I had just joined the citizen crimefighting group called the Guardian Angels [Read Part 1 here], and now it was time for my first real job: a night patrol!
GLOSSARY OF GUARDIAN ANGEL TERMS
POST UP: Stand side by side in a single file line. This shouldn't be done in front of glass windows, because Guardian Angels can be pushed through.
HAVE A SQUAT: To sit down and rest while on patrol.
MAD DOGGING: To give a dirty look.
MY FIRST NIGHT PATROL
Our patrol leader goes by the code name "Street Hawk." He looks like he could do a person much harm. Five of us leave Guardian Angels HQ. "I'm going to have to search all of you," demands Street Hawk. Didn't that just happen?! Again, I'm manhandled. Maybe he just likes searching people.
"We do this in front of the public, to let them know we don't carry weapons," he explains, as if reading my mind.
Street Hawk is an 8 year veteran. He confesses that he doesn't have a girlfriend, because he's married to the Guardian Angels. I'm guessing the sex is not as good.
My "team" goes into what is called a "diamond formation": two in front, two in back and one in the middle. Our job is to look for no-good-niks. This is like dressing up and playing army. Collectively we must look like a pathetic, diamond-shaped crew. There's me (a dreadlocked buffoon), two 17-year-olds, and Tubby. We will infiltrate fear into the heart of no one. But I do enjoy walking in a group of similarly dressed people. We all are dressed alike! I haven't done this since my days playing organized sports.
HOW TO MAKE A CRACK BUST
Street Hawk tells us that smoking crack on Venice Boardwalk is a minor misdemeanor. The police usually don't want to get involved because it requires holding the crack enthusiast for two hours after which they only receive a small fine. So what you do is:
1) Tell the crack enthusiast to "destroy the crack pipe." This involves stepping on it.
2) If they refuse, tell them again "destroy the crack pipe."
3) If they still refuse, get on the cell phone and "pretend" to call the police. This is called a "Code Blue." Then, using the Second City art of improv, enact a conversation with a police officer, until they give up the crack pipe.
4) If this still doesn't work, tell them once again "destroy the crack pipe."
Marijuana is almost a laughable offense. There's pretty much nothing to do about it. I forgot to ask about heroin.
It's very quiet on the dark, deserted beachfront. That's fine with me. I hope we don't come across real gangsters. What the hell would I do?!
Street Hawk gives a few pointers. "If you see a guy with a gun, dog-pile on top of him!" I get the image of a pile of dead Guardian Angels with a gun-toter on the bottom, shooting his way out.
"First, try to talk your way out of situations. If that doesn't work, do what you have to do!"
Being on patrol is actually boring. It's much like walking in silence. I get the odd feeling there's going to be some sort of hazing. My red beret will be pulled over my eyes. I'll be hit with large sticks. And then, I will have officially passed the initiation.
That doesn't happen. Instead, the two 17-year-olds are pulling the gag where they stop and see how far we will walk before noticing. This is very funny to them.
Just then, the Guardian Angel bike patrol leader from NY passes us (bicycle, not motorcycle). The NY Angels have come out to this chapter to help whip it into shape. I note a mild rivalry between the bike and walking Guardian Angels. Kind of like an East Coast/West Coast rap rivalry.
The bike leader mad-dogs Street Hawk. "Why are your men laughing on patrol! And smoking!"
Street Hawk looks back. This touches a nerve. "Tuck in your shirt Cha-Chi!" Street Hawk commands.
"Gotta get my Shakespeare together!" I say. Apparently, I'm a disgrace to the Guardian Angels. As soon as the bikes are out of sight, Street Hawk yells, "Post up!"
He paces back and forth in silence as we silently watch him. After five minutes, we march on.
"People look more toward the Guardian Angels then the cops. If a Guardian Angel Frosts up, it's like a hero Frost-ing up. Like OJ or Mike Tyson," explains Street Hawk before we go back into walking in stony silence.
We make it to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica; an affluent area of LA which resembles an outdoor shopping mall. I give a security guard a respectful nod. We are in the same law enforcement genre, except he gets paid.
"Tourists are sometimes scared of us. They think we're 'The Bloods' because of our red berets," explains Street Hawk to his men.
I do feel part of a gang; a gang of good! I know getting laid is out of the question. If you want to avoid getting laid again, this would be the outfit to wear. This uniform seems to be a female detractor. And yet, I thought women loved a man in uniform.
"Hi ladies!" I say to some coeds walking by. They look at me like I'm a big floppy-shoed clown with a red nose.
As we continue walking diamond formation through the crowd of well-dressed people, I hear various comments.
"Ha! Look at the Guardian Angels!"
"Here comes the Boy Scouts!"
"It's Charlie's Angels!"
My training has taught me to ignore these comments. Police officers mad dog us with dirty looks. They hate us! Is it because we're taking away some of their action? The bike leader pedals up, momentarily stopping. Out of the blue he says, "My girlfriend is better looking than 90% of the women here!" He rides off again.
A large crowd is gathered around a loud, annoying street juggler.
"I think we have a situation!" I say, alarmed, ready to make a citizen's arrest.
Street Hawk doesn't agree.
"You got to do what you got to do!" I confirm.
He still doesn't agree, but I firmly believe bad street performing should be a crime!
Please continue to Part 3: Finally, some action!
|
|
Store
2,232 
7 
