But God help me, I loves me a good high-speed chase.
I take it from there. I immediately leap into action. By action, I mean drop everything I'm doing, grab the remote, switch to the station(s) covering the chase, plant my ever expanding derriere on the couch then sit back, settle in and watch the chase until it reaches it's inevitable conclusion no matter how long it takes. And know this: the really good ones can go on for hours, especially if it's an SUV with a spare gas tank.
Now you might say to yourself, "How sad he has to watch his high speed chases all alone." First, thank you for your concern. But you'll be happy to hear I don't.
The other person in my house, the only other person who appreciates the extremely high entertainment value of them as much as I do is my 12-year old daughter. The apple doesn't fall far from the police helicopter.
As we switch back and forth between channels covering the chase, looking to see which news chopper has the best overhead shot, we always ask the same question: how does the guy driving think this is going to end? Does he think the police chasing him will:
A) Run out of gas
B) Get tired and go home
C) Get lost and have to pull over for directions
D) Not drive nearly as well as he can when he's that high
And by the way, what exactly does he think that bright white light shining down on him from overhead no matter which neighborhood, on-ramp or back alley he turns on to is. The sun? The angel on his shoulder?
Not so much.
The police helicopter pilots are the unsung heroes of the high speed chase. Oh sure, we all love seeing the perp narrowly avoid crashing into pedestrians, trash cans, trees and other vehicles. And what viewer doesn't get tingly at the prospect of seeing one of the several police cars in pursuit deciding to do the PIT maneuver.
By the way, only hardcore chase fans know that PIT stands for Pursuit Intervention Technique. Go ahead, impress your friends. Win bar bets. You're welcome.
Earlier I mentioned the inevitable conclusion: here's what it is, although you've probably guessed by now. After the suspect runs out of gas, crashes the car, turns on to a dead end street, drives the tires that have been flattened by a spike strip down to the wheels - which now look like sparklers riding on the cement, loses his buzz or jumps out of the car and makes a run for it, the chopper pilot just shines the light on him as a guiding beacon for the police to come and get their man (or woman - seen a few of those too).
Occasionally they won't come out of the car when asked, and that's when it gets tense. The police surround the car, guns drawn and make it very clear what they want him to do. It gets really good sometimes when the police are distracting him on one side of the car, and then more police open the door on the other side and drag him out (sometimes they just pull him through the window if he's pissed them off enough).
I've never seen a suspect get shot, which is a good thing since my daughter is almost always next to me watching. I suppose there's always the chance that could happen, and if it does I'll try to use it as a teaching moment. You want to play, you have to pay.
When it's all over, the feeling is exactly like coming home from Vegas. Everything seems a lot slower and a little duller.
The good thing is that this is Los Angeles, so high speed chases are like buses - miss one, there'll be another along any minute.
Many people think the saddest words are "what might've been."
For me, they're "we now return you to our regular programming."
