Working the graveyard shift in a remote county area on the Highway Patrol doesn’t give you many healthy options for a good meal. Truck stops, fast food, and the occasional hot dog from the local gas station are your only choices. After ingesting one of those “meals”, my graveyard partner and I received a call near the farthest reaches of the county of a crash where the car rolled over.
We started responding to the crash when something I had ingested did not agree with me. Suffice it to say, I was in trouble. There were no bathrooms anywhere near us. Twenty minutes later, we arrived on scene and, after determining the crash to be a non-injury crash, I ran to the trunk of the patrol car and grabbed a roll of toilet paper. I ran past the perimeter fence into the darkness of an open field where I proceeded to “take care of business” in the most primitive of ways.
Soon after, the fire department arrived and used the large spot lamps on their truck to illuminate the scene, which unfortunately included me. I used my jacket in a feeble attempt to conceal myself. What I hadn’t realized in my haste was that I was right next to a herd of cows and a very large bull in the field. The bull was not too happy with my presence. I immediately cleaned up and sprinted back over the fence where I was met by my partner and firemen. Of course, they were all laughing hysterically. -AG
The author, Brian Smith, served four years in the United States Marine Corps, and retired as an Assistant Chief with the California Highway Patrol. He resides in Bakersfield, CA. If you have a personal “Cop Tale” to share, please contact Brian at firstname.lastname@example.org