BLITHERING, BUMBLING, AND RAMBLING #12
IS THAT YOUR LIZARD?
When I worked in the IRS office in Sacramento, there were some signs at the doors that pets weren’t allowed, but some folks persisted. It led to some interesting moments, as people insisted they couldn’t go anywhere without little Fido, or Fifi, and claimed they were service pets. This could be mildly amusing if the pet was a cat, or the dog was some hyperactive little yipper that wouldn’t sit still or shut up. But then the rules changed.
The new rules were that “comfort” pets were allowed in. When the employees were briefed on this, naturally, we wanted to know what that meant. ‘Anything and Everything” was the answer the supervisor gave. Uh Ooohhhhhhh.
Apparently, pets were still not allowed in, unless they were comfort pets, needed to calm their owner. No actual license, training, or proof was necessary if the owner claimed it. The new rule opened up the floodgates on pet definitions. Under the original rule, only service dogs were the exception. Under the new rules, any pet, generally that could be domesticated, was allowed. And as it became more well known, more started to show up. Some people had them on leashes, some in carriers, but a fair amount came in tucked under the arm of the owner. Since my cubicle was right next to the receptionist, I often got early warning of one coming. Usually it was by hearing the receptionist ask what kind of “creature” is that?
We had folks come in with rabbits, Guinea pigs, chickens, cats, turtles, parrots, and the list goes on. We were warned that some offices had experienced boa constrictors, Gila Monsters, and monkeys. (Excuse me sir, but your Armadillo seems to be chewing on my stapler!). Apparently a lot of people who had tax issues, needed comfort.
One day a lady came in with a large bag and went into one of the cubicles. After some raised voices came from the cubicle, the office security came over, and walked out escorting the lady who was hugging her bag. A little while later the employee from that cubicle started talking about what was in the bag, she said it was a mongoose. The security guard said it was a chinchilla. Tomato/Toe-MA- toe. Either way, it became the reason why bags coming into the office were more thoroughly searched. It was probably also the reason why the security guard backed up a couple steps every time someone opened up a bag to show what was inside.
And so the phrase was generated “it’s a zoo out there today”. One of the other employees said their all time favorite was when a when a lady walked into her cubicle with a pot belly pig on a leash, and both the lady and the pig were wearing matching purple flowered hats. Comforting? Well, I don’t know if the pig would agree.
RIGHT FIELD
There is a song by Peter, Paul and Mary called Right Field that brings back a memory from years back. The song is about how a kid in Little League realizes he’s stuck in right field is because the coach and everybody on the team thinks the ball will never go there. If you’ve ever heard the song, it has a way of making you reminisce about those games when you were a kid. And on to the memory……
I was talked into coaching girls softball by a friend of mine who had coached his kids teams for years. We had a mix of abilities on the team, but there were two little girls on the team who had never played before. One of them was named Olivia. Olivia’s parents were very nice, came to every game, and cheered her on enthusiastically. Olivia was a sweet kid who smiled a lot, and was pretty cheerful most of the time. She wanted to play shortstop, and catcher, and pitch. Good goals we said, but you really gotta learn how to catch and throw first.
Now, a lot of first year kids were in the same boat, so when we had the kids warm up by playing catch with each other, we stood back about 20 feet to the side, because errant throws were common, and 7 and 8 year old kids didn’t reach out and save you from the ball much. Coaching at that level involved a lot of ducking, leaning out of the way, and yelling “watch out” to people who weren’t expecting their child to toss the ball sideways. And after multiple practices and a few games, you knew who could catch and throw, and who couldn’t. So, yeah, you knew who was gonna be put in right field.
Olivia was one of those kids who only watched what was going on around her when she was playing catch or batting. The rest of the time, she would stare off into the distance, wave to family and friends watching, start conversations with other players, or take off her mitt and start playing with it. A happy kid, but a bit distracted.
So, in one of our most competitive games, our team was leading 2 to 1 in the bottom of the last inning. There were two outs and one kid on base. And Olivia was in right field. The kid at bat hits a hard grounder which goes through the right side. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. Nooooooooooo. The second we all look to the right as the ball heads into the field, we see Olivia, laying on her side, her mitt on the ground beside her, picking at the outfield grass, and, because she is a happy kid, singing to herself.
The runner on base scores, the batter rounds first and heads to second. The crowd and the team explode in a torrent of yelling directions at Olivia, as the ball rolls past her left side, about ten feet away. Olivia jumps to her feet and struggles to get her mitt on, sure that something has just happened, but unclear as to what it is. The second baseman and center fielder both start running for the ball because despite the pointing and shouting, Olivia starts to run the wrong way away from the ball. The other two players get to the ball first, but the batter is already heading for home, the other team erupting into ecstatic glee, as they score, and win.
