Date: 2008-01-09
To: Another War Story
Miles today: 0.0

Disclaimer: What follows is true but has little to do with Trails or Journals. As mentioned before, please bypass if this isn¢t your cup of tea.After I was discharged from the Marines in 1978, I decided I better go get a job. I was born and raised in Houston, Texas so I headed back to my native city. Around that time I remember having this re-occurring dream where I was a police officer who saved some lady that was getting attacked, putting the bad guy into prison for the rest of his life. Boy was I na ve back then. But it did make me ponder the idea of becoming a cop.So, I went down to the police station, took the physical (no problem), got background and criminal checks (no problem), ran an agility test (no problem) and was finally put on a polygraph and asked if I had ever used an illegal drug in the past (Houston, we have a problem). I told them the truth ¢ I had smoked pot once while in the Marines ¢ that was it (it honestly was). Back then you could be a cop if you had smoked pot before ¢ just not in the past two years. That screwed me. They said come back and apply in two years.I hunted around some other places for work and then had my lucky day. The Post Office was hiring letter carriers in Houston. It was a federal job, good benefits, pretty good pay. So I became a mailman and for the second time in my life I was daily carrying a heavy item (a mail pouch) on my shoulders. For some reason I really enjoyed this job. I think it was the freedom of getting out on your walking route and getting paid for the exercise. In hindsight I know now that I have always enjoyed walking/hiking. I liked the job so much that after two years, when I could have re-applied for the cop job, I stuck with the Post Office.But I kept getting those dreams where I would save someone and make the world a better place. I didn¢t have a clue why ¢ they were just happening. In 1981, after three years with the Post Office, I re-applied to be a Houston cop. This time I made it. Went though a 12-week academy and, like all new cops, spent the first six months riding with, and being evaluated by, a senior officer.I would remain a cop in Houston for sixteen years, leaving in 1997. A lot of those years were as a traditional patrol officer, running all kinds of calls. Back in the early 80¢s Houston was going through a population boom. The city was over 600 square miles in size. Through all of this the police force remained woefully undermanned. As a result, most patrol officers had to ride ¢one-man¢ cars to cover the area and calls for service. Riding one-man can be pretty dangerous at times. Especially for little shrimps like me. I can remember one time trying to arrest this guy who looked gigantic. I mean I had to at least TRY to arrest him. I had to literally jump up to put my arm around his neck. My plan was to pull him to the ground. Bad plan. He threw me to the ground and ran off. In Houston the deadly force policy was that you could shoot only if your life, or the life of another, was in danger. Couldn't shoot, so he got away.I only had one, really serious, incident happen to me while a police officer. It resulted (partially) in my decision to leave the police department after sixteen years. I¢ll share it with you in my next journal entry.