Summary: Don’t usually talk much about the day job. But two weeks ago, I walked to a meeting in the South of Market neighborhood, in uniform, and therefore recognizable as a peace officer. 12:06: As I crossed a street, a man waved at me. I saw a silver sedan with a crater for a window. Far to my left lay a crumpled bicycle. Directly in front were two men kneeling over a man in shorts. The good thing about first responder training is my mind discards the macabre and focuses on what needs to be done.
