Oh man, I have so many. I'm a recovering alcoholic, and thus I've regrettably been in more than my fair share of trouble before sobering up over 2.5yr ago. Were it not for some incredibly cool officers, though, my record would be so much worse and I wouldn't be a year away from graduating law school as a dried-out 35yo idiot. Here's to Brunswick, GA's Officer S.
At some point during my night, I'd blacked out as usual. I'll get to the events that preceded my run-in with the police, but we'll start with my "coming to." I regained consciousness/awareness and found myself: shirtless and covered in blood, I'd lost my iPod and bank card, and was stumbling around in a McDonald's parking lot around 3a.m. when the police pulled up. IIRC it was 2 cruisers, one with a stumpy and grumpy female officer, the other with a bigger guy named officer S.
They questioned me as to how I got there, etc. I couldn't remember a damn thing. I knew I'd been drinking, but that was it. I was slurring my speech, I couldn't explain the blood or no shirt. I couldn't even remember the name or address of the extended-stay hotel I lived in (ironically, I'd moved to Brunswick for an outpatient rehab after getting out of the Coast Guard; lasted like 2 weeks). I could tell the woman officer was... not a big fan of me or my drunken attempts to make jokes. S, however, was much more amenable to my bad humor (and I suspect respected my veteran status and perhaps felt sorry for me).
Eventually, as the situation deteriorated a bit, officer S convinced the woman and another responding officer that had showed up at some point that he could find out where I lived by... using my phone to call someone. At this time, I'd never met my now brother-in-law. I'd only talked to him on the phone. I'm not sure why that's who was called, but my now-close-friend received a call at 3:30a.m. From a cop. He thought it was a prank call. He essentially said "give me this idiot's address, or I'm going to have to charge his ass and take him to jail." How my BiL got my address escapes me, but he found it and relayed the info...
Here's where the missing bank card comes in. No $ for a cab. Again, I could sense that the angry woman wanted to haul my drunken, bloody ass into the drunk tank with extreme prejudice. But, NOPE. Motherfucking Officer S drove me to my hotel. He then helped me up to my 2nd floor dungeon, got me inside, made me promise to stay in the rest of the night/morning, and that was it. I would have been in some shit had he or they decided to arrest me. Public intoxication, disorderly conduct, etc.
Turns out, I was drinking with the obese bartender's gay brother and playing golden tee and a group of Georgia white trash were making some... remarks. Apparently, I thought I'd be the violent defender of tolerance and inclusivity and decided to play fisticuffs with a group of hicks. I supposedly did ok for a guy who was outnumbered and outsized, but in the end I took the Loss. I wandered off drunk and covered in at least 3 people's blood (including my own) and wound up in that parking lot. Never did find out how I lost the bank card and iPod. That remains a mystery. I was, however, quite the "big hero" at the bar for awhile.
Honestly, I'd have arrested me. Barely coherent, bloody, criminal record (all drunken misdemeanors, including an assault for a bar fight that was diverted)... I'd never have put in the patience, time, and effort to get me home safe. I'd like to say that's when I sobered up, but I just got worse. Took another 3yr, 4 rehabs, 2 arrests and 4 or 5 close calls, and a handful of hospitalizations for withdrawal/detox before I finally achieved any lasting sobriety. But I do believe that, had Officer S not been so lenient, my life would have just gotten even shittier.
So, Officer S, thank you. I'd like to think you were influential in some way to my currently respectable status and sobriety. You're a good guy and a patient and fair dude. Oh, and brother-in-law, thank you for finding that address!