LateNightPen's Blog

Regressions

LateNightPen — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 12:42:39 +0000

Last weekend, a young woman was kicked out of a bar for fighting and made her way to the parking ramp. Friends tried getting her in their car and she began hitting them. She then threw herself on the nasty cement floor and began flailing around like a two year old. While our officer called police/EMS, she screamed and hit her head on the cement repeatedly. When police arrived she called one of them the “n” word and he got REALLY mad. She tried kicking him and he pushed her to the ground where she hit her head on the police squad on her way down. Her pants fell down and her fanny stuck out so the female officer grabbed her pants quick and tried to pull them back up but got nothing but jiggling butt cheeks. They finally got her in the back of the squad and she began hurling over and over. They opened the door for her while the female officer yelled, “I just had that car washed!”. Then she began yelling that she wasn’t even drunk and she had no idea why police were arresting her. I hope they took her some place warm where she can continue to live out her fantasy as queen of the world and throw her temper tantrums to a much more sympathetic audience.

What a Guy Won’t Do for Detox

LateNightPen — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 12:16:34 +0000

Some people fear detox, some people call it home. To everyone, it is the city’s solution for drunks that are not drunk enough to go to hospital but too drunk to be able to tell a cab where they live. For many alcoholics on the street it is a warm bed and they will do anything to get into it. A while ago, a booth operator had a drunk male in a wheel chair come up to her booth and demand she call police so he can go to detox. When she told him that she wasn’t going to call the police unless there was a crime commited (the wrong thing to say) he wheeled over to her gate and ripped it off and stared at her defiantly. Another time, a detoxee called the helpline (buttons on the exit stations that patrons can drive up to and when their ticket gets stuck they can push for assistance). I got a call on the helpline and on the other end was a drunk man who whispered “can you take me to detox, please?”. But by far the best, has to be the drunk man that walked up to me, stared at me, then dropped his pants to his ankles and said, “I’d like to go to detox”. He surely did.

Working Off Those Donuts

LateNightPen — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 12:16:53 +0000

Now, I have to preface this story with saying, we write what we love. I love security guards and cops, and if we can’t laugh at ourselves, we will surely go insane.

A security officer I supervise told me this story about his mother, yes, his mother. She was arrested for OWI (Wisconsin’s DUI) in Stoughton several years ago. She was in the back of a squad, which didn’t have the metal cage, and the officer who “caught” her was in the front. The officer was so overweight that he had to take most of his duty belt off to fit in the seat, including his radio. After she was arrested, the officer got out to talk to another officer, leaving the security officer’s mother in the backseat. She was a particularily limber person, so she was able to get her handcuffed arms out from behind her by slipping them below her legs. She then proceded to climb to the front seat, and slowly drive away. The officer didn’t notice at first. When he did look over and see his car slowly leaving, he began “running” after it. He had no radio to call for help, because it was on the seat. So she’d slow down and each time he almost caught up to it, she’d speed up. This went on for several blocks until the officer just couldn’t run any more. So, she stopped, got out, put her handcuffs back behind her back, and climbed in the backseat and waited.

During the trial, the defense attorney had her tell the incident exactly as it happened. When she began yelling in the courtroom, “run, piggy, run!” which is apparently what she yelled out the window, even the judge couldn’t stop laughing hysterically. She made a point of telling the judge that she stopped at every stop sign and according to witnesses, she did exactly that. She got a reduced sentence for some type of temporary insanity plea. To this day, the security officer that told me this story, says he still gets free drinks in bars in Stoughton because they know him as “so and so’s son”.

Dirty “Cops”

LateNightPen — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 08:40:59 +0000

One of our officers told me this story. He said when he first started with the company several years ago, he was training with a Sergeant (no longer with the company) walking the downtown area at about 2 am. He said they came upon a woman on her knees performing a sex act on a male in an alley. The new officer prepared to walk up to them and promptly demand that they stop when the Sergeant put his hand out and beckoned the officer to quietly follow him. The Sergeant walked up behind the male, with the officer right behind the Sergeant, and looked over the male’s shoulder, down at the woman. They were so engaged in what they were doing that they didn’t notice for a couple of seconds. Then the woman opens her eyes and looks up and gasps when she sees the man in uniform on the shoulder of her male friend. The Sergeant promptly says, “Don’t stop! You’ve got a line forming.”

An Ode to Still Being Drunk at Sunrise

LateNightPen — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 12:41:44 +0000

Out of all the stories I have told over a bottle of beer and gamecube over the years, this is still my friend Wendy’s favorite. Now it must be noted before I begin that my friend Wendy is the same friend who once repeatedly asked me, “Can I do a drive-by with you some time?” It only took a couple of times of her asking, for me to realize she meant “ride-along”. Yes Wendy, the next drive-by I do, you can come with.

