I seem have the unique opportunity to a front row seat to the weirdness of the world. At work I get to handle all sorts of strange things. I think back to a warrant arrest I helped out on in when I was first on the street. I was still under the supervision of a field training officer. The subject was a pre op transsexual and I wasn’t sure if she was pre op or post op male or female. So I had to ask, “So, uh.. are you a male or female?” I needed to ask because male officers don’t search female prisoners the way that we search males. So my next question was “Uh.., are those breasts uh, real?” So now is where the weirdness begins. My FTO tells me you need to get those out. “What if he has drugs or a weapon hidden in there?” My response “Are you kidding me? I have to go into his bra?” My FTO thought it was good times. I didn’t. I had him handcuffed so I had to reach in his bra and pull out the doubled up, rubber/silicon bra inserts. He told me he got them at Fredrick’s of Hollywood. They looked like little breasts with nipples and all. He had them stuffed two per side to get the size and shape he desired. So, now I know where to get bra inserts if I want to start cross dressing. The best part of the whole encounter was when I had to put his purse and fake boobies into property so he could get them out when he got out of jail. I had them in a plastic bag sitting next to me on the desk in the report writing area. Several officers were so amazed at his boobies they were passing the bag of boobs around poking and squeezing away at the imitation boobies. At the time I was new and thought it was weird to see dudes passing around a bag of boobies. Now it’s just funny.
By far the weirdest thing that happened to me occurred several years back. My wife and I were headed to Linda’s Doll Hut in Anaheim to see my buddy Jeff’s band Piggyback play. I would love to hear “love letter” live again. That song kicked ass, but they split up so no joy. If you have never been to the Doll Hut, it’s a hut, not really, but it is a very small house in the middle of a industrial part of Anaheim. And I know by the name you were thinking strip club but it’s not. I hesitate to use the word dump to describe the place because it has so much character. But it had to be a 1000 Sq feet or less for the whole bar. In order to make room for the band to play the pool table had to be pushed back out of the way.
When my wife and I arrived there was a crowd of 20-30 punk rock types milling around the front of the joint. I made my way to the entrance and after getting carded to get in, Yep I used to look young enough to get carded, anyway we entered. Keep in mind the bar is about 5 feet from the door, and then you have your choice of going left or right. I think left used to be a bedroom and right used to be a living room, but it’s just a guess. In the midst of the stink of cigarette smoke and booze was a small bar with three trashy older bar flies that did not appear to be there to hear the band, as they looked like characters out of the movie Bar fly. I notice an older white guy with a fro. Instantly it struck me at how much he looked like my father. Yup my dad had a fro. Growing up I wished I had a fro like my dad because we all know the saying Fros=chicks is true, and when I was younger I needed all the help I could get. I still scored a hot wife but the fro would have been cool and who knows, maybe pushed me to male super model status. My good looks and a fro, shoot.., nuff said.
But as soon as I saw this man, like a bolt of lightning it struck me. Now, my father died 13 years before this, when I was 10 years old. But I couldn’t help but think how much this guy looked just like my dad would look if he was still alive. It was like all of the ambient noise was gone and suddenly the guy looked over his left shoulder at me and it sounded like he said “Hey Aaron, how’s it going?” I freaked out. My heart skipped a beat and started to race, I instantly turned the other way to go around the left side of the bar by the KISS pinball machine (very cool). As we rounded the corner out of sight from what was ‘cool, looks like my dad dude’ to ‘holy crap freakiest moment in life, mind reading, back from the dead dude’. My wife tugs at my hand (we still held hands back then) and says “do you know that guy at the bar who was calling you?” I just about pooped my pants. I was thinking that I misheard the guy. But now it was turning into a full blown weird out. I asked her if she heard him say my name, she confirmed she did. I played it cool like it was no big deal. We had only been married months so I didn’t want her to think I was a sissy and freaked out by creepy fro guy so I passed it off like we misheard it.
So by the time we got around to the other side again, dude was gone. I was glad. Piggyback played and kicked ass. Jeff got up on the bar in the same spot where the possessed incarnation of my dad had been sitting and while singing one of the songs, feeling the moment, stuck his head into the moving ceiling fan to stop the blades with his head, which was awesome. As if him stopping the fan blades with his forehead wasn’t awesome enough, he finished the set with blood running down his forehead. Bonus.
At work I see weird things all the time, like two weeks ago when I went to a call. I went into the kitchen of this dumpy little trailer and I saw blood covering the floor, fridge, all over the walls, ceiling, and dude with a bloody pumpkin head with a wooden chair on top of him with the leg looking like it was stuck into his forehead. Then the dude says “I’m good, I’m ok” Holy crap I just about shot him. I thought he was dead; he shouldn’t be freaking me out talking. We start moving crap away and it turns out that the leg was not stuck in his face, but his face was swelling around the leg of the chair from the savage beating he had just endured. But the three 40’s of Steel Reserve malt liquor had him feeling no pain. So I start talking to dude to figure out who he is and what happened, but he is very hard to understand because his face is swelling shut, even though his cheek is ripped open. He says, “I’m ok, you guys can split... hey, can I bum a loosie (single cigarette)?” I tell him “dude you don’t need a smoke you need medical help”. He responds “I’m good” So I take the opportunity to pull a line from Pulp Fiction. “Dude, you are pretty freaking far from good.” After I got the gist of what happened, I broke the bad news to him that his stack of vintage porn VHS tapes was covered in blood. He was bummed. Well the dialog ended as he was being moved out of the trailer on the gurney. His head had swelled to the point he went unconscious. He is still unconscious and may not make it. As weird as it was to have a guy with his face splayed open ask me for a cigarette, it’s still not as strange as the weird out at the Doll Hut.
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