Tonight State Patrol brought in a drunk guy in. He had vomited on himself on the way to the jail, so he smelled pretty rank.

He was nice enough though. He did everything I asked him to do and even called me “sir” after he said anything. As in, “Yes, Sir”, “No, Sir”, and “Ok, Sir”. The only complaints I had, were that he was smelling of vomit, and that he was unable to stand on his own. This second problem of the ‘not standing’ really wouldn’t have been a problem, had he not had vomit on himself, because I was the one who had to help him stay upright. Not easy, or especially good smelling.

Another officer and I took him to a changing room and managed to get his vomited covered clothes off of him. Not exactly easy since he couldn’t even undo his pants button by himself. I would love to chalk this up to the “NOT MY JOB” department, but from time to time, it seems I get to put on my caretaker hat and go about the business.

Last week another drunk old man came in after being sprayed with pepper spray. He was also unable to do anything on his own, and was even unable to sit straight in a chair. I patted his face with cold water for about 20 minutes to alleviate the spray; all while changing from yelling to drunken sleep.

Both of these men had to be taken to the hospital before we could process them into jail. Policy states that if they are above a certain level of intoxication, they have to be checked by a physician to ensure that they are healthy enough to be in jail.

The vomit guy went to the hospital, but not before the trooper tried to get a breath test taken. It wasn’t good. The test takes a while to administer, and the testee has to sign a couple of papers to affirm that they understand the process. This poor drunk guy couldn’t even hold the pen to sign his own name. THAT is drunk.

So, the trooper gets ready to take him to the hospital and the drunk guy starts talking gibberish. He starts talking like Snoop Dog, but imagine if Snoop had no teeth, was from Tennessee, and was reeeeally drunk.

He started saying “Sheezy”, over and over again, so I said “Fo Shizzle, my Nizzle”, which must have been the funniest thing they guy had heard all day, because he started laughing and giggling like it was absolutely hilarious. We exchanged Snoopisms for a bit. A little Shizzle here, a heezy  or two there. Then the trooper took him away to the hospital.

He came back later that night but was in the sleepy stage of drunk then, so he pretty much just went straight to bed.

It was pretty funny. The guy will probably wake up tomorrow morning wondering where the heck he is. “Yo in jail my nizzle.”

Tonight I was assigned to the medical unit. It was about 8 o’clock, and another officer came in to give me a break, so I went out to booking. I heard a rumor that a regular was back and I wanted to see for myself.

Suddenly, the radio blared that there was a fight in the G-unit. “Officers to G-unit!! There’s a fight at the top of the stairs!! Officers to G-unit!!”

Everyone ran.

At the top of the stairs in the unit were two inmates exchanging blows. One with a ripped shirt and the other with a nasty cut under his eye.

We started barking for the inmates in the common areas to get to their bunks, and we ran up the stairs to the fight.

By the time we reached the top, the inmates had separated on thier own. They were finished.

We cuffed them both and took them out of the area. On the way out, the inmates, I swear, started clapping applause.

The inmate with the ripped shirt went to a holding booth at booking, while the officers with the guy who’s eye got cut looked for somewhere to put him. Since he was cut, I told them to take him to see medical so he could be cleared or see if he needed stitches. He probably didn’t need any, but it’s better to CYA than not.

I went to see what story the guy with the ripped shirt was spinning and I wasn’t surprised to hear that the fight was over the TV. According to him, the fight started because of a programming disagreement. As far as I understood, the guy with the ripped shirt thought he was in charge of the TV and the other guy did too.

I went to hear the other side of the story, and it was the same, except that according to they guy with the cut eye, HE was just defending himself, and “didn’t want to fight at all”. Unlikely story.

And it was. According to the video, it was pretty much mutual combat, and they were both locked down for the next 3 days.

It’s been a while since I was at work when we had any real fight in the jail, so it was weird to hear that call from the radio. I suppose with the holidays, people will probably be more edgy. It’s also a reminder that things can go bad at anytime, anywhere.

Speaking of things going bad, in the Clark County Jail (Vancouver, WA) tonight, there was an inmate who took another inmate hostage for a little over an hour. It ended with everyone ok, but it’s freaky to think that I could be just going about my job, and suddenly be involved in a situation involving a SWAT team and negotiator.

So, according to my stats, I have accumulated about 4 dollars… total from the ads I have on this site. I’m not complaining, I don’t do it for the moolah. It’s just interesting that I have been writing for over 2 years with ads of some sort on my pages, and all I have to show for it is 123 posts (this one makes 124), 128 comments, and 4 dollars.

The funny thing, is that I don’t ever get paid unless I break 100 dollars, so by my math, I won’t get anything until the year 2055. That’s assuming I keep writing and keep earning at the same pace as the last two years. I’ll be almost 80 by then.

If I had more readers, I suppose I would potentially earn more, but I also think almost everyone has become “Ad Blind”. I admit, when I go to a site, I never click ads. I usually don’t even see them. They could be blinking and flashing and screaming at me to click them, but I just don’t see them anymore.

I don’t really care about money for this blog. I would love to be a millionaire from it, but I don’t expect that to ever happen. I just thought it was interesting.