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one-six-one, meet the fire department at 943A Beech Street for standby assistance on a call for intoxication. Complainant is the wife, who says her husband has been drinking for the better part of twenty-four hours and is acting erratically. Fire requested the standby.”

    “Castro one-six-one, ten-four. En route.” Most drunks are erratic!

    Frank looked at his watch and saw that it was just after ten o’clock in the morning, and outside of Halloween and New Year’s Eve, it was strange to get a drunk call this early. As he pulled up to the address, an ambulance was already there with the back door open and a crew marching up the steps to the house. Frank notified radio dispatch that he was on the scene and then hurried to catch up to the paramedics.

    He reached them as they rang the doorbell.

    “Morning, guys. Nice way to start the day, eh?” Frank asked without really looking at the medics.

    “I just hope this isn’t the way the rest of the day is going to go,” one of the EMTs responded.

    Frank and the medics heard a male and a female shouting, the female voice growing closer and louder. The front door opened, and a woman opened the screen door looking completely stressed out.

    “Come in, please, it’s my husband. He’s drank so much I’m afraid he may be in serious medical danger.”

    “Where is he, ma’am?”

    “In the kitchen on the floor where he lay down about ten minutes ago. He’s demanding that I scramble eggs with creamed corn and waffles.”

    As they entered the kitchen, they found, as described, an adult male about sixty years of age lying on the floor and clad only in his underwear. From the empties scattered around him, they could see that he had been drinking both beer and whiskey.

    “He’s been downing boilermakers like there’s gonna be a shortage of beer and whiskey,” she said.

    As the medics bent down to take vital signs, Frank got the husband’s name and other information from the wife. While they were trying to take his blood pressure, he began to fight them, and Frank got down to assist. As he held the man’s arms down, he finally looked up and into the eyes of one of the paramedics. His heart skipped a beat.

    “That’s good, Officer, just like that,” the beauty said to Frank.

    Frank looked at the nametag on the medic’s uniform. Sanders . Sanders was about thirty years old, well built, with black hair, blue eyes, and a five o’clock shadow even though it was only a little after ten in the morning. As Frank glanced down, he saw a broad chest and a waist he estimated at about thirty-two inches.

    Frank tried to snap out of the spell of Sanders’s charms and pay attention to the problem at hand. The EMTs called the vitals in to the local ER, and they were directed to transport the patient for probable alcohol poisoning.

    “Okay, Tony, we gotta take you to the hospital to get you back on your feet, okay?” Paramedic Sanders asked.

    When the drunk man heard that, he passed out and began to snore.

    “Well, that makes things a lot easier,” Sanders said.

    Sanders’s partner brought in the gurney, and the three of them lifted Tony up, placed him on the gurney, and strapped him in. While Tony’s wife got her pocketbook and insurance information, they took Tony down the steps and put him in the ambulance.

    “Thanks for the help, Officer,” Sanders said as his eyes pierced Frank’s soul.

    Stumbling over words, Frank finally managed to get out, “Anytime. What’s your first name, Sanders?”

    “Scott. And you?”

    “Ah, I’m Frank Jenkins. How long you been with the fire department?”

    “I’ve only been at this one for a couple of months. I transferred down from the fire department in Portland, Oregon.”

    “Oh, then that’s why I haven’t seen you before. I thought I knew all the boys at the fire stations. I’m sure I would have remembered having met you,” Frank said with a smile.

    “That’s kind of you to say, Officer.”

    “Frank,” the policeman replied.

    “Okay, Frank. Wanna get coffee sometime?”

    “Yeah, that would be great. When are you available?”

    “Well, I’m working day shift right now, so I’m free nights and on my two days off, which rotate.”

    “When are you off next?”

    “Lemme think… this Thursday and Friday I’m off, and then I go in on second shift on Saturday.”

    “Perfect. Why don’t we make it dinner instead of coffee, say… Friday night?”

    “Yeah, that sounds great.