Life of Brian

Year 2000

Twenty-five years ago.  A quarter of a century.  A fourth of a dollar.  How ever you want to look at it, it's a fairly good chunk of time.  In less than thirty days, the year 2000 will have been exactly twenty-five years ago.  I was born in seventy-five.  At 25 years of age, these things were checked off my list.  Marriage, full time job w/ benefits, a rented roof over my head and good health.  Not only for me but for everyone in my family around me.  My day job still consisted of working on the armored trucks.  My route covered some of Ventura, Santa Paula, and Fillmore.  Sarah worked at the bank, and we still lived in our apartment in Ojai. 

In January, Alaskan Airlines flight 261 crashed off of the coast of Hueneme.  I think it went down into the ocean between the islands and the coastline.  Closer to the islands if I recall.  I belonged to Search and Rescue at the time and got to be involved in the search for debris that could have included human remains.  My day job hours were from 7 a.m. to around 3:30 p.m.  I volunteered to go out with search crews after I got off of work.  Our team all gathered at the Sheriff's academy grounds where we were briefed on what our job would be and what to do should we spot any debris that was about to wash up on shore or had already done so.  This was an exciting call out because we actually got to drive a black and white Sheriff's vehicle.  Light bar, search lights and all with no placards indicating it was an off-duty unit!  The vehicle we were given was a ford bronco 4x4.  As the briefing wrapped up, I remember the last thing the Seargent told us before heading out to our sectors was DO NOT GET STUCK.  I was not a newbie when it came to off roading.  My cousin Mike had taught me quite a bit and I had a four-wheel drive truck myself in which I had done plenty of off-road driving in.  I had even successfully completed the Miller Jeep trail in my truck.  That is not an easy off-road trail if you've never been on it.  I had also been out to Pismo Dunes a number of times and had a fair amount of experience driving in sand.  Off we went, me and one other SAR member.  His name was Andy.  Andy took the first shift as driver.  We were to patrol the area of Mugu rock.  This included a couple of the parking areas for day use of the beach.  The first thing we noticed were the looks we'd get.  The public had no idea we weren't deputies, nor did they know we had zero authority to get them into any immediate trouble.  Individuals in cars would quickly shuffle around when they saw us.  People standing outside would quickly lower whatever was in their hands down out of sight behind their vehicles.  We got a good laugh at it, and it was absolutely good to be the ones inside that vehicle.  While we were indeed scouring the water line for debris, we also had a little fun with our newly gained power.    We'd park just out of hearing distance facing most of the parked cars and turn our headlights off and just sit there.  We knew that brains were spinning inside all of those civilian cars.  They didn't know that we were simply civilians as well just hanging out at the beach.  This was absolutely one of the best call outs that I would be a part of.  Our shift was from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m.  At the six-hour mark, I took over as driver. Seeing as how I had some experience driving in sand, I decided we needed to drive out on the beach to the north of Mugu rock and get a closer look at the waterline.  We were told it was ok for us to do so, so why not.  I pulled out into the sand and drove towards the ocean.  Everything was going just peachy until I stopped, parked horizontally with the water, and began searching the water with our spotlight.  The waves were of medium size, and it looked as though the tide was coming in.  We searched the water for about fifteen minutes and saw nothing but the waves getting ever closer.  I had stopped about five feet from where the dry sand turned into wet sand from the waves lapping up on shore.  When I put the car back in drive and pushed the gas pedal, we immediately began to sink the rear tires into the sand.  Uh oh!  I had it locked in four-wheel drive and also had let a little bit of air out of the tires.   If we were indeed stuck, the only option left was to air down the tires substantially and start praying!  Adding to the stress was the fact that the tide was coming in.  The sound of the waves crashing seemed to be getting closer and closer!  Both of us jumped out and began airing down the tires even more.  We did not have a gauge mind you, so we were guessing.  We kept the searchlight pointed at the water and boy that water was getting really close!  A civilian from the parking lot walked down and asked if we were alright.  Well, of course we had to lie and tell him in very confident voices that we were indeed ok.  We thanked him and he walked back up to his car.  With all four tires deflated to where we could visibly see them bulging, I jumped back in the driver's seat and put it in drive.  Slowly we pulled out of the ruts we had half dug out with our hands and I immediately turned right towards the water.  I knew the wet sand would be harder packed and we could get momentum to get back over the small sand berm we'd become enslaved to just minutes prior.  It worked!  Thank the lord.  All I could hear was the Sergeant's last words and the humility if we would have had to have a tow truck come get us, or worse yet a bystander.  Even worse, I believe within 30 minutes our Sheriff's vehicle would have been overrun by the waves!  We made it back to the paved parking lot, let out a sigh of relief, and began driving to the nearest gas station to air our tires back up.  Our night concluded without any sightings.  By five a.m. I was absolutely exhausted.  Knowing that I had to drive straight to work for another eight-hour shift was not encouraging in the least.  The plane crash was a terrible tragedy to start off the year.  Eighty-three passengers and five crew members lost their lives as the plane supposedly turned upside down and plummeted into the Pacific Ocean.

