DETECTIVE

DETECTIVE

I’m overwhelmed with emotion right now. All of my friends and co-workers are here for my retirement party. It seems like my service in law enforcement has just flown by, especially the last 11 years as a detective. As luck would have it, I’m also receiving tonight, the highest commendation from the department, a letter of appreciation from the President of the Unites States, and most enjoyably, an apology from two senior guys. What a way to point an exclamation mark on a 30 year career.

Actually I had planned on retiring a few weeks ago when I got my 30 in, and would have, if weren’t for the Fairbanks case. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was so horrified at the crime scene that I promised myself right then and there that I wouldn’t quit until we brought the perpetrator to justice.

It was around 10:30pm on a Wednesday evening and my shift was just about over. I was looking forward to a stiff drink and a few days off, when I got the call. I could tell by the frantic tone from the first responders that this wasn’t going to be a typical case.

I hit the lights on my unmarked car and made it halfway across town in about 5 minutes. As I rounded the corner I was greeted by the familiar sight of flashing lights and the street was already full of patrol cars and firefighters.

I parked half a block away because the boys in blue had already taped off the area as a crime scene, and they were ushering onlookers away from the house. As I approached the house I was greeted by my old friend Greg Bailey. Greg and I go way back, in fact we were even partners for a while in my patrol days. Greg is a seasoned veteran and has seen it all, that’s why I knew this was something big, by just looking at his face as he approached.

By this time the whole place was crawling with uniforms and reporters. I asked him what the hell was going on here and he held a finger up to his lips and motioned for me to meet him over by his patrol car. I can remember the hair standing up on the back of my neck as we walked towards the car. We are part of a small department and it was very unusual for an officer to feel the need to discuss a crime scene in private.

Greg told me to get to work quickly because he had already received a call from the FBI and they instructed him to preserve the crime scene as they had two agents on the way. He was further instructed to turn over his jurisdiction and command of the crime scene to the suits as soon as they arrived. This must not be your garden variety homicide case.

Our conversation was interrupted by a cell phone call and Greg briefly put one hand over the phone and mouthed the word “Captain” and then he waived me off, while he was evidently getting chewed out on the phone. Judging by the urgency in Greg’s voice, I immediately turned my attention to surveying the area. I briefly talked to a few of the neighbors and eye witnesses and jotted down a few notes. I’ve found that sometimes the most seemingly insignificant facts or statements can latter turn out to be items of key evidence.

Our forensics guy had not yet arrived so I decided to start the investigation on my own. Out of habit I carry my own little digital camera and began taking pictures of the entire area. I’ve learned that it’s a smart practice to capture things in pictures before a bunch of firemen and paramedics start trammeling thru the evidence. As I was putting on a pair of latex gloves I noticed a cell phone, partially covered in blood in the driveway. It might be evidence so I grabbed it. As I made my way to the garage I also picked up a half charred piece of paper with some directions on it.

I hadn’t taken a dozen photos and my cell phone rang. A quick look at the screen showed it to be a call from Captain Miller. I’d never admit to this but I was sure he was calling to tell me to stay outside the perimeter until the FBI guys established control. Well, I would never knowingly disobey an order or hesitate in taking an urgent call from a superior but after all, it was a very noisy crime scene and it would be easy to miss the sound of a cell call.

I put the phone back in my jacket pocket and went about the task of gathering evidence. I counted as least 6 dead bodies that had most likely met their end by a horrendous blast that easily took out the garage and east half of the house. There was debris and body parts strewn everywhere, I figured it would take days to sift thru all the evidence.

I noticed two black Suburban’s making their way past the make shift barricades and toward the house. Well it didn’t take much law enforcement skill to guess who had arrived at the scene. I could see the two agents in their neat suits talking with Greg in the distance and gesturing over toward the house and in my direction. A few seconds latter I heard Greg’s voice over the bull horn instructing all personnel from our agency to meet him over by his patrol car.

At first I pretended that I didn’t hear the announcement but there was no mistaking the exaggerated hand signals that were directed my way, and I figured I had better comply. As I was walking back towards the road, I felt a metallic object under my shoe. I bend down as if tying my shoe laces and quickly scooped up the object into a small plastic evidence bag I had in my jacket pocket.

