Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Off the Street

Matt in CreekAhhh, the slog - that inglorious task that some stories demand: body dumps, unplanned landings and everyone's favorite - the long-distance pot pull. Such was the case yesterday when a trio of co-workers took to the woods for a deputy-led dash through the brambles of Davidson County. I was recovering from my morning show steak shoot at Lucky 32 when the call came in: seems Grice and the boys found a sizable operation south of Denton. Any news crews wanna hike out to the site? I sank lower in my chair of course, but the trip that ensued reminded me of the good ole days; when chasing deputies with machetes was a buzz to be discovered...

Sheriff Grice packin' heatSee, I cut my teeth on eradications. It was dawn of COPS and ride-alongs were all the rage. I was but a mullet in training; my mentors crusty one-man bands who picked the police blotter clean. They taught me how to forge good ole boy friendships with the high and tights. Soon my bag-phone rang with invitations to all kinds of Crown Vic conventions... late night drive-bys, prostitution stings, speed trap skeet shoots. All I had to do was get their good side. That's tough of course when you feel like your spleen is gonna explode if you have to forge one more briar patch. Call it the War on Drugs if you must, but after about a half mile of ass and elbows, you start to realize who the foot soldier is.

Nathan ParsonsThat's why we sent Kid Nathan. Fresh-faced and quip-lipped, he was just the youngster to trudge through the muck and bring back evidence of the demon weed. Actually, he was one of three (3!) El Ocho operatives on scene, but when you're sending a fella into a tick infested thicket with a hard deadline andthe possibility of being shot by a heavily jonesing stoner, you kinda have to pump him up. Me, I usually start with an anecdote or two about bustin' up moonshine stills back in the day, then move into meth lab territory. By the time I bring up the black helicopters and hard target take-downs, he's so ready to check off his bucket list, he'll carry everybody's tripod.

For a mile or two...

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