They’re dispatching domestics like they’re on sale. Saturday is not the night of love around here between midnight and 4 a.m.:
• Man screaming behind a grocery store. Witness said he’s throwing things. He was mad at his girlfriend and screaming at her on his cell phone.
• Woman, described as blond, large chest, skinny body, babbling incoherently and saying something about suicide at a gas station near 285 and 400, later changed to an intersection a couple of miles north — said she was near a crack house. Never found her.
• Missing person. Later found to have been on a fling with a new “friend” who the parents would surely not approve of. When you’re 25 years old, don’t sneak around. Your parents will accept it better than thinking you’re missing.
• Caught a few minutes of Chris Isaak at Chastain before monitoring the traffic coming from the show.
• Snake on the front porch, later found to be a copperhead. Officer bagged it in a pillow case. Better he than me. I would have started shooting at it a couple of miles away as I was driving up.
• Man pulling the “car broken down and my kid needs to get to the hospital” routine. The cops can’t find any victims so his information is taken and sent on his way. He’s been around here before. He drives a Ford Expedition.
• Domestic call. Hotel. The caller wants the male removed from the hotel room. Love gone awry? Someone ran out of meth?
• Guy calls and says people are chasing him around with a defibrillator, shocking him. He has a gun and has accidentally shot the floor.
• Cars are driving down the road with no lights — all night long. Bars should post a sign reminding you to turn on your lights in the parking lot as you leave. Apparently at some point, the darkness around your car as you drive isn’t a tip that your lights aren’t on.
• Wandering woman, drunk, walks across the road to the police station and asks me if the hotel across the street is the Hampton Inn. I confirm that it is. She says thanks and then walks off in a totally different direction.
• A Waffle House drunk thinks he’s funny. As I’m on the phone in my car in the parking lot, he walks up and pulls his cell phone, pretending to talk on it while he walks in a circle around my car, all the while pointing at me so that his audience will know that his act is a parody of my phone call. He stumbles, drops the phone, breaking it. Now I’m laughing — not loud and obvious-like, but it was a nice moment of irony.
• I’m tired. I want to go home. The bars are emptying into the parking lots and people are going home or wherever. You know some are happy and some are mad — depending on how the night went.
• It’s a full moon and the domestic calls start cranking up again.
• The drunk lady re-appears and waves at me, points to the Hampton Inn, give me a thumbs-up and then walks into the Holiday Inn next door.
It’s been fun, folks, thanks for playing tonight.