As we gathered around the command center, the FBI guys introduced themselves and made it clear that they were now in charge and would have their own people here shortly to take over the forensic investigation. They advised us to leave this matter to the “professionals”. I can’t speak for Greg or anyone else but I was aggravated that these Fed’s could waltz into our community and our jurisdiction and just take over our jobs.

We were all asked if we had disturbed or gathered any evidence and I simply shook my head and walked slowly away. As I was leaving the agent in charge made it clear that they would most likely stop by the station the next day to interview our people to see if we could be of any assistance.

I was already beat from a 12 hour shift and headed right back to my house when I left Fairbanks Street. As I drove back across town, I had a hard time getting the mental picture of all that carnage out of my mind. Sure I had been a cop for a long time, but I never really got used to seeing all that type of useless violence.

I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. The images from earlier in the evening kept running thru my mind. My instincts told me that there was something, something that just didn’t add up. How did the Feds get involved and how could they be on site so quickly. Why were the field agents so insistent on getting our people out of the area so quickly? Where those 6 guys laying scattered on the lawn victims or was it a pure accident? Maybe the whole thing was just my tired cop mind, trying to rationalize the evening’s events. In any case I finally nodded of to sleep.

The next day I was off but I got called into work, because we were to be debriefed by the Field Agents. Each of us that were present the night before were called into the office one at a time. We were told that they had determined the deaths to be accidental from a gas leak explosion. It seemed rather odd to me that they were more interested in what we did or didn’t know then actually trying to gather data to sort out the incident. After telling them that I did a casual walk thru and had no clues or evidence to offer them, they quickly sent me on my way.

Over the course of the next few days I was increasingly sure that the boys from Washington had tried to put one over on our “less sophisticated” small town law enforcement officers. My gut told me this whole deal was being swept under the rug and there was a full scale cover up in progress.

Over the next few days I worked on the case behind the scenes, in my spare time, using my police credentials and resources to interview people and gather evidence. It turns out that our recently departed friends were part of a terrorist cell that also worked part time as apprentice bomb makers. The item I picked up on the lawn that night was a military style detonator and judging by the damage done from the blast, they had a great deal of explosives on hand.

When I tracked the numbers stored in the cell phone I picked up, it lead me to the apartment of a middle eastern women that lived downtown. The FBI had been tracking one of our late friends and a 7th member of the team, a women, who had led them to the house on Fairbanks. As luck would have it she was out doing whatever terrorist type women do on a Wednesday night and missed out on the fireworks. The FBI team picked her up before she got back to the house and brought her back to D.C. for questioning. They figured that was the extent of her involvement in the case. She didn’t tell them anything and they neglected to inform her as to the fate of her x-friends. When they released her a few hours latter, she evidentially figured her clan was still on schedule to show off the efforts of their bomb making house party.

From there it was a no brainer to put a surveillance team on her and after a day to make sure she wasn’t being followed she headed right to the international airport to meet the other half of the cell. I noticed her standing out side the door nervously checking her watch and looking anxiously for her team members. Fortunately for us, the two teams had never met and as a security precaution, our girlfriend was the only liaison between the two groups. She also had no idea as of yet, that the only way she was going to meet up with the Fairbanks six was in the morgue or on her day of reckoning.

From there it wasn’t too hard to spot the rest of her party when they pulled up in a white van. All four of them each only had one piece of luggage, a “golf club case”. They tried to act discreet but I noticed one of them winking at her.

I guess it pays to think ahead because, being a team player, I had an FBI swat team all dressed as baggage handlers that met them at the curb. I can still remember the look on their faces as our boys offered to take their luggage. The look on their faces clearly showed this wasn’t part of their plan. They now had to scramble to open the cases outside on the sidewalk instead of at their leisure inside. The boys in blue were on them in a heart beat. One of the guys had planned ahead and brought a pistol in his belt. From my vantage point I could see him draw the pistol and spin to face the Feds. I guess action is faster than reaction because I already had drawn my Kimber 1911 from its belt holster and cranked off a shot. There is a reason I carry the old style 1911 in .45 caliber, its one hell of a man stopper. That single shot spun him around and he hit the concrete with a thud. One dead Tango. In less then a minute it was all over as the team zipped up the other three perps and I slapped the cuffs on the lady in black.

