“For just a few hours…”Jungle cat Bitches”.

Today was not my day.
I have a REAL elderly parent and she sees the yellow tape at the end of the race so she’s trying to tie up loose ends.
This would not be fun in the first place, but my Mom never won any contests for Miss Congeniality so it was a day of hauling her around in the sun & listening to her chew out Bank staff, Nurses, basically anybody who got in the way of her wrath while sitting there with my face buried in my hand. Finally after a full day of this I get home to Lady Hero & dinner at a Hawaiian restaurant that just opened in Ozona when it hits me…
“Man, I got to patrol.”
I’m wiped out & on my last leg you think I’d just want to watch the Hula dancers, get home & hit the rack after the Simpson’s or something but no…
“Man I got to patrol.”
So I suit up & head for St. Pete, I get a coffee & head for the Highway when the light in front of me turns yellow. “Yellow light? No F*&^king problem…I put my foot down on the gas & nothing happens… that’s when it dawns on me…
“Oh my GOD! I’m not in the Supermobile! I’m going to F^%$ing DIE!”
So I’m literally standing on the Brake Horizontally and I think the Sentra is doing that “Bunching up” thing that the car the Pink Panther had that had a Mind of it’s own would do when it was trying to keep from sailing over a cliff or something when I manage to come to a stop right before the intersection.
I’m sitting there shaking & I look down & realize “Wow I didn’t spill a drop of coffee.”
Now that IS a superpower. You think that would be the end of it but…
“Man I got to patrol.”
So I get down there and things finally start to take a swing up. I’m on foot and there’s some kind of huge block party going on, 5 people stopped me that had seen me on HBO & supported what we were doing, another bunch just wanted photos with me or to talk about what I was doing there, but even this wasn’t quenching my desire to be out there.
“Man I got to patrol.”
So I walk away from all that & get back into the quiet, Darker, Spookier part of the city. And that’s when it finally dawns on me.
“I’m patrolling.”
“This has to be the bottom line draw to this for a lot of guys.” I think to myself.
Throughout the day they’re everyday yutzes but for just a few hours a night…
They get to be a F&*^king Jungle Cat. It’s dark, their tights are compressing against their muscles, they’re looking for prey, for just a few hours they get to be on top of the food chain in some form or another.
Everything is right in their world.
I don’t know why it’s on patrol that I always have moments of clarity, I wonder if other guys are the same way.
Because when it’s done, it’s back home to do the F*&^king dishes.
Live the Gimmick
SH