my night in a LAPD car

You could say I’m a nice girl, most of the time.

Often I find myself in situations in which I consider: I’m either crazy, God has an insanely hilarious sense of humor, or both got combined and we’re all just having hilarity cocktails.

Recently I’ve been pulling this stint where I go work shifts at random hospitals to make some money while I wait for my full-time job to start. This is, one the one hand, genius, and on the other hand, really stressful and it requires gobs of adaptive ability. Naturally I can’t deny it.

Last night I was asked to work in downtown LA at a well-known and very busy hospital. I arrived and got my assignment, got to work, and within a few hours got hungry. I don’t know why, maybe because I’m a Texan, I thought downtown LA would be hoppin’ on Friday night. Just me? Come on. I thought Lady Gaga would be there as soon as I stepped out. Or MIley. Or somebody? Come on Ryan Seacrest, I know you’re up there in your skyrise apartment.

I was told there was a Subway nearby open until 2 am, and that I could walk there if I was, you know, up for it. Meanwhile I’m thinking, okay dude working the ER, I’m wearing a bright flowery scrub top! I look adorable! What on earth makes you think I wouldn’t walk out into the dark shady streets of downtown LA!? How dare you!

He showed me the way and bid me farewell (he was probably thinking….forever) under his breath.

I walked as aware as I could be to Subway, got a foot-long Spicy Italian (no mayonnaise, because it was technically my 4th meal), and saw a nice big black and white LAPD car outside Subway.

Reasoning: I can either walk the longer way back to the front of the ER and get drugs offered to me or I can these somewhat-friendly looking cops if they’ll give a sista a ride.

Me: “Hi…I’m a nurse at Good Sam. I’m scared to walk the long way around to the ER. Can I….ride with you?”

Woman police in passenger seat: “Uh…why are you out here?”

Me: “I was hungry.” (obvious tone, sandwich bag in hand)

WP: “Oh. Yes. Let me open it.”

I got in the back seat. IT WAS DARK. My pupils dilated HARD.

So I got you all hyped up about this but it was only about 3 blocks, and the car smelled like old Funyuns, and all I could hear was nonsense on the walkie-talkie. Sadly the FBI nor the CIA were calling this specific car last night.

There was no indoor handle to open (imagine that), so I had to wait to be escorted out of the vehicle. I felt like a celebrity. There was almost a red carpet, but it was more like a mat leading into the ER entrance. It’ll do for now. We can upgrade later.

I got back to the 8th floor, and in the safety of the nurses’ lounge, the Spicy Italian was perfect.

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2 thoughts on “my night in a LAPD car

  1. From now until your next post paints you otherwise, you’re perpetually in my imagination wearing flowered scrubs, eating a big Spicy Italian, and riding through dark alleys in a cop car.

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