It turns out that each golf case contained an automatic weapon, and they had planned to wreak havoc in the terminal followed by a rather big bang from their now deceased bomb making brothers.(may they rest in peace)The second team was going to scatter their hardware around in the confusion and cause a secondary incident when the shooting subsided.

Well, I guess everything turned out ok in the end, but if it weren’t for a few bomb makers that failed explosives 101, things could have turned out quite different.

Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com

P.I.B.

AIRLINE ANTICS

AIRLINE ANTICS

If you have read any of my older articles at www.pib.blogspot.com (also see my article on GYM RATS 05/2008) you know that I enjoy observing and analyzing human behavior, as well as categorizing different groups of people. I hate to over simplify things but it seems to me that people naturally fall into certain categories and sub categories. Much as a botanist would classify plants by species, I have developed my own nomenclature system for naming things. (and even my Italian Boy specially modified spell checker is worn out)

It’s also interesting that people behave differently when placed in different social situations. Few of these interactions are more revealing than when 300 or 400 people gather to board an airplane. The interaction between these perfect strangers is often amusing and revealing.

I have occasion to travel quite often and always take that opportunity to sit back and observe my fellow passengers, both at the gate and also aboard the plane. Below you will find the most common behavioral patterns and categories of people that I encounter:

PRE-BOARDING:

The Worrier: The worrier makes himself known while still in the waiting area, his sweat stained shirt and endless pacing is an easy give away. On board he is easily identified by the large beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, and the white knuckle grip on the chair arm. The worrier is wide eyed and constantly on the alert, with every sound or movement that the plane makes. They are often known to light incense to help insure a safe flight.

Snackeradactle : Ahhh. The snackers (for short). These guys must make sure to get plenty to eat before the flight.(Only God knows when they may eat again)Like a bear preparing for hibernation, they make sure to fill up, before the long flight. They will often be observed choking down a corn dog as they enter the gateway. They have also been known to pack a full course meal to consume at their seat, while the rest of us are enjoying our salted peanuts.


ON BOARD BEHAVIORS:


The Snailosaurus: Ok. The name says it all on this one. Ever wonder why it takes so long to get everyone one on the plane? There is a good chance that you have one or two snails boarding ahead of you. They have one speed..slow.

The Isle Hog: The Isle Hog-iferous, is a breed unto itself. They are markedly different from the snail, because the can get to their assigned seat rather quickly, but once they get there, they set up shop right in the isle. They will fiddle with their carry on, take on or off articles of clothing, chat with the neighbors, and even start reading their magazine while still blocking the isle. The fact that there are another 215 people waiting behind them and trying to get to their seats is of no concern to them. (maybe it’s a power thing)

The Numerically Impaired: These guys are easy to spot because they also slow the boarding process to a crawl. They can often be spotted looking at each seat number then back down at their boarding pass. Starting from row number one, they will pause at each row and refer back to their ticket, until they get to row 67.(often holding the boarding pass up, as if it is some type of compass) At that point they must do the mental math of determining the layout of seat #A, B, C, or D. (a real crowd pleaser)

The Creature of Comfort: The creature of comfort has packed carefully, not for the vacation or trip, but for the one hour flight to get there. They carefully unpack all the travel gear to insure they have the most comfortable flight. Out comes the mini reading light, travel pillow, beaded seat cover, special slippers, I Pod, space blanket, and one of those sleeping masks that goes over your eyes, so you can block out all external light sources. They are also know to immediately push there seat fully back and into the knee caps of the person behind them, but heck..at least they are comfortable.

The Travel Neanderthal: Just as the name suggests, these passenger have no concern for any traveler other then themselves. They are rude and impatient, coupled with being totally self centered. They often speak in one symbol dialogues that usually begin with the word “me”.

Button Pushers: No stewardess will rest, as long as there is at least one Button Pusher aboard the plane. They will often push the call button during the flight just to make sure it is still operational.

