IF You Thought Condoms Were Uncomfortable...

As a matter of principle, I believe a person should be permitted to be as reckless as one wishes with his personal protection. After all, whose life is it anyway? I not only believe, but ardently support one’s right to be personally injurious. It builds character. I’m no fan of all sorts of things that would benefit me greatly. While I recognize the utility of such, I do not endorse seatbelts, sunscreen, vitamins, motorcycle helmets, condoms, faith healing, or, hard to believe, bulletproof vests- and probably scores of other items I haven’t thunked about either. ‘My body, my choice,’ as the saying goes. I am guilty of relying on protection on many occasions. I am also not happy with burning urination either, so a balance may be in order… BUT IT IS STILL MY CHOICE!

My employer thinks differently. Supervisors go through great lengths to inspect our front line defenders to ensure we are properly uniformed. A noble undertaking I must declare, but how responsive is the job at supporting this endeavor? Allow me to explain…

For starters let me state that Police Officers are responsible for maintaining a clean and serviceable uniform, including one’s firearm, holster, and *bullet-resistant vest. Notice in police parlance “bullet proof” is not used. No vest utilized in a routine patrol function can halt every projectile. That makes sense. But did you know that Kevlar, while exceptional at stopping most pistol firepower is Largely unsuccessful against edged weapons? Moreover, most vests are only tested and warranteed for five years.  The only way to test the efficacy of a vest is to shoot it, but once experimented, the penetrated vest is useless. The resulting pathology, and logical conclusion is that a very, very large number of police officers on patrol may be utilizing life saving gear that is ineffective. How’s that for adding mental anguish to an already tense work environment.

Thanks to many charities, including the Police Foundation, our job coordinates to outfit officers with replacement vests semi-regularly. Not every five years regularly, but somewhere around twice a career, which is noble. Unfortunately, like many other patrol appendages, by the time the upgraded technology has been pillaged by inessential non-patrol personnel, the benefit to patrol is severely diminished (for example; new automobiles, on-board computers, equipment upgrades, training material, visual aides, replacement pepper spray, er… digital clocks, desk phones with caller ID, DVD players [Yes, we still have VHS tapes for training], oscillating fans, bathroom mirrors, and occasionally paper hand towels.)

When I was in the academy I was briskly swept through a vest fitting process which felt like a class trip from grammar school. We were marched using the buddy system through a conveyor belt of company reps and fitted and sized accordingly.

“IS it comfortable?” I was asked.

“No. It feels like I’m taking X-rays at the dentist.” (As if wearing armor ever feels comfortable.)

“OK it fits…NEXT IN LINE PLEASE!”

Specific measurements were taken and off I went. When the vest arrived it felt like a form fitted trip to the dentist with a synthetic cover. When seated, the vest rides up around your chin like a turtle. In summer, the sweat beads down your chest and dampens the waist. Over the course of time the vest miraculously shrinks over the blossoming male figure and becomes the well known “lobster bib.”

Fast forward a dozen years and I’m called for another fitting at the NYPD’s vest unit at the police academy. The unit was out to lunch when I arrived, literally, so I waited. Upon returning I was greeted by a Police Officer with a uniform jacket and hat on, compared to my short sleeved shirt on a hot day.

Once again, I suffered a battery of measurements and samples to try on. I insisted on sitting down with every size variation within reason. I wasn’t going to go the rest of my career like a turtle, so I demanded to slow down and do it right.

“That cannot fit right. It can’t be comfortable for you” insisted the vest unit.

“It is,” I declared after many wardrobe changes. “Who’s wearing this anyway? Besides why should I take apparel advice from a cop wearing his jacket and hat indoors?”

Indeed he was a unit and off I went, hoping my replacement vest does not shrink also J.