So, there used to be this nasty, smelly, greasy food cart called “Jin’s Chicken Shack” parked on the street in front of the ramps for drunks to buy chicken sandwiches at. It was SO popular that it had an “express” window where instead of $5 a sandwich, you could line up in the street for a $10 sandwich, same sandwich, just faster. Driving through the ramp, you could smell the nausiating smell of chicken grease. I think it made one of the booth operators go insane.

One morning, at 6:00 am, two of our officers find a male passed out flat on his back in the grass in front of the ramp. They wake him up and send him on his way. He is showing obvious signs of still being drunk. He walks away and the officers notice he left his flip flops. They yell at him to come back and get them. He turns around and walks back right up to a half eaten chicken sandwich laying in the grass near the flip flops. He stops, puts a foot out, and starts trying to put his toes between the bun and the chicken. Finally, he thinks he has his flip flops on and turns to leave. In the middle of laughing, the officers say, “No, you need to come back and get your flip flops”. So, he walks up to the chicken sandwich and tries again. The officers finally get him to his flip flops and he is on his way home. There is nothing like waking up with a bad hang over, wondering why there is mayonaise on your toes.

A Little Ditty

LateNightPen — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 12:10:58 +0000

You know you are really tired when you carry around a soda can for ten minutes before you realize you threw your squad keys in the recycle bin.

A Valentine’s Day Story

LateNightPen — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 11:20:26 +0000

I don’t know exactly when this happened because the city workers said they were having so much fun watching it that they didn’t want to call security. A woman in sweat pants and t-shirt (in zero degree weather) pitched a fit with her (apparent) husband for THIRTY minutes in the parking garage. She screamed and yelled, hit his chest, got down on the ground and beat her fist, and yelled all kinds of things like, “you’re seeing other women on the internet”, “how could you do this to me?”" And when her thirty minute screaming fit didn’t get her what she wanted, she walked over to his car, pulled her pants down to her ankles, aimed her bare behind high in the air, and urinated on his hood.

There were three booth operators crammed into one booth watching the whole fit. They said the male kept looking over at them so they turned the light off in the booth so they could still watch. Eventually the male got her in the car, drove up to the booth to pay, which by then she had her shirt off and was sitting there screaming with her ta tas hanging out, and he drove out of the ramp with pee on his hood.

Women’s Lib

LateNightPen — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 23:38:01 +0000

The Federal Security Officer next to one of our sites told me this story. He said he was on his way to work, in his uniform, when he saw three women dressed scantilly that looked like they were on their way back from a tennis match. Apparently a guy rode his bicycle passed them and reached out and pinched one of the women in the ass. Our valant Security Officer said he was going to stop and help when he saw one of them throw her tennis racket at the guy on the bike, it spun top over bottom, and hit the guy square in the head knocking him off the bike.

Jesus Saves

LateNightPen — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 23:33:43 +0000

One of the city supervisors told me that a few years ago, a male tried commiting suicide by jumping off one of our five story parking ramps. He must have gotten tired going up the flights of stairs because he only got to the second floor when he decided to jump. The booth operator got to see him land face down in his exit lane. Apparently the man got up and screamed, “Jesus, take me away!” That beats the booth operator who had the suicidal squirrel land in her exit lane.

Barney “Pipe”

LateNightPen — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 23:29:08 +0000

Disclaimer: We have a general client policy based on the fact that the DA won’t usually prosecute very small amounts of marijuana, that we destroy these small amts and pipes when we find them. And unfortunately, one of the only classes I missed in the police academy was on drugs and I’ve never personally used or been around them much. So sometimes I have difficulty distinguishing one drug from another.

On with the story: One night while on foot patrol I walked up to a stairwell door just in time to see a male sitting on the steps about to light a substance in a commonly known type of marijuana pipe. I open the door, utilize my quick thinking skills, put out my hand and demand he turn it over. He hands me the pipe and a film holder with a small round pot looking (or at least to me) block in it. In good keeping with our client’s general policy of “stop them from what they are doing and get them to leave”, I demand he leave at once while I put the items in my pocket for later disposal. He gives me a surprised look and runs as fast as his overweight body can get him up the stairs.

I walk away and take out the substance and pipe and examine it closer before crushing it and tossing it. My brain makes the mental process of “huh, it is hard like a rock, what is hard like a rock?…….Oh my God!”. I promptly call police and give them the items and my stupid story of how I came upon the items. Later, I began imagining the druggy thinking, “damn security guard stole my crack!”. For weeks, no months, later I heard endless jokes about how ‘sarge steals crack from people’.

A YEAR later, I was doing a post inspection on one of my officers. When I get to the section on identifying procedures I gave him the scenerio of, “what would you do if you found someone doing drugs in the ramps”. He straightens up his shirt and promptly gives the answer of, “Well, I’d demand he give it to me and I’d put it in my pocket”. Smart ass.