No Megaphone Required

(Please be for warned that this post is so damn long that I didn't even want to go back and proof it for errors, not that I do that anyway. Also, it's kind of boring. LOL. I guess you had to be there. Oh, and Curious can bite me. LOL)
Okay, I am a yeller. I admit it. As a matter of fact, when I was still a troop one of my fellow officers started to call me ole yeller, after the Disney classic. I was not offended, because it was said good naturedly, plus the shoe fit. Now, admittedly it is not a cool as the nickname I was given at my old station, which was Batman, but I was okay with it, because, like I said, it fits. I yell.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t just yell for the hell of it, which I know is what went through some of your minds. Yeah, I know what some of you cop haters were thinking, “Cocky ass cop, yelling at people just because he can.” WRONG!

I am just the opposite. I am actually one of the nicest Police Officers out there. That being said, I don’t necessary have a carriage or persona about me that is intimidating. Nor is my normal speaking voice. As a matter of fact, besides the uniform I wear, there is nothing about me that says, “Hey, that guy is a cop.” Still, since I am a hard worker I would often be the first person to come to a call. As that first person, sometimes you had someone who wanted to buck-up on you. So, it was just normal for me to use my voice as a way of gaining control of a situation, if need me.

Case in point, we have this street that houses two small clubs and when I say small I mean small. Just by way of example; remember the Joot Joint that Harpo opened in the Color Purple? Well, these clubs makes Harpo’s place look like the Taj Mahal. I ain’t lying. But places are small and cramp, with bad ventilation and I can’t for the life of me figure out how come so many people folk to this location every freaking weekend; but they do. And every freaking weekend there is some type of problem.

The year before last, before I was promoted to Sergeant status, this place went off the chain nightly, especially during the summer months. There were shoots, cuttings, all kinds of black on black, stupid crimes. Why? Because all of these individuals come to this particular street in droves, but only some of them actually hang out inside of the businesses themselves. For the most part they would park, bumper to bumper and just hang out, by the hundreds, in the street. It is because of this reason I initiated my bar checks, when I was promoted to Sergeant (fat lot of good they did). LOL.

Anyway, I am en route back to the station, because one of my troop has brought me a fajita plate back from the extra job he worked, when another troop request cover, on this troubled street, in helping clear out some of the congestion. Well, of course I head that way. I was right down the street.

The place is packed and I hit bumper to bumper traffic trying to get to the actual street that houses the clubs. And I know you are now thinking that I am just going to use my lights and siren horn to get the traffic to move. No, that shit ain’t going to happen, because there is not place for the traffic to move. Instead, I turn on my back lights, get out of the car and walk the block up to the heart of the problem. (Keep in mind that I don’t have my flashlight, which is another story altogether, and I feel naked without the thing at night time).

I approached the troop and ask him what he has. He tells me he is just trying to divert some of the traffic away and provide officer presence before anything came pop off. I’m cool with that, so I will just stand by and observe.

While standing by, I see this big ass, burly guy looking over at me and then come sauntering my way. “Awww, shit”, I think. “What does this bastard want to complain about.” (Yes, bastard. If I can call my nephew one, I can call anyone one, damn it.)

“Yes, sir, can I help you?” I ask, as he draws near.

“You want to write an easy ticket?” He asks.

Uh, no. I think to myself. Do you see the gold stripes on my arm? I don’t write tickets? What I said was, “Why? What do you got?”

“There is a car of here parked facing the wrong direction, engine on, blocking cars and stopping traffic from moving.”

He takes me to the car. I ask the club owner to see if it belongs to anyone inside. He comes back and says that he made an announcement and no one came forth,. I get on the radio and ask the dispatcher to send a wrecker for street blockage. No big deal.

Skip ahead to waiting on wrecker, talking to Officer Jessie, who keeps me company while her rookie helps out with traffic control. This guy comes walking by, with out a shit on and Officer Jessie ponders out loud, “I wonder who he’s been trying to fight?” I look around to see the guy as he walks pass on the side walk. Sure enough, he is without a shirt, but he doesn’t look like he has been in a fight, to me, nor does he look like he was about to start trouble (and trust me, I can spot the trouble makers. I have a knack.

Anyway, I follow him until he disappears into the crowd and then resume my conversation with Jessie. All of a sudden I see a crowd develop within the crowd and if you remember you days of elementary school, the development of a crowd is always a sure sign that a fight has begun or is about to begin. This one had begun, and me and Jessie are the only ones paying attention to it.
I break out running and yelling, because I know I have to nip this shit in the bud before it explodes into another fight, because that’s just how they do out on this strip; police be damned. But I don’t play that shit. Damn it, you see me here in full police uniform, you best break off and stop the bullshit. I ain’t play.

The fight turns out to be between this heavy set women, in tight ass silver spandex tights. Her friend is trying to pull her away, after myself and Officer Jessie on view her strike some guy in the crowd. I just want her to go away and the problem to be over. But uh, no. She is so hot that she is pulling away from her friend, ignoring me, and still trying to provoke a fight with the man who is hyped up now that the police are here.

“Yeah, Yeah, I want to press charges!” He is yelling. “She slapped me in the face!”

“Yeah, well that motherfucker is out here cheating on me,” she is yelling back. And they are doing this back and forth and the crowd is yelling and some tall ass, full back look bastard is just hyping her up all the more. So, since I have no megaphone, I have to use the tool that God gave me. I am yelling for the crowd to disperse and for big ass man to shut his trap or I was going to put his big butt in jail my damn self.

The other officers, who are still a block up the street hear me yelling and come to running. They know if I am yelling at folks, there is a problem, plus it’s just fun to see me break character and put large group of people in check using only my voice. I have them separate the couple and move them away from the crowd, but not before the woman is placed in cuffs for domestic violence.

Now, as we are escorting the tow people involved to the side, I am not approached by some guy.
“Officer, can I speak to you for a moment.” (What the hell does this guy want? More drama?)
For the second time that night I allow myself to be pulled over to the side for a little private convo. The guy proceeds to tell me how he knows the woman and how she shouldn’t have to go to jail because she has young children at home and is there any way possible I could cut her a break…blah, blah, blah.

Now, let me just say that there is zero tolerance on family violence, just because of the possibility of the violence escalating if someone isn’t removed from the equation. That being sad, I love kids and I was almost about to buy into the guys story when I hear the woman cussing out some other guys in the crowd and fighting against the officers. This makes the decision for me. I tell the guy if the woman was so worried about her children she would be at home with them instead of being out on at the clubs, at two o’clock in the morning getting into fights.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.