i want to (in a last-minute and unapproved decision) go undercover as a wealthy upper eastside woman and follow a lead into a bodega in spanish harlem where i have to dodge empty cardboard boxes thrown at me and finally tackle a kid on the run and read him his rights en espanol.
i want to sit in the interrogation room with a sexist perp and my partner who feigns misogyny to coax out a confession, and just to make it really realistic he yells at me, 'i bet you're on the rag you man-hating b@*!h!' (it's all an act because my partner and i are so in sync.)
and then, because i'm tough, the captain threatens to take my badge - i'm way too passionate and cross the line too often (and kind of break the law on a regular basis), but then he says he'd do the same thing if he were in my shoes.
and then when i finally get a chance to go home, after what seems like seven sleepless nights, i grab my jacket from my locker and exchange borderline witticisms with my colleagues just as a nameless cop runs in to tell us that an escaped junkie shot someone in the lobby. - and it starts all over again.
that's the life.
and, i think, a lofty aspiration.
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