A Roll Of The Dice

Sometimes walking into the place is just a roll of the dice what you are going to end up with.  Even though Raccoon City isn't rocking like it did in the old days, there is still some excitement now and then.

Take last night for example.  What did I have?  Petty silliness.  An ignorant greedy punk trying to hog a couple of music disks.  Nothing.

But apparently after I left the snit hit the fan.

When it was hot, we put fans in all of the wings to help circulate the air.  But since this cold snap descended, we took them away the other night.  When it's 30 degrees outside, they don't need fans blowing on them.  Enough said.

Well, apparently the offenders have gotten used to the sound of the fans at night and demanded them back.  When the wing officer told them no, a bunch of them got huffy and demanded to see a Lieutenant.  Instead they got two pissed off Sergeants and five CO's all standing in the wing after coming there at a run.

They were told in no uncertain terms that not only were they NOT getting the fans back but if another peep was heard there were going to be about a dozen of them trotting off to the Hive in handcuffs.  That seemed to quiet them down some, as I didn't hear a thing about the issue this evening.

Not long after that some knucklehead set fire to his cell down in the Hive and then refused to come out.  That turned into a big mess with Sgt Drew right in the middle of it, almost drowning in paperwork.

He told me on the way out tonight "I always heard you guys tell those stories and now it happened to me!  I get what you're saying now!  The place is like a drug!"

It's so true.  Running on adrenaline can be quite addicting.  But it's hard on your body, let me tell ya!  I can show you the scars, pal.

Any of that stuff could have happened on our shift, or in our house or wherever we happened to be at the time.

It's just a roll of the dice...