The Ride Along

I approached the house at five minutes to 11 PM. It was April 13th, a dark Thursday night. The smell of someone grilling grew stronger as I approached the police house, now shadowed with orange lights to keep the area bright. I walked in the door and attempted to use the intercom. I stared stupidly at the metal box, waiting for some sign that it was working (Figure 3). I heard a clicking to my right and saw through the glass openings of the door that someone was unlocking it. I opened the white door, and explained why I was there. The lady told me to wait in the waiting room until the briefing was finished, a silver stud pierced through her nose distracted my attention as it shined by the fluorescent lights.

I hear people entering and exiting in the back of the house as I rely on Michael Jackson’s music video Thriller to entertain me. I hear an officer in the back offering rice krispies to the other officers as the cheesy plot of the video makes me smile. I didn’t know what to expect, I mean, I’ve seen Cops, I know what happens on ride alongs, but what was going to happen to me. I secretly wished for something horrible to happen. I had a commitment to my readers, after all. I took the time while I was waiting to come up with ridiculous possibilities of the nights events; it helped the time pass after the music video ended.

Finally, Officer Honeycutt came out and took me out to his car, I was surprised to find that there was a JVC brand cd player in the dash. I always assumed that police cruisers didn’t have a stereo in the car. I didn’t inquire about the stereo as I sat awkwardly in the chair waiting for something to happen. It was 11:41 PM before the wheels finally started to roll, my heart, on the other hand, had already been reeling for over an hour.

The engine roared as Officer Honeycutt told me not to tell him if I get scared of his driving.When we get a “hot call,” “… [you can] be scared, when I get scared,” he said. A “hot call,” is when the officer gets to speed and run through lights during an emergency. “I trust my driving, and if you tell me that you are scared, it’ll distract me. I have to scan more when I drive like that,” he explained. Doubtful that I would afraid of his driving. I still showed my support for his driving by referencing a video I saw, “Ya, I understand, I saw a documentary on The Discovery Channel, I think, about the increased training that police officers have for driving,” I paused, rethinking where I saw it. “Or was it Police Academy?” I jokingly questioned myself. I shrugged my shoulders and the purr of the engine returned to the foreground.