Sneezers, Coughers, Hackers: Ok everyone gets sick, but it seems like I always end up sitting in the infirmary section of the plane. I know I’m in trouble when the first thing I notice is a giant box of Kleenex tissues being opened as soon as I sit down. They can also be spotted as they set up a small scale hospital room complete with the hanging intravenous lines, heart monitors, and the blood pressure cuffs. They will often be caught calling the stewardess,,”Nurse”. Try to avoid sitting next to them.

Loud Mouths: Loud mouths are by no means only found aboard airplanes, they are frequently observed in bars and restaurants, however due to the noise from the planes engines they must “up their game” a dozen or so decibels to make absolutely sure that everyone can hear their jokes, complaints, and antics. (Also, they seem to be very fond of those miniature bottles of booze)

First Classers: Yes, the privileged few who sit in the very front of the plane in royal comfort. They enjoy a normal sized chair while the rest of us peasants get to sit 3 deep in half the space. The airlines normally add insult to injury by closing a small curtain so that those of us, not so fortunate travelers, don’t gaze upon the royal ones up front. And remember, by no means are the commoners and lesser ones to cross the curtain in order to use the privileged rest rooms.

Seat Hog Sapiens: Seat Hogs are not content with the seat they been assigned. They generally begin assuming ownership of more real estate from the moment they sit down. Their first move is often to flop an arm well over both arm rests, as if to stake their claim. From there they will often lean or lurch into the air space of their neighbor, often under the guise of sleeping.

Stewardzilla: Raise those tray tables and seat backs, turn off those cell phones, suck in that gut, and don’t interrupt me when I’m reading “O” magazine.. Oh yes…you know the ones, I’m referring to.

Arewe’s: Just like kids in the family car, you will often hear the unmistakable call of the Arewe’s….Are we there yet, Are we there yet ??

Pack Mules: Pack mules absolutely refuse to collect their luggage at the baggage claim area at the end of the flight. They are experts at circumventing the “one piece carry on rule”. They can many times be seen with the 6 piece matching designer rolling luggage ensembles that appear to be a single carry on, but take up all the room in 4 over head storage bins. (back pack, computer case, carpetbagger 3 cubic yard purse or briefcase)

Salmon: Just like the fish, these guys are known to always swim up stream. They insist on moving up the isle while everyone else is trying to move down the isle.(especially when everyone else is trying to get on or off the plane.)

There you have it. This collection of people and personality types are on every flight. Have some fun on your next flight and pick them out. If you are lucky you may even discover another species of flyer, or possibly, you are one of the types above.

Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com
P.I.B.

FLYING CAR

FLYING CAR

It’s long been the stuff of science fiction and futuristic dreams, but the flying car, is now a reality. In fact, even the Pentagon is working on their own version for military purposes (those guys could turn anything into a weapon). Their concept is to use the vehicle for scouting missions and then fly off into the sunset if the need occurs.

Aside from the military efforts, several private sector companies are also working feverishly on designing a working model flying car, for mass production. I’m having a little difficultly finding the need or potential market for one, except for the “WOW” ..look what I’ve got factor.

I’ve found over the years that most things that are designed to multi-task are normally not very good and any one function. So, in reality, we would probably end up with a lousy car, and an inefficient small plane. (oh, the insurance guys are going to love this one..The cavemen is set for life). Not only that, any teenager can drive, but flying ?.

