Sometimes at 911, life-and-death meets levity

Emergency calls get 911 dispatchers' adrenaline flowing as they direct police, firefighters and paramedics from one trouble spot to another. Dispatchers also endure boring stretches when nothing happens.

By Jim Adams, Star Tribune

Last update: September 9, 2007 - 7:42 PM

But every so often, a call comes that cuts through tragedy and puts a smile on their faces. Here are some favorites of Twin Cities dispatchers:

Wayward wildlife

An Oakdale man called Washington County 911 early one morning to complain about a deer in his front yard.

Dispatcher Christopher O'Brien tried to clarify:

"Is it injured?"No."Is it dead?"No."What's it doing?"It is sleeping. It needs to leave," the man replied.

"Well, did you open your door and try shooing it away?"No," the impatient caller said. "You need to do that."

Poultry possessed

Smaller critters also have prompted calls, including one from a rural Woodbury man who wanted police to check on a chicken.

What was the problem? "It was crossing back and forth over the road," O'Brien recalled. "He said it was acting like it was possessed."

Wright County dispatchers in Buffalo fielded repeated calls about a fugitive iguana a few years ago.

"It was 2 feet long, and the neighbors called [when it escaped] every few years. They were really excited," dispatcher Pam Seaman said. Officers herded the hefty reptile back home. Seaman said that at least one resident was miffed, asking, "Can you have those in Buffalo?"

Tin-can proof of a UFO

A woman from Otsego made a request that Seaman could barely stop laughing about as she dispatched a deputy, who also cracked up. The elderly woman was sure a UFO had landed and departed her back yard. Seaman asked her how she knew. "She said there were four indentations the size of a tin can that were proof it had set down. She wanted a deputy to look at it with her."

The skeptical deputy arrived, and the woman pointed out the dents in her yard. He saw nothing, Seaman said.

Stuck in the hot seat

A bizarre emergency paid dividends for Brooklyn Park police. They called Hennepin County dispatcher Aaron Coates for an ambulance one cold January night more than a decade ago. The officers had responded to a reported car theft in a parking lot near 73rd Street and Brooklyn Boulevard. The fleeing suspect slipped on ice and slid on his stomach under a police car. His escape ended with his backside wedged under the car's red-hot catalytic converter.

"His buttocks caught fire," Coates said.

The police also needed a tow truck to winch the car off the guy, recalled Greg Roehl, whose squad car snared the singed thief. Roehl, now acting police chief, said the payoff came when the man was later suspected in a rape: The victim identified her attacker as a guy with burned buns.

A full moon, did you say?

Some dispatchers contend that they handle more odd calls when there's a full moon, or even a blue moon. The most recent blue moon was in May, and that is when an agitated woman in Prior Lake called Scott County dispatcher Kelly Callahan. The lady wanted a deputy to stop a speeder on her street, which went for miles. Trying to pin down a location, Callahan asked:

"What is your cross street?"None of your business."

Jim Adams • 612-673-7658

Jim Adams • jadams@startribune.com

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