Don’t you think it’s a little bit late?
About a half an hour ago, Diego started barking uncontrollably. Christy and I tried to get him to settle down. He’s had fits where he’d start barking wildly at nothing for no good reason. I walked towards the door, turned on the porch light, and said, “Look, there’s no one outside, dog!”
Of course, there was someone outside.
Scared me to death.
Two girls asked if they could use my phone. Since we live out in the middle of nowhere and it’s really not a good place for two girls to get lost, I reluctantly gave them my phone. They talked to a guy for a while, trying to find out where he lived. Then they hung up the phone, gave it to me, and walked away.
Strange.
The even stranger thing is I had been contemplating making a quick run up to the big box store that’s not too far from here to pick up some things I know I need for tomorrow – since I was already awake. I would have been gone when they walked up to our porch. I’m sure Christy would have been oh-so-pleased with that situation (since I would have left while she was asleep on the couch).
It seems I’ve had impeccable timing over the past few weeks. And all of them have involved the police in some way. A few Sundays ago, I went up to the big box store that shall remained nameless (for now). As I was walking into the entrance, I heard another customer talking to one of the employees who had just run out said entrance. Then I heard the employee say, “Oh, I’m just waiting for the police to get here.”
What?
The police?
So I cautiously walked in to see if I could figure out what was going on and if I should be concerned. There at the checkout closest to the entrance was a huge circle of people. The commotion was in the center of the circle, with lots of yelling going on.
“I’ve seen this before,” I thought to myself. I saw my share of fights in high school and this had a similar feel to it. Part of me wanted to get closer to see what all the commotion was about, but then I wondered if anyone involved had a gun. Last thing I wanted to be was a headline on the next day’s newspaper because I was hit by a stray bullet.
So I turned around and walked to the entrance on the opposite end of the store. By the time I got inside, the yelling had stopped and the crowd was beginning to disperse. I asked one of the ladies what had happened and she told me that there was a kid who was accused of stealing something. He tried to prove he was innocent and began arguing with the employees. He even stripped down to his underwear in front of everyone, showing that he wasn’t hiding what he was accused of hiding. Apparently, as soon as I began walking towards the other entrance, the guy and his friends took off out the door I had just left.
“You know,” the lady said to me, “this wouldn’t have happened if he weren’t black.” She clearly thought he was being targeted because of his race. And maybe so. I had delayed writing about this because I wanted to hear more. I haven’t heard any other news stories about it, though. But if I were this guy and had been the victim of racial profiling, I think said big box store would be hearing from my lawyer. Especially with all of those witnesses.
And then about a week ago I was driving along when this person in front of me suddenly veered off to the left, running off the road. I thought she (yes, I saw that it was a person of the female persuasion…no – I’m not trying to make a statement about female drivers, thank you very much!) was trying to turn into a driveway on the left side of the road.
She’s gonna miss the driveway! I said to myself.
Not only did she miss the driveway, but slammed head-on into a mailbox. It was like she was aiming for the box. Then she got back in the right lane and took off.
I followed her for a while, trying to get her license plate number. I couldn’t read it, write it down, and drive at the same time. I followed her into a gas station parking lot. Again, I was concerned about the driver carrying a gun, so I didn’t want to just drive up behind the car and write down the plate number. I went inside, bought a drink, and then left.
Apparently, the driver was watching for me and waited for me to leave. She pulled out after me and drove the opposite direction. She was stuck at a stop sign and I don’t think she thought I’d turn back around.
I did.
I pulled in a nearby driveway and turned around as quickly as I could. Fortunately, her line of sight was blocked by some trees. I pulled up behind her, wrote down the plate number, and then turned right and drove away (she was still stuck at the stop sign because she was trying to go straight across a busy intersection).
I saw the mailbox’s owner in front of his house, trying to salvage what was left of his mailbox. I gave him the details about the car – including the plate number. He went right inside and called the cops.
I think I’ve had enough near misses and impeccable timings for a while. Why can’t things just be ‘normal’?
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When you come to Tennessee and we get together, please remind me to tell you a local coliqiualism (sp?) I’ve figured out. I now know the difference between the police, the po-lease and the law. I will update you.
I forgot to ask you when I saw you…which one did I call when the girls showed up at my door? Was it the Law?
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