My Job, My Hell...

Share a survival experience with us and explain what you learned from it. You might help someone.

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12_Gauge_Chimp
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by 12_Gauge_Chimp » Mon Jul 27, 2020 11:43 pm

Speaking of getting mouthy with cops, I'm reminded of an incident that happened at the first and only rodeo I've ever been to. Which now that I think about it, was almost 30 years ago.

The short story is my dad got drunk, decided to get into an argument with my mother as we're leaving the rodeo arena and then take a swing at probably the tallest cop in Pecos, Texas. It didn't end well for Dad and he got planted on his ass by this cop.

The long story goes like this.

We go to the rodeo and enjoy it. Dad drinks as much as he can without passing out and as we're leaving the rodeo, decides to go after Mom because she didn't like him getting drunk and then want to drive the family home. Dad takes offense to that and goes off on a Budweiser fueled tirade. This attracts the attention of two Pecos PD officers, one of whom was probably about 7 foot tall or maybe a little more. Not sure why this is an important detail, but it's definitely one of the major things I remember from then. Anyway, the two cops come over and try to calm Dad down. Dad decides it's a good idea to get belligerent with the cops and then to take a swing at the tall cop. Yeah, that ended about as badly for him as you'd expect.

You remember the scene in "The Princess Bride" where Andre the Giant clubs the weird albino henchman over the head ? That's pretty much what happened to my dad. Dad takes a swing, gets clubbed on the head and gets planted on his ass by the giant cop.

A couple seconds later and he's handcuffed in the back of a cruiser. Dad goes to jail and Mom takes the family home to Coyanosa (which was about 30 miles away) and goes back to Pecos to bail Dad out the next morning. And that's the end of it. Dad never talked about it for the rest of his life and I think he may have blocked it out or he simply couldn't remember it because he was so drunk at the time.

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Jul 28, 2020 1:07 pm

12_Gauge_Chimp wrote:
Mon Jul 27, 2020 11:43 pm
Speaking of getting mouthy with cops, I'm reminded of an incident that happened at the first and only rodeo I've ever been to. Which now that I think about it, was almost 30 years ago.

The short story is my dad got drunk, decided to get into an argument with my mother as we're leaving the rodeo arena and then take a swing at probably the tallest cop in Pecos, Texas. It didn't end well for Dad and he got planted on his ass by this cop.

The long story goes like this.

We go to the rodeo and enjoy it. Dad drinks as much as he can without passing out and as we're leaving the rodeo, decides to go after Mom because she didn't like him getting drunk and then want to drive the family home. Dad takes offense to that and goes off on a Budweiser fueled tirade. This attracts the attention of two Pecos PD officers, one of whom was probably about 7 foot tall or maybe a little more. Not sure why this is an important detail, but it's definitely one of the major things I remember from then. Anyway, the two cops come over and try to calm Dad down. Dad decides it's a good idea to get belligerent with the cops and then to take a swing at the tall cop. Yeah, that ended about as badly for him as you'd expect.

You remember the scene in "The Princess Bride" where Andre the Giant clubs the weird albino henchman over the head ? That's pretty much what happened to my dad. Dad takes a swing, gets clubbed on the head and gets planted on his ass by the giant cop.

A couple seconds later and he's handcuffed in the back of a cruiser. Dad goes to jail and Mom takes the family home to Coyanosa (which was about 30 miles away) and goes back to Pecos to bail Dad out the next morning. And that's the end of it. Dad never talked about it for the rest of his life and I think he may have blocked it out or he simply couldn't remember it because he was so drunk at the time.

All my grandparents told me was that no matter how I felt (dealing with Cops) I was to pay them nothing but respect, respond with a honorific, and be on my best behavior. Oh and never ever run, no matter what, because they would shoot you as you ran away. Of course after they left choice words or a hissy fit were allowed.

My father and mother's take on it was I should never even hit the cops radar. Oh and my Father said he would not bail me out, or my brother John.

My only "brush" with the American police came when the kids I hung out with and I were out riding Honda CT70's and Tommy wanted to take the streets instead of going off road. Now I have ran from the shore patrol in Olongapo City, and I did pop up on the Shore Patrol's radar in Rota Spain, and Naples Italy. No witnesses that would talk, so it was just forgotten. Although I did find out that my First Sergeant noted two incidents in his file and forwarded it to my next command.

It was really shorter to take the road, rather than a circuitous trail to his house.

The plan was to stick to the road, if by some slim chance a Sheriffs deputy saw us we would all split up and hit the woods.

Of course the Goddess of Luck was not on our side, so I immediately took off.

None of the other guys rabbited, and of course I was ratted out.

So the Sheriff's deputy was sitting in my Father's drive way when I got home, worse was the after the Cop left, but I'll be doggone if my Father didn't give the guy a beer.d
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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