The D.C. Odyssey - Episode 1
Someone told me that I should write a book about some of my adventures. I don't know about a book, but I think that I might just share a few of my adventures here.
It was 1999, and the FOP put together a trip to Washington D.C. to supposedly accomplish two things: 1) have us attend Police Week memorial activities, and 2) Market some merchandise. The first objective was met with a great deal of success. The second one was perhaps the most textbook example of what happens when a bunch of ham - handed cops try their hand at business. It was a total disaster. It's funny now, but sure wasn't at the time.
Our State President at the time decided that he had the end all solution as far as money goes - market "stuff": T-shirts, Coffee Mugs, all manner of flotsam and jetsam and pure crap. Yes indeed, people were going to buy this crap like it's going out of style. And where did he get this brilliant idea? Our brothers in New York. They market stuff and make a killing. What our business genius president did not take into account was that people like "stuff" from New York, but have little use of "stuff" from Minnesota. On top of that, we have a really ugly logo. I do my level best to try and avoid using it.
So, we have a booth near the Washington FOP lodge, and we're going to sell stuff. The problem is getting this crap to D.C. The solution? Rent a van and trailer and drive out. Oh boy, we're having fun now.
Anyone who has been a member of any fraternal organization is going to know exactly what I'm about to talk to you about. Whenever something is needed (beer, building supplies, legal services, etc.) and brought up at a meeting, there's always some wanna be bigshot who will raise his hand and proudly announce that his brother - in - law or some other schmuck that he knows can get the goods or services for cheap or free. Hell, half the time they'll pay us just to do or provide something. Of course, we all know how this works - the bigshot wanna be is nothing more than bluster, fluster and bullshit, and you end up paying full price.
We picked up our full price van and trailer and headed east. My traveling companions were Lumpy, Heckel and Jeckel. Lumpy was our administrative person, Heckel and Jeckel were two cops from southern Minnesota. By the end of this trip, I was willing to gleefully disembowel each one of them, and there is not a jury in the world that would have convicted me.
Lumpy is a smoker. And I mean a smoker. A few years ago he smoked three packs a day of Marlboro hard packs. His wife yelled at him to at least switch to light cigs - which he did, but now he smokes 5 packs a day. If anyone has gone on a long road trip with a heavy smoker - and not allowed them to smoke in the vehicle - you know how quickly white hot hatred can grow, as every 1/2 hour they tell you "I have to pee" which really means, "I have to smoke". I am not putting you on when I tell you that, when we stopped at rest areas on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he would hide from us so he could suck down another cancer stick. I was so pissed that I actually began driving away from one stop. I honestly hoped that he be found by a gay motorcycle gang and that they would have their way with him for hours on end. Alas, Heckel and Jeckel wouldn't let me - they came about one second away from physical restraints. It did get Lumpy's attention, though, as he came running, huffing and puffing down the entrance ramp. I sneered into his face and said "next time, you WILL be left here". When I told him about my gay motorcycle gang fantasy, he was visibly shaken, and never did it again.
We left Minneapolis at 10:00 PM. Another brilliant move, as we were driving through Chicago and we got to the Windy City just in time for a legendary morning rush hour traffic jam. And guess who was driving. At least Lumpy was asleep, because there was no frikkin way I was pulling off of the freeway in South Chicago so that ashtray breath can have another butt.....hmmm, come to think of it, maybe that would have been a solution!
To be continued.
It was 1999, and the FOP put together a trip to Washington D.C. to supposedly accomplish two things: 1) have us attend Police Week memorial activities, and 2) Market some merchandise. The first objective was met with a great deal of success. The second one was perhaps the most textbook example of what happens when a bunch of ham - handed cops try their hand at business. It was a total disaster. It's funny now, but sure wasn't at the time.
Our State President at the time decided that he had the end all solution as far as money goes - market "stuff": T-shirts, Coffee Mugs, all manner of flotsam and jetsam and pure crap. Yes indeed, people were going to buy this crap like it's going out of style. And where did he get this brilliant idea? Our brothers in New York. They market stuff and make a killing. What our business genius president did not take into account was that people like "stuff" from New York, but have little use of "stuff" from Minnesota. On top of that, we have a really ugly logo. I do my level best to try and avoid using it.
So, we have a booth near the Washington FOP lodge, and we're going to sell stuff. The problem is getting this crap to D.C. The solution? Rent a van and trailer and drive out. Oh boy, we're having fun now.
Anyone who has been a member of any fraternal organization is going to know exactly what I'm about to talk to you about. Whenever something is needed (beer, building supplies, legal services, etc.) and brought up at a meeting, there's always some wanna be bigshot who will raise his hand and proudly announce that his brother - in - law or some other schmuck that he knows can get the goods or services for cheap or free. Hell, half the time they'll pay us just to do or provide something. Of course, we all know how this works - the bigshot wanna be is nothing more than bluster, fluster and bullshit, and you end up paying full price.
We picked up our full price van and trailer and headed east. My traveling companions were Lumpy, Heckel and Jeckel. Lumpy was our administrative person, Heckel and Jeckel were two cops from southern Minnesota. By the end of this trip, I was willing to gleefully disembowel each one of them, and there is not a jury in the world that would have convicted me.
Lumpy is a smoker. And I mean a smoker. A few years ago he smoked three packs a day of Marlboro hard packs. His wife yelled at him to at least switch to light cigs - which he did, but now he smokes 5 packs a day. If anyone has gone on a long road trip with a heavy smoker - and not allowed them to smoke in the vehicle - you know how quickly white hot hatred can grow, as every 1/2 hour they tell you "I have to pee" which really means, "I have to smoke". I am not putting you on when I tell you that, when we stopped at rest areas on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he would hide from us so he could suck down another cancer stick. I was so pissed that I actually began driving away from one stop. I honestly hoped that he be found by a gay motorcycle gang and that they would have their way with him for hours on end. Alas, Heckel and Jeckel wouldn't let me - they came about one second away from physical restraints. It did get Lumpy's attention, though, as he came running, huffing and puffing down the entrance ramp. I sneered into his face and said "next time, you WILL be left here". When I told him about my gay motorcycle gang fantasy, he was visibly shaken, and never did it again.
We left Minneapolis at 10:00 PM. Another brilliant move, as we were driving through Chicago and we got to the Windy City just in time for a legendary morning rush hour traffic jam. And guess who was driving. At least Lumpy was asleep, because there was no frikkin way I was pulling off of the freeway in South Chicago so that ashtray breath can have another butt.....hmmm, come to think of it, maybe that would have been a solution!
To be continued.
posted by Chuck at 6:30 AM
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