I am so embarrassed! My sweetie and I just got busted for parking.
Yeah, that’s right, nearly 50 and graying, lit up by a deputy’s spotlight on the prowl for overly enthusiastic teenagers.
That was the exciting part.
What shamed us was what he caught us doing — absolutely nothing!
No clothing was out of place. I was in my seat; she was in hers. We weren’t even holding hands.
I was never so mortified at being caught doing nothing in my life.
Sheesh! How boring can you get?
But hey, the fact remains, we’re 48 and still got told to “take it somewhere else.”
That’s gotta count for something.
The almost-adventure started after my niece’s graduation when family members were bunched around several restaurant tables. The sun had set and we were just off the shores of Lake Erie. One of us so-called adults mentioned that in the old days, it would have been a good night to take in a few submarine races.
“Submarine races?” a nephew asked. “But it’s dark. How can you see them at night? And don’t they run under water? Why would two of you park at the dock in the dark to watch races you can’t see…”
He stopped. His eyes bugged, then clenched shut.
“Ack! You’re talking in adult code! Stop talking in code! I don’t want to think about that!”
Mom slid over toward Dad, gazed up at him and said, “It’s been a long time since we’ve gone to see the submarine races.”
“Ack!!! Grandma!! Stop talking in code!”
Dad shook her off and said, “And we’re not going to, either. We have a house, you know.”
I’m not positive, but I think Dad slept on the couch that night.
After we left the restaurant and I was driving my fiancee to her house, I mused, “I wonder if any subs are racing tonight.”
She looked doubtful but thought maybe there would be a chance.
So there we were, down at the public docks in the dark, gazing at water we couldn’t see and talking about this and that when the sheriff’s cruiser swooped down upon us, headlights and spotlight a-blazin’.
When the deputy marched up to the car and got a load of two people old enough to be his parents in the beam of his flashlight, he seemed confused. Perhaps a little frightened.
He never did ask what we were doing. Probably he knew I’d say, “We’re here to enjoy the submarine races,” and he’d have to say, “Ack!!! Old people!! Stop talking in code!”
The deputy asked both of us for IDs, noted my license plate number, and slid back to his cruiser to punch all the suspicious information into his mobile data terminal.
“Have you ever been busted before?” my sweetie asked.
We high-fived each other.
The deputy and his flashlight returned. He handed us our IDs and announced, “The park’s closed. Take it somewhere else.”
No ticket. No citation. No proof that in our declining years we still are young enough to be busted for parking.
So we left.
If only he’d showed up five minutes earlier …