Here's to Officer Dan

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Every semester my best friend, Anna, and I have a run in with the cops. Anywhere else in America, this would seem to be a big deal. Anna and I would look like little bad-a hoodlums. Rebels without a cause. But alas, we live in Rexburg, Idaho. The place where the police will pull you over for anything- just so they have something to do.

(I recall our first semester in college when Anna got pulled over for having a Hawaii license plate in her back window. He claimed she was in violation of the law "fictious licensing." We had to bite our tongues so not to throw sarcasm back at him. "Yes officer, we see how someone could obviously get confused as to which license plate is ours- the one in the window hidden by the stuffed animals and viking hat, or the two Idaho plates attached to the front and back of the car.")

The fact of whether or not Anna and I have ever gotten OURSELVES into trouble with the police is debatable.

You see, Anna has a big heart. Curse it. One of the most Christlike people I know, she is always there for her friends. And what's worse, she's always there to make new ones. So every once in a while she'll bring a new found puppy into our close knit circle. The puppy seems nice enough at first. We all try not to judge. And Anna gives them a little bit of her heart. And then they want a little bit more. A little more. Until they are yearning for the whole thing. Pretty soon you have stalkers, kidnapping, and talks about "not being judgemental" when breaking the law is done with style. It's always something. Every semester.

Enter Officer Dan.

Officer Dan works for the Rexburg police department. He alone has dealt with one of our apartment stalkers, one man that would climb up the walls of our apartment complex to have sex with our roommate, our next door neighbors cleptomaniac who ended up being married with five foster children, and one attempted kidnapping on a crisp Saturday morning. Needless to say, Officer Dan is not a very happy cop. On multiple occasions you'd hear him say "this is stupid" or "why did it get this far?" He rolls his eyes as he dusts off the doughnut crumbs from his uniform and then informs us of all the different ways we can get our "friend" turned into a convict. I think he's just annoyed with us because we've never pressed charges. He's never had to arrest someone in our behalf. We're obviously just wasting his time. But after this semester's emotionally unstable comrade had the cops called on her, Anna and I were sure that our dealings with Officer Dan were over. At least, for this semester.

March 2006. Prank war. My roommate and two girls next door against two young men angry at the Maxi Pads stuck to their car. One thing led to another, and the boys ended up breaking into the apartment next door, ripping the fire extinguisher out of the wall and spraying the whole apartment. Problem: An innocent roommate had awoken to tell the pranksters to keep it down- she was trying to sleep. When she started down the stairs, she was obviously mistaken for a fire, because the boys sprayed her down. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. The boys were already gone by the time she had stumbled outside, her hair and clothes white with the residue. Anger and melo drama led one girl to call an ambulance (as opposed to taking the dry heaver to the hospital ourselves, which would have been much too good of an idea). So the ambulance came. Followed by three cop cars and the sheriff.

"Welcome back," said Anna as Officer Dan stomped up the stairs of our townhouse. His glare was not one to be matched. Poor Officer Dan. Having to deal with us again. It would be the third time this semester that he had to come to our townhouse. And the third time he would have to leave without anyone pressing charges.

So here's to Officer Dan. We thank you for your dedication to this wonderful city of Rexburg, Idaho. For putting us in the "Police Beat" section of the newspaper every other week. And here's to next semester. May it bring more stories, more laughter, and maybe even let you arrest someone.

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