I spent the day in NYC with my life partner in the sarcastic arts and mutual aficionado of all things British, Dispatcher Snarky Pants. We found an authentic chip shop full of cute ex-pat Brits, took in an August Wilson revival, and pretty much snarked at the throbbing mass of humanity that is NYC on a Friday night. Hey guy in Times Square - free hugs? Really?

Cut to 0300, we're on the interstate headed back home - and stuck behind a very drunk driver for a very long time. We are, of course, not calling this in because we're not in home territory. Yet. We figured, had there been a wreck Snarky Pants is an EMT; and I'm certified in phone dialing and giving CPR to Resusci Anne. I could've dialed 911 like a mofo while Snarky Pants dealt with the gore.

As we approach the exit for Boringtown, Snarky Pants pulls out her cellphone. I shoot a look that says you are not about to become an erratic driver caller, are you really? She intently pre-dials her phone: we are getting this asshole pulled over if he gets off at our exit. Sure enough, the drunk man exits for Boringtown. Snarky Pants dials. We give chase. Or whatever semblance of chase a 4 cylinder Dodge can give.

Sassy Pants: He's speeding up!

Snarky Pants: Of course he is-- he can tell you're following him now!

Sassy Pants: Well I'm sorry! I think I missed the day in dispatcher spy school that covered how to tail a suspect!

Snarky Pants: MI:5 - season 4.

Sassy Pants: Touche.

In the end, drunk man pulled into a development before an officer could get to us. We found this rather unsporting of him since we had been stuck behind him on the interstate afraid to pass for fear of an MVA for the better part of 25 miles.

I spoke to the responding officer my next shift in, making sure to begin the conversation by apologizing profusely. He assured me that they had prior contact with the subject and was very likely "drunk off his ass". And then he gave me shit for the rest of the shift for being "that caller".