Finding Jesus on the Police Scanner

I came into the office tonight to tone some photos. The casual chatter here and there on the police scanner was drowned out my lack of attention for it. The normal "flipping the bird," tone counts and other nonsense that usually comes across has worn down my ears. But this once, something caught my ear. A bunch of kids were reported carrying around a couch by the Tridge and were just up to mischief. I immediately perked up, ran out of the office, grabbed my camera and ran to the Tridge. Kids carrying around a couch? This was my kind of crowd. I got to the Tridge and there was no couch in sight. There was only a couple on their first year anniversary date, some boys fishing, and a reflection of the moon in the leafy rivers. I started walking back to the office, when the cop cars showed up. The two cars pulled up next to the teens smoking cigarettes and parked around the Farmer's Market. Still, no couch in sight.
Almost back to the office I hear the laughter of girls. I look up to find the outline of a white dress accompanied by an outline of a hot pink wig, running down McDonald Street. I take a few frames as the girls cross the street. They were followed by a group of about eight more people, I ask them what the occasion was. They replied it was the Bride of Frankenstein's 20th birthday. I told them they were a crowd I needed to join. They smiled and agreed. I followed the pink wig, the Bride of Frankenstein, the Native American, the Tourist, the Renaissance maiden and others back onto the Tridge. They were pointing out the imaginary face reflection left by the moon and clouds.
That is when I heard it. The laughter. The rhythmic thudding of feet running on wood planks. I look up. And there it is, a blue couch coming right for me, accompanied by a herd of laughing teens. The teens all wearing a strip of purple fabric, either around their heads, their hands, their calves or wherever they could creatively find a spot. I run towards the couch... the couch isn't stopping... I start running back, firing my camera along the way.
Running, talking, running, talking, the flash of someone else's camera. Laughing, running, talking. I had stumbled on the third annual Couch Wars! Two teams (purple and orange) had a list of locations they had to shoot a group photo with their couch. I had found the purple team's last place before they returned to church to regroup and discuss who won. I jumped in my car and followed them there. The purple team had only missed one location and had 22 guests in their total photos. The orange team missed two locations and only had 13 guests. But as the rules were stated, if you were late you automatically lost. The cops had directed the kids at the Farmer's Market to stop the mischievous couch carriers, should they show up again. A line of 15 or so boys blocked the road. The purple team was forced to drive through the grass. They were late, and therefore the losers of this years Couch Wars.
Music, pizza, laughs, stories and fellowship followed. It has been probably ten years since I have been in a youth group. I forgot great times such as "What does the cow say to the farmer?," Beatty's terrible taste in music, hackey sacks, "I know everyone here buuuuuuttttt, you!," Centrifuge, the Louisville mission trip, the list goes on and on. It was the funnest night I have had in a long time. You just never know what kind of oddities you will find comeing across the police scanners at night.