Inundated by an explosion of excitement, I ask “Can you read the tag?”
The pulchritudinous man beside me casually but swiftly maneuvers himself until he gets a decent unblocked-by-botanies view of the license plate, then rattles off four numbers. Fox is so very accommodating. Armed with the digits, I ransack my mind all the way to the recesses to ascertain whether I’ve got photographs of that particular Trooper; at the same time I mentally try to establish where in the automobile my camera is. “I have 5288…” Under my seat? “And 5226…” Glove compartment maybe? “5446 too…” In the back on the floorboard? Upon comprehensive internal numeration I determine I do not, in fact, have any pictures of the Blue and Gray in question.
Fox has been watching me keenly, a flare of amusement mixed with I-don’t-know-what at my behavior. Perhaps he’s experiencing jamais vu -- though it’s not as if he isn’t familiar with my enthusiasms regarding chance encounters with officers. Shoot; on one of our first get-togethers, he had to practically drag me away by my hair to prevent me from examining a police car that, right before our eyes, had been inexplicably left wide open -- completely unsecured, windows down -- by its uniformed operator in an otherwise-empty parking lot! It so happens the reason for the abandonment was a flat tire, but, still, what kind of cop leaves his patrol vehicle wide open like that?!
Reminiscing about onset meetings with him brings to mind I HeArTE JADE activities and before I can stop myself, I blurt out at Fox “Do you think I’m obsessed with Law Enforcement?”
He cerebrates for a moment before giving me a carefully constructed answer, the kind I’d expect from a lawman -- even a scrupulous one: adequately ambiguous, designed to be favorable to any given person’s position. He has never vilipended my Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement habit though, thus I am content to accept his reply. Plus he’s hot, so who really cares what he has to say?
Fox and I carry on with our visit, but I surreptitiously keep tabs on the mystery Trooper. I track him moving to yet another square of pavement, and while I lose sight of him there neither do I observe his departure from the immediate area.
After my delicious VSP-man and I disentangle ourselves from each other and bid farewells, I roll off in the direction of where I suspect the unknown Trooper will be found.