That day at work, after being up all night, was absolutely horrible.  I asked my partner Dave if I could hop the morning half so that I could just drive the rest of the day.  He kindly obliged.  While pulling up to K-Mart in the afternoon, I needed to drop the kids off at the pool. I told Dave I could pick up the customer after I used the facilities.  I walked in, totally brain farted on going to the bathroom first, and picked up their money.  After picking up the money, I then made the bad decision to use the bathroom.  This was not an employee only bathroom, this was the bathroom open to the public.  I took my gun belt off, took my gun out of its holster and set it on the toilet paper dispenser and took care of doody.  I felt I'd better have my gun out seeing as how I was in a public bathroom with a fair amount of cash in my bag.  All of these decisions were bad ones.  I made it back to the truck without incident and continued driving for the remainder of the route.  Within thirty minutes of picking up the K-Mart, our assistant manager Dennis began contacting us on our two-way radio.  The first transmission he told us we forgot something back at the K-Mart.  We checked the deposit I had carried out and it all seemed legit.  We ignored him.  Another five minutes went by, and he was back on the radio.  Now he was telling us we had forgotten some "Keys", and that we needed to go back there to pick them up.  Dave checked our keys, and we had them all.  What the heck was Dennis talking about we thought!  We told him we had all of our keys; we were absolutely certain.  The last stop of the day came about at Black Angus in Ventura.  I had to go pee this time so after Dave picked up the stop, I got out and used the bathroom.  As I stood at the urinal, my right arm brushed up against my holster.  It felt different!  I looked down at my holster to find it was void of a firearm!  UH OH!  I quickly walked back to the truck.  My gun was not on the floor of the truck, it had not fallen out.  Things started adding up.  Dennis on the radio, our supposed forgotten keys, me remembering I had set my gun on the toilet paper dispenser!  I told Dave I must have left my gun at K-Mart!  He said something like, "Oh Shit".  We couldn't go back to K-Mart now.  We had to return to the office to offload our truck.  This is where Dennis told me in person that Santa Paula P.D. was very kindly in possession of my Colt .45 and that as soon as I was done at Armored, I could go pick it up.  Holy Crap Sauce!  How stupid could I be.  I am indeed a scatter brained individual sometimes, but this was bad.  That drive back out to Santa Paula P.D. probably took ten years off of my life.  What were they gonna say?  What was I gonna say?  Was I going to get in trouble?  Maybe I wouldn't even get my gun back!  Walking into the police station, in my uniform, I politely and sheepishly explained that I was there to retrieve my weapon.  Ugg, it was embarrassing to the ten millionth degree.  The officer behind the desk went to the back room and came back out with a paper bag.  He set it on the counter and sure enough, inside was my colt .45.  The magazine had been removed and the bullets removed from the magazine.  He was actually pretty cool about it.  He didn't give me any lectures, he simply said:  "I bet you won't do that again".  I wanted to crawl under the cement floor.  I said no sir and asked if it was alright to put my gun back in my holster.  I did not reload it.  I was in no trouble, even my work was very lenient and did not hand out any punishment.  Turns out that the custodian at K-Mart was cleaning the bathroom and found my loaded gun.  He took it to management who put two and two together and called our home office.  When no one returned to pick it up, they called Santa Paula P.D.  The following service day at K-Mart I went in again to pick up their deposits.  The managers were grilling me about who had left their gun.  I chose to deflect the despicable error onto another employee who had just quit.  There was a picture roster of all our employees in their money cage.  I told them I couldn't name names about who left the gun and then proceeded to cross out the picture of the employee who had quit.  There was no way I was going to tell them it was me. This is by far one of the biggest disappointments in my life.  Not because I made the mistake.  Because the way I carried my gun, with a round in the chamber, the hammer back and only the safety on.  If a little kid had found it and began playing with it the situation could have become a nightmare.  This incident solidified my choice of quitting the Sheriff's academy.  Everyone makes mistakes, and I'm not the only one probably to have ever left my gun behind.  Heck, some employees actually fired their weapons off in public by accident!  I'm ok with it now, but it ruined my confidence levels for decades.  To this day, Dave and I still chuckle quite a bit about this.

Cost of living in 2000 was as follows.  Homes were in the price range of $211,000.00 in Ca.  In the nation the average hovered around $119.000.00.  Gasoline in the U.S. averaged $1.56 per gallon.  A loaf of bread cost you on average $1.50.  Pound of bacon cost $3.03.  The Federal minimum wage was $5.15 per hour.  With today's current prices, and eight-hour day in the year 2000 wouldn't even buy you a half a tank of gas!  Residential rental prices in the U.S. averaged $602.00 per month.

Some of the top movies in 2000 were Gladiator, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Castaway, and Mission Impossible 2.  Top songs in the charts were "Breathe" by Faith Hill.  "Smooth" by Santana featuring Rob Thomas, "Say My Name" Destiny's Child, and "Music" by Madonna.

The year 2000 would be me and Sarah's last year of few responsibilities.  Next year we'd be responsible for a tiny human.  Somewhere in this time I would go eat dinner at Sarah's parents' house.  I can't remember why Sarah wasn't there, but it would just be Linda and I having dinner.  Linda was a good cook, and we had many delicious meals.  One particular meal was a sort of soup with veggies etc. I think there may have been pasta in it as well.  While sitting at the dinner table eating this meal, I began to notice large black flecks of something that I thought might have been big flakes of pepper.  However, I'd never seen pepper with legs!  I would point it out to Linda, and she'd say, " I think it's just pepper".  Then I'd say, "But it appears to have legs".  Well, we finally got a little magnifying glass out to look at these black flakes.  This wasn't until the second night of eating the meal mind you.  Sure enough, under the magnification, the flakes did in fact have little legs!  They were little beetles.  The search began for the source of the added nutrients in our meal.  We cancelled out the pasta and it came down to some parsley flakes she had decided to add to the soup at the last minute!  At the bottom of the jar of parsley were ten to twelve of the little critters!  They were deader than a doornail!  This was a very comical event, and it did not deter us from eating the soup.  We both get a good laugh when we think back to the mystery of the black flakes.

"I've never been less excited in all my life for an election.  They're all a bunch of nincompoops."

-Everette Boone, 80, of Glendale, where State Sen. Adam Schiff unseated incumbent Rep. James E. Rogan in the 27 Congressional District race.