Ride Along

I started out my shift on a ride along with the Durham police. I couldn’t find the regular stuff, so I ate a box of children’s Dramamine and then sat for three hours with my forehead pressed against the passenger window while the sergeant drove around in circles pointing out frat houses and stop signs. Durham doesn’t have much going on, especially on a Wednesday night. We pulled into the parking lot of a run-down apartment complex. “You should see this place on a Friday night,” he said. “Or a Saturday. Or even a Thursday. It’s crazy.”

But it wasn’t a Friday or a Saturday or even a Thursday. It was Wednesday, the town was deserted, and I was starting to see things.

We headed south toward Great Bay until the air became thick and smelled like week-old egg salad. It made me hungry. I thought I saw a heard of buffalo sleeping in a pile. The sergeant pulled over and pointed beyond an electric fence. “See that herd of buffalo sleeping in a pile?”

They have farms for that sort of thing in New Hampshire.

As we headed back to town, we saw a deer who apparently wasn’t affiliated with a farm standing on the side of the road. And a bunch of trees. A rock. Another stop sign.

We ended the night by stopping at Dunkin Donuts. I peeled my head off the window and got out of the car. Three hours of sitting and staring mixed with Dramamine and sheer boredom resulted in a bad case of the jelly legs. I tried to walk to the front door, but stumbled in a large half-circle to the middle of the parking lot. I thought the sergeant was going to make me touch my nose and walk toe-to-toe before continuing on. But he was already inside, slightly leaning over the display case, rubbing his hands together, considering the possibilities.