Open Carry Might Not Be Safe

I edge my vehicle to one side of a street near the JADE office, shift to park, and shut the thing down. If the info I got that the Drug Enforcement men are going to be making a bust is correct -- and based on the presence of the multiple police cars I’m seeing at the Ix property, it is -- then I’ve about fifteen to twenty minutes before the Task Force comes out to perform their duties.

Checking oil and transmission fluid seems a practical way to waste the right amount of time so I tilt forward and pull a black lever next to my left knee. I’m rewarded with a plunking sound of the front cover letting loose.

As I reach for the handle to get out, the car’s sunshield above my brow vibrates. I wiggle my cell phone out of the container clipped to the visor. Uckf! I don’t want to talk to him right now. I shove the stirring object back in its holder, swipe the case down and secure it to a ribbon on my skirt. I swing open the door and step outside into the fair weather. Hey, is that…? Two people have exited together from the workplace in front of me.

I don’t know who the one male is but the dude he’s with is a Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement detective. I duck the top half of me inside the car to snatch a camera off the arm rest. The gadget powers on quickly. I plant it on the roof for steadiness and push the shutter once. Twice. A few more. The twosome, discernibly in no hurry, disappear from view. I could get some way better pictures of them if I move closer. The ideal place to relocate flashes to mind and, camera clasped in hand, I dash my way to it. Once there I speed-click about ten more photographs. They’re amazing oblivious.

Sudden motion draws my attention to the glass double-doors of the Ix building. Sinewy officers are spilling down the steps and fanning out towards their respective vehicles. I recognize some of them; some I do not. Some of their cars are marked; some not. I capture as many on camera as I can -- the men, their rides. I’m tempted to further prolong the picture-taking but it’s not a smart thing to do if I plan on successfully following them.

Dang, man! They’re loadin’ up fast. I’m racing for my wheels. At like ten feet away from my car my cell phone buzzes. Keys! Who is calling me at this very wrongest time? Door. Look back! Which direction are they going? Throw the camera in the console. I start the motor right as the last pair of policemen sweep out of sight.

Find me sixteen seconds later tagging ‘long at their rear. We navigate the local streets at a fairish rate, then hit 64. I’ve been making good use of my camera throughout but merging on the Interstate and brisk acceleration prompts me to put it away. I get comfy, prepare to give my undivided attention to the LEOs ahead. Now that I’m barreling down the road, I...

OH.

My Dear.

Lord. In Heaven.

The hood! I forgot to shut MY HOOD!

It’s noticeably quaking. Of all the stupid…

Officers Him and Him, now in the left lane, are picking up the pace. I curve my steering wheel to join them there, tip down the gas pedal as I assess the situation with my auto. Can I make it? But how far? Ehhh, I can make it. At this high-velocity the covering finally stops its agitated jerking up and down. Because the wind has taken complete control of it, straining the shield full-force. Agh! Should I keep going? What. Should I. Do? Visions of the giant metal sheet ripping off, flying into or over my car, and murdering most of the people behind me, win out. I activate my hazards, slow down and pull over with no deaths.

I check the time. Leap from the car to smash down the lid. It closes. Whew! Then springs immediately back open. Huh? I try again. It rebounds again. No! No. No. No. Noooooooo. I decide unlatching it, opening it all the way then dropping it, will do the trick. My fingers aren’t finding the hasp. Any other moment this would not be a problem. Eventually, with a reverberant bang, I get the hood closed.

Reseated inside, I look at the clock again. The number actually hasn’t changed. But, still. Those guys have made it to the ocean by now. I mindfully file this adventure under “learning experience” and move on.