The St. Patrick’s Day Massacre

St. Patrick’s Day. A day when spirits are high and BACs are higher. For police officers, it’s a day when everyone is having fun — except you — because you have to work.

This traditionally religious Irish holiday, now mainly celebrated with malted beverages and dollar store leprechaun hats, tends to create a slight increase in calls for service. Expecting a busy night, those of us working in detectives during the evening shift were asked to hop in a car and be available to help out Patrol should the need arise. I paired up with a fellow detective who was a 6’4” red head, one of the funniest humans I know, and who I affectionately refer to as the Ginger Giant.

Home Alone

We drove around the downtown area in an unmarked car watching a sea of red-faced people dressed in green adorned with beaded necklaces and giant top hats as they ebbed and flowed from one bar to another. It was busy, but nothing crazy. Yet.

Our shift waned to a close and all was relatively quiet on the eastern front. We were ready to pack it in, but before we could come out of our shift unscathed a call came in for a burglary in progress. A young lady was home alone and had frantically called 911 because someone was trying to break in through the back door of her home.

Stealth Mode

My partner and I weren’t far so we fired up the roof and responded to the gated neighborhood lined with 19th century brownstones. We tactically shut our lights off and made a stealthy approach to retain the element of surprise. Within a couple of minutes we were first on scene and ready to nominate ourselves for life saving awards as soon as the butt kicking and name taking was over.

Unfortunately, there would be no life saving awards for us that night.

We parked, quietly shut our doors, and approached on foot. Navigating the street by the ambient light of the Victorian style street lamps we skirted the row of brownstones using bushes and parked cars as concealment. The Ginger Giant and I noted the street number on each door as we passed by which served as a countdown to our arrival. We communicated in whispers as the caller’s address loomed in front of us.

The Discovery

The night air was cool and damp and the revelry of downtown quietly echoed off the old brick buildings. We briefly stopped to listen as we found ourselves only a stone’s throw from where the burglary was happening. I strained my ears to filter out the distant noises coming from the bars and focused on what was in front of me. Hearing nothing, we made our final approach up a handful of stone steps that led to the mudroom at the back of the house. My view through the window of the mudroom door broadened with each step. When I got to the top I looked in and that’s when I made the grisly discovery.

There inside the mudroom, slumped against the molding of the back door, was an inebriated fellow with his pants around his ankles who had just dropped a deuce right in the center of the threshold. This twenty-something had gotten himself so hammered that he had staggered into the mudroom possibly in search of a white porcelain pot at the end of the rainbow. He either hallucinated that he had found it or just simply gave up and figured the threshold of the back door would do just as well. I will spare you the details but it was going to take more than a bottle of 409 and some paper towels to right that wrong. The Ginger Giant and I looked at each other and immediately thought, This looks like a job for Patrol.

After Mr. Poopy Pants was loaded into the Paddy Wagon and the realization set in that this would not be the day we earned a life saving award, it was time to go alleviate the young lady’s fears. This was going to be a somewhat awkward conversation, and the only way I could think to begin it was, I have some good news and I have some bad news…

The Nature Of The Beast

Police work is like a box of chocolates — you never know what you’re going to get — or which ones aren’t even actually chocolate. Any given day, shift, or call can start out one way and then end completely different than you expected. One minute you’re going hot and heavy to a call to save the day, and the next minute you’re a haphazard bathroom attendant experiencing his worst day ever. Such is the nature of the beast.

The Unexpected

General Dwight D. Eisenhower said that, Plans are useless, but planning is indispensable. And Mike Tyson said, Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth. (Sure, he’s a little crazy but makes a good point). I think what these guys are getting at is that preparation and mindset are important, but no plan is perfect. You must be able to adapt when the bombs drop or the punches land. When things fall apart or you encounter the unexpected you have to keep yourself together. So be flexible, be adaptable, and be ready to pivot.

Whether it’s the next call you go to or the next curveball that life throws your way, be ready to change tactics at a moments notice. If you’ve done the work and prepared your mind you will have positioned yourself for the best possible outcome. Being rigid under the weight of change could cause you to break.

Expect the unexpected. Anticipate change. Roll with the punches.

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• When was the last time you were caught by surprise?
• How do you react when things don’t go as planned?
• How can you better mentally prepare or anticipate the unexpected?
• Are you willing to pivot and change or do you refuse to budge?

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