You have the right to be annoyed

Now that I've moved back to "the city" I guess I have to deal with attitudes and prejudices held by the public. I'm a firm believer that regardless of what the media says, folks are basically decent. If everyone worked off that assumption I think the world would be a better place. Unfortunately, I found a place in Naperville, IL that doesn't seem to have faith in the common man.

I was going to meet up with a friend of mine to get a free chair. He had a recliner he didn't need, and offered it to me to help furnish my apartment. We agreed on a time, and I headed over to his place on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I called him on my way over, and he was running late, so when I got there, I parked in front of his house, rolled down the window and listened to the radio. A Prairie Home Companion was on NPR so I didn't really mind sitting and waiting.

My friend lives in one of those neighborhoods that is all curvy streets and cul-de-sacs. Very family oriented, with big yards and little traffic. I was facing the entrance to my friend's dead-end when a police car turned down his street. My first thought was that it was nice to know the cops even patrolled little neighborhoods. Then the patrol car accelerated in a manner I can only describe as aggressive, and another patrol car turned into the neighborhood. Somehow I just knew they were there for me.

The faster car pulled around the cul-de-sac and blocked me from behind while the second car parked in the middle of the street blocking me from the front. As I said, I'm not one to think ill of people without cause, but it was clear to me that one of my friend's neighbors had called the cops on me. It was also clear to me why they called the cops. Had I been parked in a shiny BMW or a Hummer they wouldn't have given me a second look. However, I was sitting in my newest pride and joy, a 1994 Nissan Sentra Coupe.

My car is the epitome of Basic Transportation. It is old, has a few rust spots, door dings, and paint chips, and the trunk no longer closes perfectly due to a rear-end collision in the car's recent past. I paid $2,000 cash for this car and was pleased to find that two grand can still buy a decent car that runs well and gets good gas mileage. Just to be clear, this is a nice, older car, not a sh*tbox.

All of this went through my head before the nice officer could approach me. When he did, he asked what I was doing there. I told him I was meeting my friend who was running late, and pointed at his house. He asked for my friend's name and my ID. I provided both, politely. I even offered a copy of my temporary registration for the car, since I had an in-transit tag issued by the state of Montana taped in the window and I could tell the officer was mighty curious about it. He took both and went to the other squad car presumably to find out if I was a dangerous criminal.

While Officer One and Officer Two conferred my friend drove up. He had to negotiate around the cars blocking the road but eventually headed for his driveway. The officers asked him if he knew me and when he confirmed my story, they returned my license and registration, thanked me and departed. As they departed a third squad car pulled into the neighborhood, but after a quick conference with the other officers, Officer Three departed without a glance at me or my friend.

It is moments like these that I'm glad my Momma raised me right. Just as I knew the cops were coming for me, I also knew that whoever called them was peeking through their curtains hoping for a show. I was sorely tempted to shout "are you happy now?!?" or stand in the middle of the cul-de-sac and give a 360 degree one-finger salute. However, due to my good upbringing, I simply went inside with my friend. Besides, good entertainment ain't cheap and I don't work for free.

You may be wondering if I jumped to conclusions, and the truth is we'll never know. However, one point of evidence in my favor was shared with me as my friend and I loaded the recliner into his minivan. Evidently the lady two doors down gives piano lessons and strange cars are often parked on the street with parents waiting to pick of their children. To his knowledge, this is the first time anyone called the cops.