Guest Post: Ally K. Adams

Hello all!  I have a guest post by Ally K. Adams up!  (Yes, I know it’s been awhile, I had a keyboard issue and I had to special order a keyboard for my laptop!)  She lives in the nice state I live in where we have more cows than people!  And onto her lovely post about an experience she had being a real live hero!  (Of course, this one is a tad different!)

Ally K. Adams:

What part of Montana do you live in? Are you a transplant or were you born & raised here? I’m a transplant from Seattle (as you read in my bio).

So I’m going to share my experience with you in a story cuz, well, that’s what I do. 🙂

I’m sitting at home on a Friday night debating what to do. Being the party animal I am, I don’t know of any fun hangouts and all my friends have FTFs (Friends That Fu… um… Fraternize), leaving me all by myself. Before I break into a Celine Dion song, my phone rings. I jump at it, excited that one of my friends is choosing me instead of a little action. Before I even answer, I’m already mentally throwing clothes out of my closet to find the perfect club outfit.

“We have a callout. How soon can you be at the Mt. Molly Campground?”

Every cell in my body comes to a screeching halt as I jump off the couch. Gone is my excitement that I won’t be drinking alone on a Friday night. I already know the outfit I’ll be wearing tonight and rush into my SAR uniform, strap on my duty belt, and race out the door. The adrenaline you feel on a callout is hard to describe. A mix of thrill, anticipation, excitement, and even fear battles for dominance. Thrill wins out and I step on the gas, pushing the speed limit. I have no idea what I’m going to face when I pull into the campground, so when I see several other reserve deputies already on scene, I’m disappointed I didn’t arrive sooner. They probably already handed out assignments and I’m going to be stuck on some sh*t job no one else wanted. I hurry out of my rig and over to the briefing, hoping I’m not too late to get a good assignment, when the sound of chuckling slows me down. No, not just chuckling. Snorts! Snickers! Out-and-out belly laughter. What the hell?

I round the corner of the communications van we use as our incident command center and skid to a stop. I’m the only female on the scene. The instant I’m spotted, the laughter stops. Heat burns my cheeks as I meet every last set of eyes on me. I no longer feel anything but embarrassment as it suffocates me. “What?” I ask.

Ed, one of the commanders, pulls me aside and explains the situation and the more detail he gives me, the more I understand why they are laughing so hard. It seems our subject was at a party and had to pee, so he steps away from the fire, whips it out, and proceeds to do his business. Someone shouts, “It’s the cops!” and everyone scatters, leaving our poor subject alone, his unit exposed, and now freaking out since he’s a minor. In a panic, he zips fast. He then screams as he literally zipped off one of his testicles. The details are a bit hazy on this part, but from what I remember, one of his boys popped out of the wound and went exploring on his own. And that, my friend, is what we are here to search for.

Luckily, we have dog units and by daybreak, we have subject’s missing testi in custody. I will say that, despite the circumstances of the loss, when you call us in, we do take it seriously. Did I giggle most of the night? Absolutely. Up until tonight I had no idea what a testi looked like outside of its little home. Now I do. And I can’t unsee that.

Once we debrief, I drag my butt home and fall on my bed, still in uniform. I can’t believe I just spent all night searching for a testicle. This puts a whole new spin on letting the boys out to breathe. I stare at the ceiling as exhaustion takes over. Slowly I slide my lids closed and dream about–what else–testicles.

There’s my story on one of the funniest searches I’ve ever been on. I don’t think adrenaline gives you that rush that makes you want to run out and bang everything. I’d think it’s more like near-death experiences that do that. But that’s a story for another blog. 🙂


And I’m still laughing my ass off while trying to post this!  Thanks, Ally!  That’s a great (abet horrible) story!  Poor guy.  Still hilarious though!

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