<<>>
I fell asleep last night while trying to imagine myself 20 years into the future driving one of these gizmos. It was love at first sight, I wanted the 2 seater convertible model parked right next to the sign that said “GIVE FLIGHT TO YOU FANTASIES”. I had to be the first in my neighborhood to have one so I plunked down my 150 grand at the local dealer (Buy and Fly) for the stripped down version. (I did buy the optional low fuel alert system and doubled up on air bags) The salesmen takes me for a quick spin and flight and requires me to watch a 10 minute video on operations and flight safety, and then issues me a stamp on my license showing that I am now certified to operate a land/sky vehicle. Thanks to a loophole in the federal aviation laws,(lobbied for by makers of these dual use passenger cars) any vehicle under 150 horsepower, who’s main function is that of a terrestrial vehicle, does not need to comply with normal Federal Aviation laws.(not really, I just made that up..this is a dream sequence after all) He hands me a complementary pair of aviation sunglasses, a few bags of those airline peanuts, a pair of gold wings to pin on my shirt, and a small back pack parachute and sends me on my way. The next day I’m 15 minutes late and I need to get to work quickly. Traffic is a bear, and I’m laying on the horn, in bumper to bumper traffic. I take a quick glance down at the button on my dashboard that says “flight mode”. In frustration I push the button and my little sub compact car begins the transformation to “Super Cesna”. Before my very eyes, the wings fold out from under the chassis and a small propeller juts out the front of the bumper. The light turns green and I sound the aviation alarm to warn my fellow drivers that I am about to go airborne, and hit my directional signal (the “Up Arrow”) on my steering column. The little old lady in the big green Buick (yes, Buick is still around), shoots me the finger because my unfolding wing just put a three inch gash in the side of her car. I slowly gather speed as I taxi down the roadway, my wing tips plow down road signs, small trees, and a poor guy passing me on his motorcycle. But that doesn’t matter, nearly as much as the semi truck that seems to be in the way of my taxi runway. I pull back on the stick (or steering wheel as the case may be), with all my might, the nose of my craft, inches off the ground. At this point, I can read the fine print on the back of the 40 foot long trailer in front of me. My aerial proximity alarm is screaming in my ear. I put the pedal to the metal and just clear the back of the trailer as I make my assent. I exhale a sigh of relief as the vehicles below me now seem smaller. Now, this is what it’s all about, I’m flying, free as a bird, leaving all the traffic and earthly worries behind me. Free from the asphalt jungle below, I retract the tires, with the simple push of a button, and the transformation to a small plane is complete. A quick glance at my altimeter shows I’m cruising at 300 feet at 150 miles per hour. I kick in the cruise control and crank up my satellite radio. Suddenly, I’m stunned out of my blissful dream state, as my proximity alarm goes off again, this time with a deafening report. Bam, I’m thrown hard to the left as I feel an impact on my right side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of green, as I’m loosing altitude, and the ground rushes towards me. I see the little old lady in the green Buick flying by, her head just barely clearing the steering wheel and completely oblivious to the fact that she just clipped off my right wing. I guess, even old ladies and bad drivers can buy these things also.

Even though I don’t see the market for this “Ca-plane” (I just coined that term), in all fairness I should really give the concept a thorough cerebral workout. On the positive side, traffic on our roads would decrease, but it would add a whole new dimension to the term fender bender. (as flying accidents tend to be among the types you don’t walk away from). Also, the flying car concept could be good for commerce, as new businesses sprout up(much like the motels of yester year did when automobiles became common) to cater to the airborne driver. Fast food places could hang your bag of food on a high pole, that you have to snag, as you fly by and more billboards would be painted on the tops of tall buildings.

I guess there are still a few bugs to work out, but maybe these hybrid “Aero-mobiles” ( I should copyright this term also), will become common place in the future. I don’t know about you, but I planning a wider garage for my next new house. Hey, they laughed at the Wright Brothers, you know.

P.I.B.

AIRLINES

AIRLINES

Let’s face it, most Americans today need to fly commercially. (or you can get a free government ride on a government plane, but it will cost you 4 years of your life) Perhaps the purpose of your trip is business related, personal, vacation, a family visit, or emergency. I guess the point I’m trying to make is, the airlines, much like the interstate highway system, represent a vital mode of transportation in the United States. If you need to get somewhere distant, and don’t have the luxury to take a leisurely car trip, you better book a flight.

With that being said, I don’t think anyone would argue the point that the commercial aviation system in our country is in desperate need of a “top to bottom overhaul”. (politically correct wording meaning: enema) The few remaining carriers are on the verge of consolidating or going out of business. Most have cut back on service, maintenance, flight routes and staff. (not to mention exacting payroll considerations on their employees) The average age of the aircraft in service is getting older, as the airlines hesitate to renew their fleets in a period of diminishing returns. (the plane I got on the other day said “new.. now radar equipped”) High fuel prices and maintenance costs, have ravaged their profits.

