"Liz, take the wheel of the cruiser and cut him off in the alley way! I'm going to pursue on foot."
"Not a problem Officer Brian!"
When I found out I would be riding shotgun with the Miami University Police Department-a friend told me about a ride along program they run-my imagination began to spin wildly. Scenes from Cops raced through my mind. Visions of car chases, drug busts, domestic disputes and gang violence danced in my head. I was ecstatic.
Since I was a little girl, I always dreamed of riding with the police. I was obsessed with anything law enforcement-related-police, detectives, even prison guards. I once watched seven straight hours of Dog the Bounty Hunter until my mother had to rip the TV's plug out of the wall and send me to bed. She prayed it was a phase. But, at age 20, my passion still hasn't faltered.
All day Saturday I bragged to anyone who'd listen, gloating about becoming a part of the force for the night. I could almost hear my mom's eyes roll when I called her with the news. In the middle of explaining my prediction for the night-which included single-handedly taking down a drug dealer-she cut me off.
"Elizabeth, do not have unrealistic expectations about this. Please remember that you are in Oxford, not the Bronx," she said.
But I couldn't even hear her. I was too busy imagining what souvenir I would bring home from my adventure. I've always wanted a taser, but I suppose I would settle for a nightstick.
The officer arrived at my doorstep just as the clock struck 9 p.m. I felt like Cinderella. But in my version, I opted for a cruiser rather than a carriage, and my Prince Charming carried an M-4 assault rifle.
As I made my way to the passenger door I was shaking with anticipation. I had no idea what was in store, but I was prepared for anything. Secretly, I wore a sheriff's badge I had made out of construction paper and tin foil the night before. I felt like the real deal. I closed the door as Officer Brian turned the key in the ignition. We pulled away from my house, cruising into the darkness to begin our night of tag team crime fighting. I knew that after tonight my life would be changed.
Three hours later I returned with my world rocked. Rocked, because nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.
I couldn't believe it. There were no drug busts. There was no drunken disorderliness. I didn't get to frisk anyone. Nothing. Not even a speeding ticket. For the love of God, he never even turned on the cruiser's siren! I was at the very least expecting a doughnut break. But after 180 minutes, I returned home with nothing more than an empty stomach and a broken heart.
I tried to explain my heartbreak to my housemates, but they refused to sympathize. First mocking my tears, they argued that I should feel privileged. They said it's not everyday a 20-year-old college student gets to sit in a police cruiser and not be plagued with thoughts of jail time and court fees. This is true, but I couldn't see past my own agony. If you don't get to arrest anyone, what's the point?
I don't blame Officer Brian. In fact, in an attempt to please me, he actively went searching for crime. We stopped random first-years along Spring Street and sniffed them for traces of alcohol. We scanned the tree lines of Western Woods because that's typically where "the dope-smokers go to light up." No such luck. We even sat in a hidden drive for 45 minutes praying someone would turn right on red. Cars came, but it never happened. He told me stories of chases and drunk kids he's hauled off to jail, but that wasn't good enough. I was jonesing for the real thing, and I never got my fix.
I suppose it's my own fault. I let my absurd imagination get the better of me and failed to see the reality of the situation. The truth is Miami University really is a bubble. A bubble even the MUPD can't seem to
escape. And while some praise its security, the police and I find it very boring. I anticipated Training Day and got Teletubbies; the Miami bubble burst my bubble.
Despite feeling like my soul had shattered to pieces, I don't entirely regret the experience. For one night I had the opportunity to view life from a vantage point so few ever experience-however dull it may have been. And while my dream of taking the wheel in a high speed chase will be forced to stay just that, a dream, it was worth it.
I do, however, remain quite upset that on top of my action-less night, I was forced to return home devoid of any souvenir. A nightstick would have made an excellent consolation prize.
