9-1-1 In The Middle Of Nowhere

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My idea of the middle of nowhere is typically when my cell phone loses coverage. I use the term for more than one reference. This time is just outside Joshua Tree National Park in a deserted part of the California desert. A patch of Highway 62, approximately half way between Tijuana, Mexico and Las Vegas, Nevada USA:

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I was en route to Laughlin, Nevada USA from Hollywood, California; a five hour drive if you shoot east, straight across Interstate 40. This one and only time, I decided to drive Highway 62, a route I’d never traveled. It’s about an hour out of the way, there isn’t anywhere to stop should you need food or services and there isn’t anything to look at other than dirt. Hence the reason for my first time traveling this route.

I was traveling across the desert, most likely faster than the speed limit since I was the only car in sight. I’m all by myself, both windows are down but the stereo is so loud I can’t hear the wind, I feel it. It’s still early, between 8-10am. I’m surrounded by dirt, an open road, an occasional power pole, more dirt, mountains straight ahead and a really loud stereo. I crested a little hill that veered to the left and to my surprise is a little human walking toward me on the opposite side of the highway. As I passed the person walking in the opposite direction I could see he was a boy. He’s wearing a heavy blue jacket with red stripes down the sleeves which is odd because it was summer time and he’s wearing a bright orange beanie. No streets, a few dirt roads, off-road trails and a lone, two-lane Highway. There’s an occasional makeshift street sign nailed to a power pole but that’s it. No vehicle traffic, nothing. And I just flew passed a little boy.

I eased my foot off the gas pedal a little bit but I was still driving. I’m driving and thinking-driving and thinking, hearing: ‘Man that kid is little! What the heck is he doing out here all by himself?! I couldn’t make it make sense. I probably traveled another mile in the opposite direction of the boy, thinking about him, finally I pulled off of the highway. I stopped next to a power pole with a cardboard sign nailed to it:

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I thought about turning around. ‘I’ve never been here before, is there a house somewhere I didn’t see?’ I didn’t want to scare the kid. I didn’t want to be a car, in the middle of nowhere, sneaking up on a little kid either! I wasn’t sure what to do. I called a friend of mine - I probably should’ve just driven back to the boy instead of calling her but I didn’t. Somehow I allowed her to talk me into believing there’s no reason a little kid would be out there unless it was a trap, a set-up. She elaborated a detailed event: I drive back to the little kid and ask him if he needs help, out of the middle of the dirt somewhere are robbers and thieves, they’ll beat me up, rob me, steal my car and/or worse. She insisted I call 9-1-1. I hung up the phone with her and called them:

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The dispatcher on the other end said “9-1-1, please state your emergency.” I told her “I don’t know if this is an emergency or not” and I went on to tell her about the little boy I just saw a few miles back. She asked me if I had any identifiable landmarks or street signs around me but I didn’t, that I could see. She made me aware of my location via longitude and latitude coordinates that sounded something like “M.14 and N.36” and we were both surprised to learn there was actually a police cruiser headed toward my location and it’s only a few miles away. She asked me to wait on the phone with her while she radio’d to the squad car and guided the officer to my location.

Within minutes a police car exited the highway where I was parked. He got out of his car and asked “is that you on the phone with dispatch?” I answered yes and he motioned for me to hand him my phone. He identified himself to the 9-1-1 dispatcher on the other end of the line, assured her he’ll take over from here, they hung up. That’s when he asked me what happened - “What seems to be the problem?”

I explained to him how it’s been about 10 minutes now since I saw him but I saw a little boy walking all by himself going in ‘that’ direction, pointing towhere I saw the little boy. I told the officer something didn’t seem right to me so I pulled over and called 9-1-1.

The officer told me it isn’t strange to see a little kid walking at this time of day on the highway and there’s “probably a bus stop nearby.” I asked “there’s a school out here?! I haven’t even seen a house or one car. Where’s the school?” He kind of motioned off in the distance but I could tell he wasn’t concerned with my questions:

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He asked me what I was doing out there. I told him I was on my way to Laughlin. “What business do you have in Laughlin?” I told him I have a house there and I’m just on my way to the river. He asked me for my identification: “Got any Identification on you?” I handed him my drivers license and he asked me if I had registration and proof of insurance for my car. “Yes I do,” he said “go get it for me please.” I retrieved the documents from my car and handed them to him. He sat back down in his squad car with all of my information, asked me to “wait right here” and began running my information through his system. Another five minutes elapsed.

What happens next isn’t weird to me anymore. My outward appearance attracts the authoritative type - A little taller than most and tattooed more than most, that’s all it takes. It doesn’t surprise me anymore when all I’m trying to do is help a little boy in the middle of nowhere and instead I’m on trial: “Why do you live in Nevada and carry a California ID?”

“No, I don’t live in Nevada, I have a house there. I live in Hollywood.” I had to then give him some history about myself and answer his questions. He wanted the address to my place in Nevada, the address of my employer, the Hollywood address, he ran all of that information too. Another five minutes elapsed.

“Do you have anything in your pockets I should be aware of?” I told him I didn’t. He asked me to place my hands on the hood of his car and spread my legs. He searched me, emptied my pockets, lifted my pants and checked my socks. He had me remove my belt and he inspected the inner waste-line of my shorts. I was told to remove my shoes and shake them out - I didn’t have anything that he was interested in. This isn’t abnormal behavior to me anymore, in fact, I expect it and comply:

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He finished searching me and I pulled my socks back up, put my things back in my pockets, etc. “Do you have anything in your car that I should be aware of?” I told him there’s nothing in my car and continued “I’m just on my way to the river and I thought it was weird to see a little boy walking on the side of the highway out here.” “Do you have anything inside your vehicle that I should be aware of?”

Alright, you’re probably thinking “say No!!” Right? Don’t let him search my car, right, is that what you’re thinking? I’ve gone that route in the past, BIG mistake! That’s another post for a later date.

“No, officer. There isn’t anything inside the vehicle that isn’t supposed to be there.” He said “then you wouldn’t mind waiting right here while I take a look?” I nodded my head ‘no’ and said “go ahead, the keys are in the ignition. The trunk release is on the driver door.”

He searched my car front to back, top to bottom. He went all through the seats, the doors, headliner, the consoles, under the hood, inside the trunk, around the fender wells, he didn’t miss a section of the car. Another 15 minutes elapsed:

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After realizing there wasn’t anything inside the vehicle that he was interested in, the officer made his way back to me - I’m still leaning against the hood of his car. He handed my drivers license and vehicle documentation back to me and said “now where did you say you saw that kid?” I pointed down the highway and said “well it’s been about 45 minutes now but he was walking ‘that way’ and he’s wearing a blue jacket with red stripes down the sleeves and an orange beanie.” The Officer opened the driver door of his police cruiser, sat down in the seat, said “drive safely,” put his car in drive and took off in the direction I pointed.

I think about that day often. That was the first and last time I traveled down that stretch of Highway - I’m pretty sure that was the first time I ever called 9-1-1, too. I had to open up Maps on my phone to pin-point the exact location of the encounter so I could write this post.

I hope that little boy in the blue jacket/orange beanie is alive and doing well. He’s most likely a teenager today, I hope he’s doing teenager things - Like walking on the side of a deserted highway in the middle of nowhere.

As for 9-1-1. We haven’t spoken since.