Beware the Uniform

I once held a summer job at a wildlife park, and we wore these awful two-toned brown polyester uniforms. They were mostly tan, but had dark brown pocket flaps and these folded back and buttoned flaps on the shoulders. There was a patch on the sleeve decorated with the park insignia.

One evening, I was driving home from work along a two-lane mountain road when a old beater pickup roared up behind me. In a no-passing zone, the truck whipped around and momentarily hung by my side. The three occupants, two men and a young woman looked over at me, laughing at their brazen act. I glanced back, slightly annoyed that they would risk all of our lives just to show off.

The laughter died on their faces and as a single unit, they swung their heads forward. The truck pulled in front of me and promptly slowed down to 50 mph. I had to hit my own brakes to match their pace. For a moment, I was puzzled by their behavior. Why did their bravado disappear so rapidly?

It finally dawned on me that they had seen my shirt. I hadn’t realized until that moment how much it resembled the Washington State Patrol uniforms.

They drove slowly and evenly in front of me for the next 20 miles. I had fun following close behind and imagining their conversation. Eventually they found a place to turn around and we were free of each other. I had way too much fun imagining their discomfort and laughing about it.

Only a few years later, it was my turn. I was the one driving way too fast down a mountain highway when a patrol car pulled out behind me with full lights and siren. My heart dropped down into my stomach. I was SO busted. There was no excuse for my speed. It was reckless and I knew it. I was going to pay the price. I had never been stopped before, but I guessed it was my turn. I slowed down and pulled to the side of the road, trying to calm my frazzled nerves.

Imagine my surprise when the cruiser sped past me and disappeared in the distance. My hands were shaking as I began to laugh. He wasn’t even after me! I was completely guilty, but he must have had some bigger fish to fry.

Maybe he just wanted to “imagine my discomfort” and laugh about it later.

I certainly deserved it.