The level of quality and service has been reduced considerably, with many flights canceled and others not adhering to schedules. Flight delays and cancellation are now the norm and not the exception. Even getting a direct non-stop flight is getting harder to book. Travel agents have been all but been forced out of the equation, and internet ticket purchases are the norm. Ticket prices have soared and passengers are faced with increasing instances of overbooked flights and very uncomfortable seating. It’s a common practice for airlines to overbook each flight, knowing that a few passengers won’t show, but don’t expect a refund, even if they resell your seat. The airlines have also resorted to nickel and dime-ing their passengers with pesky additional fees, including, charging extra for stowed luggage, additional fees for “select” seating, and even charging extra for soda and water.

I find myself gritting my teeth before a flight, as we are herded onto the plane, and then required to sit in an uncomfortable chair, barely large enough for a child. (and then fight with your neighbor to see who gets the arm rest) The loading and unloading process alone seems to add almost an hour to the torture, aggravated by the passengers that just can’t seem to put their luggage in the rack or find their assigned seat. ( Preferring instead to just block the isle, so that no one else can get to their seat). I for one, would be happy to walk outside on the tarmac, and climb or descend from a rope ladder at the rear entrance of the plane to help things move a little faster. Poor Italian Boy airlines, would require any passenger not boarded and in his seat with 6 minutes to be escorted off the plane.

When was the last time you were on a flight with an empty seat? I’ve gotten close few times, but just as I was about to enjoy the extra two and a half square foot of space, the cabin door opened again and a few vastly overweight stragglers made their way right to the empty seat beside me. ( As I silently prayed: not here, not hear, pick another seat, please) So much for a little breathing room.

Listen, I can’t totally blame the airlines, they are in a tuff business and most of them are struggling for their lives. Another big merger is underway as I write this. The only way they can make any money is with jammed packed planes and fewer unprofitable routes. Ticket prices are on the rise, and discount airlines are on the decline. They have also mastered the art of pricing tickets and made it a science. Try to buy a ticket a day or two in advance and you will likely pay double or triple. Want to upgrade to first class after you have already bought a ticket, be prepared to re-finance the house. (for the privilege of sitting in front of that little closed curtain, and getting off the plane 4 minutes faster than the peasants in coach). Some of the long range overseas routes are a little more profitable and they offer a few extra amenities on these flights.

As far as I’m concerned the airlines have taken a giant leap backward. Ten years ago, they all held to a higher standard. Today, everything from the food and snacks to the seating and attitude of the flight attendants has gone down hill. ( And what happened to the nice cloth towels that were placed on every headrest) What used to be a pleasurable experience has now become, at best, an necessary evil. Add in the extra inconvenience placed on passengers at the airport with the extra wait, crowds, lines, and the security check in, and you are bound to be off with a bad start for the trip.

Listen, until the average Joe can afford his own plane, I guess we will just have to grin and bare it. (I don’t know about you, but I’m a little short on cash right now, so my brand new 747 jet will be on hold). Besides who says the jet plane will be the preferred mode of transportation 50 years in the future anyway ? ( If we all thought like that, everyone would still be traveling by stagecoach, train or greyhound bus) Times change, I’m thinking we need to take a giant technological leap forward or backward for that matter. Maybe we are all just in too much of a rush. If I had my say, we would bring back the blimps, the dirigible, a modern version of the old fashioned airship. (less the ultra-flammable helium) Note: these are actually under consideration now… Sure, we wouldn’t be able to make the cross country trip in five hours, but we would probably save a ton of fuel and there would be a heck of a lot more room. (more like a cruise ship in comfort) I think I would enjoy leaving Tampa around 3pm, having a nice dinner mid flight, (without having to squeeze a tray on a small fold out table in a seat back) then see a show, and afterwards (in my rented tux) and then retire to my stateroom. The next morning wake up refreshed, have a little breakfast and be at my destination. Maybe, I’d be the recipient of a little customer service to boot. The extra bonus would be flying at a low enough altitude to catch a little scenery and some fresh air. This way the transportation becomes an enjoyable part of the trip, not a necessary evil.

I think the airlines better make some drastic changes, and make them soon. Unhappy customers, will only tolerate any poorly run business until a suitable alternative is available. In the mean time, Americans love to travel, and we are a captured audience for the air travel.

Sorry, gotta run…they just called my flight.

P.I.B.