Author's Note: Thanks to AllTrekkedUp for inspiring me to break out of my MacGyver world to play with the CHP officers for a bit!
A CHP Thanksgiving
Sergeant Joe Getraer stepped up to the podium in the briefing room a little before eight o'clock Thanksgiving morning. Most of his charges were already in their seats, preparing to take notes. The exception, a group of five officers in the back corner engaging in a lively conversation led by none other than Frank Poncherello.
"I'm just sayin' it's not fair!" Ponch complained loudly.
"But you were there when we took the vote," Bonnie pointed out. "You raised your hand."
"I did?" Ponch asked, truly surprised. "Well, you must have tricked me. I would never agree to such a thing!"
"C'mon Ponch, we all agreed it made sense for us single guys to cover for those with families on Thanksgiving and they'll do the same for us on New Year's," Baricza explained.
"Yeah," Grossie added. "Besides, we get paid double time for working on a holiday."
Ponch's frown remained steadfastly in place.
"Look at it this way," Jon instructed. "Would you rather be pushing bread up a turkey's butt today or kissing a pretty lady when the New Year rolls around?"
Ponch's face broke into a wide smile, his teeth stunningly white against his dark skin. "Now you're talkin' my language, partner!"
As the clock struck eight, Sergeant Getraer cleared his throat. Loudly. "Excuse me, Frank. Do you mind if I interrupt your little meeting so we can get through today's briefing?"
"Huh? Oh, no Sarge. No problem. Go right ahead," Ponch replied, a goofy smile still on his face.
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Jon stood next to his motorcycle, strapping on his helmet and watching Ponch slip something into his saddlebag.
"What's that?" Jon asked.
Ponch jerked upward and turned toward his partner, flashing a winning smile.
"What's what?" he feigned ignorance.
"What did you just put in your saddlebag?" Jon repeated, slightly slower as if speaking to a child which sometimes he thought he was when it came to his partner.
"Oh that!" Ponch forced a laugh. "It's just a transistor radio."
"And why do you need a transistor radio?" Jon asked, still feeling as if he were speaking to an eight-year-old.
Time to come clean.
"I got twenty bucks riding on the Detroit game. I figured I could listen when we stop for lunch."
Jon rolled his eyes as he mounted his motor and sped out of the CHP Central parking lot to begin his shift leaving his partner in the dust.
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Four hours and not even a traffic citation later, Jon and Ponch were seated at a picnic table next to their favorite taco stand when Grossman pulled up and parked his bike next to theirs.
"Hey Grossie! Grab a taco and have a seat," Jon invited.
Ponch sent his partner a sideways glance.
"I'm telling you, it's just not right! We shouldn't be eating tacos when everyone else is chowing down on turkey, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, pumpkin pie…oh man, I'm makin' myself hungry just thinking about it," Ponch groused.
Grossie, with two tacos in hand, sat next to Jon.
"I don't know about you guys, but my beat's been really quiet today. Guess everyone's gone over the river and through the woods to Grandma's house."
"Let's hope it stays that way," Ponch said. "I'd like to get home on time for once."
Jon quirked an eyebrow at his partner.
Ponch sighed heavily. "I've got fifty bucks on the Cowboy's game. No way I'm missing that!"
"Since when are you such a football fan?"
"Well, ya see, a couple weeks ago I started dating this cheerleader…."
"Ah," Jon replied as he tossed the remains of his lunch in the trash and headed for his motor.
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Ponch glanced at his watch.
"Ten more minutes and we're home free!" he called to his partner over the hum of their motors.
Jon just smiled and shook his head. Personally, he didn't mind working the holiday. His family lived out-of-state and all he had was a cold, lonely apartment waiting for him after his shift. Such was the case with most of the other officers who had volunteered to work today.
Suddenly, their radios squawked to life for the first time.
All Hollywood Freeway units in the vicinity of Highland Avenue, please respond to multi-car accident. Be advised, fire and paramedic units have been dispatched.
Jon immediately reached for his mic. "Seven Mary Three and Four responding."
"So much for getting home on time," Ponch mumbled as they revved their motors and sped to the scene.
Sergeant Getraer was first to arrive. In all his years on the force, he couldn't recall seeing such a mass of twisted, mangled metal. The smell of burning gas, oil, and human flesh permeated the air. Jon and Ponch arrived seconds before Grossman, Bear, and Bonnie. They gathered in a small circle, awaiting their assignment which was achingly brief.
"Help out the Sheriff's and Fire Departments as best you can, but stay out of their way and be careful," Getraer instructed them, fighting the bile that rose in his throat.
"Looks like not everyone will be going home today," Ponch observed soberly, "If ever."
The CHP officers quickly dispersed to help with various duties. Bonnie and Grossie pulled out notebooks and began taking statements from drivers who were safe and uninjured. Jon, Ponch, Bear, and Getraer assisted various rescue personnel in extracting victims trapped in their vehicles and providing basic first aid when needed.
It wasn't long before the media descended on the scene and yelled questions from beyond the barriers the Sheriff's Deputies had set up. Their inquiries went unanswered and then unheard as medical choppers landed in the middle of the freeway to whisk away the most seriously injured. A parade of ambulances was followed by station wagons and vans from the county coroner's office.
Jon, Ponch, and the others didn't know how long the controlled chaos lasted. All they knew was that it was dark by the time they arrived back at Central. They were tired, dirty, and fighting emotions they couldn't quite name yet. They all slumped around the table in the report room to fill out the requisite forms while the information was still fresh in their heads, and so they wouldn't have to recall the atrocity at a later date. One by one they finished up and headed into the locker rooms to shower and change into the civilian clothes they had worn to work that morning. A lifetime ago. However, before anyone could escape the building, Getraer ordered them all back into the report room.
"Wonder what we did wrong this time," Ponch muttered to Jon as they headed wearily towards the room they had just left, the other officers behind them.
When they entered the room, Getraer was standing at the head of the table. A box loaded with turkey sandwiches and various chips and beverages sat in the center.
"Please, sit down everyone," the sergeant instructed.
Chair legs scraped against the linoleum as the officers settled themselves, exchanging questioning glances with one another. Once everyone was quiet, Getraer began to speak.
"I know it's late and you all want to head home, but I wanted to let you know how proud I am of all of you today. You handled yourselves like true professionals in the face of a catastrophe. In my book, you all went above and beyond out there." Getraer stopped to let his words sink in. "Therefore, I called in a favor from my favorite deli and ordered us all some dinner. It's not your traditional turkey and dressing, but given the circumstances I doubt you'll mind."
At this, someone started to slowly clap their hands and soon the entire room broke into applause, clearly embarrassing their sergeant as he raised his hands to quiet them.
"Way to go, Sarge!" Ponch called.
"Hear, hear!" Jon added as Bear let out a whistle and Bonnie's contagious laughter filled the air.
Grossie had already begun to pass out the food and soon everyone was indulging in a long-overdue meal.
Once everyone had eaten and a lighter atmosphere filled the room, Getraer once again got up to speak. This time his overture was met with good-natured moans at which he laughed.
"Okay people. Normally on this day I would have us go around the table and each state what we are thankful for. Today I think that goes without saying. But I do want to take this opportunity to let each and every one of you know how grateful I am to be your sergeant. A man couldn't ask for a better bunch of officers to lead."
"Awww!" cried Bonnie as she got up and walked around the table to embrace Getraer in a warm hug.
Soon, the other men were shaking hands, slapping backs, and hugging Bonnie as well. Each thankful that their CHP family had once again returned home safe and sound.