The street cop’s superstition sweepstakes

Seth Thompson

Published: Tuesday, December 30th, 2008

“Step on a crack, break your mother’s back!” goes the old saying. Even in our modern digitally-drenched, computer-controlled, scientific society, most average people are a little superstitious.  Whether it’s saying “Bless you!” when someone sneezes, throwing a pinch of salt over your shoulder after spilling some, or feeling uneasy about whistling past a graveyard, lots of otherwise rational people develop little tricks and habits to ward off bad luck and random evils.  Like most cops, I’m more than a little superstitious. The job makes you this way.  I now know that it’s considered a mortal curse to tell the on-coming shift of night dogs anything to the effect of, “It’s really quiet out there,” or, “Ah, nothing’s gonna happen tonight.” You’re sure to be met with a chorus of groans and rough speculation about your state of mental health. Not to mention a few choice comments about your family tree.   Most experienced cops are absolutely sure in their darkest heart of hearts that all really important calls that involve staying on duty a bunch of extra hours take place within a few minutes of the end of their shift. The probability of getting the “money call” increases if you need to use the bathroom, if you are hungry, if your patrol car is low on gas, or if you forgot some crucial piece of equipment on the kitchen table or in the lockbox at the jail. (Hey, has anybody seen my gun? Come on now, this isn’t funny anymore!) If you really want to double down on the superstition sweepstakes, extra points are added for the last shift before a weekend, the last shift before a vacation and very possibly, the last shift before retirement, as fabled in numerous Hollywood cop-buddy movies:  “Wow, tough break for Murtaugh. He had 30 years in already. Too bad he got stuck with the suicidal burnout from Narco, huh?”  Years ago, at another department, I was considered to be the bringer of bad luck. Being young and cocky, I would talk about how nothing was happening and how I wanted some good-old fashioned, red-blooded American action! Like any young rookie I longed for car chases, bar fights, family feuds and all the other fun-loving festivities found on weekend nights in Anytown, USA. I would often taunt the older (and little did I know at the time) wiser cops by telling them that there were  15 minutes left in our shift, and not to worry, something good could still happen. Often, I’d hardly closed my trap before a call crackled over the radio, and we were off to deal with something that would keep us busy for the next several hours.  Whether it was true or just a result of my relentlessly running my mouth, the other cops began to believe that it could be quiet for days, but when I showed up to work, the wheels would fall off their calm situation in short order. I would say that I don’t mean that the wheels literally fell off anything, except a wheel actually did fall off a patrol car I was in once. Did I already mention the other cops thought I was the bringer of bad luck?  Slowly, the relentless grind of street life began to force me to change my attitude about taunting the fickle finger of fate. Certain incidents that happened to me could have been what we in law enforcement call “clues.”  One of these eye-openers happened on a frosty fall night. I had just installed myself into the passenger seat of a patrol car and got comfortable as we pulled out of the parking lot. The other officer told me that it had been a very slow shift so far. I said that was about to change now that I was there. Suddenly, every street and house light we could see blinked out, plunging us into darkness. My fellow law dog said, “Now you did it.”  Technically, that wasn’t true. A drunk driver who smashed into several mailboxes, a motel sign and finally a power pole was responsible for the power outage that shut off the power to half the town. I knew what the other cop meant, though. In the night-shift world, everything is connected. There are no coincidences.  Today, 10 years or so later, I try not to tempt fate any more than I have to. My gas tank is full, my bodily functions are promptly taken care of and I try to make sure I have all the equipment I need to get through a shift.  I’m careful of what I say, too. When someone tells me it’s been a quiet night or a really slow shift, my answer is always the same—“So far.”