For several years after that I coached softball. And several times I coached against the guy who had coached with me that year. We would chuckle about how we lost a close one because our right fielder found the landscaping more interesting. And whenever I hear that Peter, Paul, and Mary song, it all comes back to thinking about little Olivia and right field. It also comes back sometimes when I’m picking the dandelions out of my lawn. Darn thing is, my wife wonders why I’ll yank out the little yellow flowers and just smile and shake my head.
LONG TIME NO SEE
Way back in the 80’s when I was working for the police department I was riding with another officer and we pulled over a drunk driver. The driver was affable, and extremely apologetic, as he failed all the sobriety tests and was taken into custody. We were headed up to the jail with him in the backseat and the conversation was flowing nicely. He decided we were nice enough guys, and that we were treating him fairly. Well, uh, thanks, we said, we don’t hear that often, especially from the back seat. And then….
A car pulled onto the freeway a short distance ahead of me and started weaving across two lanes of traffic. We decided we would pull it over before it hit something, and have another unit take it from there. Both the Sheriff’s Office and Highway patrol said they didn’t have anybody nearby, but they would start heading our way. I turned on my lights, but the other guy didn’t stop. I hooted the siren, but he kept going. Hmmmmmm.
I turned on the siren, and the spotlight, and honked, he continued on at about 50 mph. The guy in the back seat said “that guy’s all over the road, probably drunk ”. The guy I was riding with piped in “”Takes one to know one”. The guy in the back seat, not the least offended, said “Well, thanks, I guess I am somewhat of an expert on the subject”. I admit, we all three chuckled at that one.
“You gonna ram him off the road?” The guy in the backseat wanted to know. I was trying to talk on the radio while Mr. Backseat was asking questions. I could only imagine what it must have sounded like to the Dispatcher and other units, because the siren was going in the background as well. It must have sounded pretty dramatic because a minute later the Highway Patrol came screeching up to us and, with their two cars and mine, we formed a wedge on the weaving car and slowly edged him to the side of the freeway, although he kept going at 20 mph for another mile. ‘’This is pretty exciting stuff”. Mr. Backseat said, “you guys do this all the time?” And the slow motion pursuit continued.
We finally stopped the driver, and after getting him out of the car, we, (big surprise) found him to be inebriated as well. The Highway Patrol said they would take care of towing his car if we wanted to take him to jail. How nice, I thought, a twofer.
As we were doing our final pat down of the driver outside the car, we were asking him how much he’d had to drink, why he didn’t pull over, etc, Each time he answered, Mr Backseat spoke loudly “He’s lyin”, lock him up!”
A little confused about the voice from within the car, the driver asked who it was. ‘’ Another Guy going to jail” we told him. When we set him inside the car, he looked over at Mr Backseat and said “What are you here for?”
As the other officer and I got back in the patrol car, Mr. Backseat responded “Same as you, Doug” , which just happened to be the driver’s name. The driver squinted at Mr Backseat, in the darkness, a few seconds later said “Bob, is that you?” “Sure is” came the reply. They both burst out laughing. Turns out those guys knew each other since about the third grade. They hadn’t seen one another in a couple years, and they spent the rest of the ride catching up a little bit and joking about their jailhouse reunion, maybe going 50-50 on a cheap attorney.
They laughed a lot, they each claimed the other was a bigger criminal mastermind, and they talked about going on a radio talkshow to share their partners-in-crime experience with the world. Mr Backseat said he hoped we found them entertaining. “A real Frick and Frack show” I said. Mr Backseat replied “Well, thanks, we don’t hear that often, especially from the front seat!” He then laughed loudly, while his old friend next to him laughed too. Ok, yeah they were both pretty drunk, and it’s doubtful the second guy even understood what he was laughing at.
The story got repeated several times around the P.D. For awhile there, I was known as the guy who reunited Frick and Frack. I was talking about it one day in the front office, and the Chief’s secretary said it sounded like they would always have a slightly different view of what it’s like to run into an old friend. Then she giggled.
I told her that as we were leaving the jail, the deputies were putting one in a holding cell so they could process the other. As the one is being led away he says to the other, “Gotta go Bob, see ya in lockup”. To which the other said, “Pull over sooner next time, give us more time to catch up”.
Then the secretary threw her head back and REALLY laughed for a while.