I doubt that works out well for him

Posted on: February 13, 2017 at 08:10:27 CT

When push comes to shove.

When I was in college I worked as an assistant manager in the summer at a fast food joint as an assistant manager. One Saturday night, two guys get drunk and come in the drive through during the after-the bars-close rush. Place is packed. They're coming backwards through the drive through in a panel van, cussing out the employee working the sqwawk box at the window. I took over and told the guy that he had to turn the vehicle around and stop cursing or I wouldn't serve him. He proceeds to call me every name you can think of.

This was a rough and tumble relatively poor blue collar area that thankfully also had good and responsive police enforcement.

Guy refuses to leave, cusses me out some more and continues on in the drive through until he gets to the window, scraping one of the stanchions along the way that supported a portico. I hadn't taken his order.

I call 911 and fill them in on the details. Within two minutes two police cars pull up. By this time, the guy is at the window, which I've locked. He's yelling obscenities at me. I just shake my head no. Two officers walk to each side of the van, and nicely ask the driver to pull out of the drive through. They refuse, and curse the officers. The officer opens the door on the passenger side right in front of me (remember they came through backwards), with the other cop at the driver's side.

To this point, if they had just obeyed the officers, everything would have been okay. But no, they can't do that. The passenger decides it's time to act. He slams the door into the officer, jumps out, punches him in the face and gets back in. His buddy presses on the accelerator and they lay rubber, the tires smoking on the asphalt while the driver's side cop is still holding on to the door handle. They come out of the drive through with the cop holding for dear life. The driver cuts the wheels and the drivers side officer goes flying. The backup police cruiser has blocked the exit. The driver realizes this too late and smashes into that car. He then puts it into drive to go out the entry drive. The passenger side officer has his gun out, chasing after the vehicle on foot. The backup car quickly intersects the van, blocking the entrance before they can escape. The van hits them again.

Now three cops are out, running toward guns drawn. This is happening twenty feet away in front of my store. I've got floor to ceiling windows on three sides of the restaurant. The van changes direction again, to drive across the parking lot.

Next thing you know, three policemen are shooting at the wheels of the van to pop the tires. Sparks fly as multiple rounds bounce off the pavement. I'm wondering if one of the stray rounds is going to come through the windows. Two tires are flattened, the tires shredded. This van isn't going anywhere. The driver realizes the jig is up so he raised his hands in the air, an officer pointing his revolver at him. The other guy has jumped out to escape. He heads toward a six foot chain link fence and starts to climb.

Halfway up the cops get to him, blackjacks in hand. He kick at the two officers until they work him over with the blackjacks and he drops like a dead fly that has touched a bug zapper. They quickly cuff him and take him to the squad car, his head bleeding from a gash to the forehead. I go outside the front door just as they're putting him in the back. He's drunk as a stunk, feeling no pain, still cursing at the officers as he screamed in a slurred voice, "F*ck you, f*ck you all. False arrest. You have no f*cking right to do this." The officer shut the door on him, and all of my customers cheered.

Just another hot Saturday night in Granite City during the seventies.

Edited by JimD at 08:22:18 on 02/13/17