It was dark, just after sunset on a cool and cloudy winter evening. The squad car's lights were strobing brilliant blue and red and I was half blinded. I waved the knife back and forth, reminiscent of Sulu when he fought captain Kirk (one of my favorite episodes and one that readily comes to mind whenever I find myself in similar circumstances, wildly waving a knife to stave off my opponents in the narrow hallway of a space ship). The drop point blade glowed and glistened as it arched and weaved and cut deft swaths through the still and emergent desert eve. I was completely oblivious as to how this might look to passing cars or... the video camera pointed at us from the patrol car. We had just spent the whole day packing and moving a friend's household. We were bone-tired and more than ready to stop at Nico's Tacos on the way home. Our only goal, as we yawningly planned our future was to pick up a couple of fish burritos and spend the rest of the evening, sans girls, burping and rubbing our bellies and leaving a big ol' mess in the kitchen. My cat-like reflexive maneuver to strap on the seat belt at almost the same instant the siren blared and the flashing lights from the lawman's car on my tail filled the interior of our bedraggled mini van, left Eddie and Eli in awe. I'm sure they were wondering how I could move so fast at my age and after such a long and laborious day. Well, as I've proved more than once, a cop on your tail is a sure-fire remedy for vehicular lethargy. A very nice patrolman with a heavy German accent informed me that the translucent red tape had come off my busted tail light and as I braked I was blinding the drivers behind me; much like his spotlight was blinding me at the moment (he really said that) So, as he checked my criminal history I dutifully pulled the red tape out of the glove box (can you tell I've been through this before?) and proceeded to the rear of my car, knife in hand (ostensibly to cut the tape). I was half-way through the job when the officer returned to chat with me. Lucky for me he hadn't checked my background in Mexico and Central America. Anyway, as affable as he was ( and I, of course) my friendly gesticulating left him a bit uncomfortable. He asked if I wouldn't mind putting the knife down on the bumper as we finished our conversation. I was just getting ready to broach another subject (the weather) when I realised my faux pas. I apologized, set the knife down, instinctively stepped away from the vehicle (yes, I've seen COPS) and sprawled, spread-eagle on the pavement. Hey, don't blame me if I'm an animated conversationalist. Plus, it's not every day a cop that sounds like "Arnold" pulls you over in Tucson, Arizona.
