The allure of motorcycle patrol duty, as exemplified by Ponch and Jon of the California Highway Patrol, stemmed from more than just practicality. The shiny black boots, aviator sunglasses, and tight pants contributed to an image that many young officers aspired to. The position of motor officer was highly coveted. However, after two serious traffic collisions involving officers, the Chief, concerned for the safety of his personnel, made the difficult decision to cancel the motorcycle program. From then on, traffic division assignments would be carried out in patrol cars.
This change in policy opened the door for the author, a two-year officer brimming with enthusiasm and an abundance of adrenaline, to secure a position in the traffic division – simply because no one else applied. For over two years, the author worked the DUI watch from Wednesday through Saturday, enjoying the freedom to patrol the city without being tied to specific beat responsibilities. The assignment allowed for responding to exciting incidents and avoiding report writing. The nightly routine consisted of issuing traffic tickets, handling collision reports, and apprehending drunk drivers.
One busy Friday night, the author received a call about a motorcycle down. The accident occurred when the driver, heavily intoxicated, struck a curb, resulting in a face-plant into the cement. The driver stood on the curb, looking dazed with blood running down his face and vomit down his shirt. The author, observing the scene and the wrecked Harley, felt an urge to giggle at the absurdity of it all. Maintaining a professional demeanor, the author put on a poker face.
Officer Peregrin arrived to assist with the field sobriety tests, while Corporal Sugar began setting up flares to divert the heavy traffic.
As the driver attempted to walk heel-to-toe, he lurched across the sidewalk. Officer Peregrin and the author grabbed his arms to prevent another fall. As they sat him down on the curb, a loud, explosive fart echoed through the night. The drunk driver sheepishly looked up, grinned, and said, “’Scuse me, darlin.”
There they were, illuminated by flare smoke and flashing lights, with traffic slowly passing by and onlookers straining to catch a glimpse of the scene. A man sat injured on the curb, his motorcycle in pieces, while three police officers doubled over with laughter. The rest of the night, all it took was someone to say, “‘Scuse me, darling,” to trigger another fit of laughter.
Later, while recounting the story to non-police friends, the author found themself laughing uncontrollably. However, the friends did not share the amusement. Their expressions seemed to convey, “What is wrong with you?” It became clear that some experiences are best shared only with fellow officers who understand the unique realities of the job.
Dark humor is a coping mechanism, a way to find levity in the face of serious or painful situations. First responders, frequently exposed to such events, often rely on dark humor as a defense mechanism. It allows them to find absurdity when they feel like crying, helping them navigate the challenges of their profession. It’s a way to get through the job.
(Feature image courtesy Robert Thivierge)