucky at the same time as I took the rock out of the car seat.
The other report was to document a domestic violence dispute call where a couple got into it after returning home drunk from a party. The wife said her husband punched her, but there was no redness, bruising, swelling, or any other physical manifestation of an attack. On the other hand, the husband said his wife called 911 when he threatened to throw her makeup in the garbage. “You know how these women are with their makeup,” he told me. So that was the big moment of my night to walk away with—a funny story to tell. No wild foot chases, gunshots, or crazy car wrecks on this night—at least not yet. Fingers crossed.
It’s 6:30am, and the watch is called by the daytime supervisor. “Day watch is in service. Evening watch is out of service,” I hear over the radio. I drive home, and I’m not feeling all that tired. No adrenaline rushes last night. That means no adrenaline crashes either. I know in my heart of hearts that I wasn’t in the ideal mindset to work the road—too many things on my mind distracting me—but that’s the way it goes sometimes. I’m just thankful the universe stayed aligned with my mood and my A-game wasn’t needed to save my own life or someone else’s. Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good. I told myself I’d pick it up tomorrow—and I will.
